The Small Joys of Life

The word “Monsoon” derives itself from the Arabic word “Mausim” or “Mausam” which translates to “weather” sometimes used informally for “season” as well. Before I cut short the geography lesson, monsoon is also used for the winds that gush up the Indian subcontinent, advancing in a south west direction from the oceans surrounding our peninsula. Southern states like Kerala are the first ones to receive and rejoice in it, while we North Indian inhabitants beg for it to reach us and cool the maddening heat.

It’s no wonder that, most of our ancient rituals and summer traditions are set around into this particular wait for the monsoons. Like the Earth remains parched, to savour the first rain, our hearts wait to be quenched by the cool waters of the monsoon. A long list of food items can be enjoyed before the monsoon arrives, and then a silent ban envelops food groups from being consumed in the next four months. Fruits, that ripened in the summer heat will soon be replaced by their astringent brothers. One such fruit is the humble Jamun. The Indian blackberry or Java Plum, it will stain your nails and fingers in a deep purple, the soft lilac flesh will coat your tongue with a taste you’ll either hate or love. I’ve observed, it’s a fruit that is categorically revered or despised, it cannot be a favourite.It’s known to be a natural, hypoglycaemic, lowers your blood sugar and creates black tongues!!

We’re blessed to live in a home with a large Jamun tree. The madness that ensues is, the loud screeching of children climbing the majestic tree to pluck Jamuns. Poor things tried to whack down a cluster using a slipper, the slipper now remains entangled in one of the high branches. A total of five more slippers were flung to the tree, in hopes of rescuing that first one! Oh! The cacophony of it all!! There are glorious black Koels (Asian Cuckoo) in the tree chirping away, ignoring the chappal attack. Everything seems to be going fine. This is what we wanted, right? Children playing in nature, away from screens? Right?

Right!!! Just till one little kid, picks up a huge stone and aims it for the tree!!! Uncontrolled screeching is heard, the clamour to protect our car from getting absolutely wrecked by the jamun attackers!!! The children don’t relent, one minion has reached the top so fast, that we’re scared he hasn’t seen there’s an open electrical wire close to the tree. The absolute mayhem that is unfolding in front of us all! Phew 😰

After what I feel is, a rather long time, the kids settle down, we give them jamuns and they look us in the eye, assuring us they’ll be back tomorrow to repeat this circus!

Oh, by now, the rain water has mixed with mud and jamun slush, a bit more purple than we’d like. The floor of our home is now peppered with jamun stains! The drains are overflowing, cars are splashing muddy water into our front yard. I have a puddle to jump, the parents have blood pressure shooting up their arteries, the staff has their video cameras out to record the monsoon madness!

By the time the water recedes, the petrichor will be replaced with the smell of acidic rain. The chai would have become cold, and the sun would be grinning sheepishly.

You’re telling me, that this madness isn’t magical enough? It’s a whole twenty degrees cooler than last week, we’re struggling but with a smile. It’s green, the clouds are heavy, the air is clean.

This mausam is monsoon. This is Masoom Monsoon Mausam.