Rain Requiem
“Nanhiii….”, she could hear her mother calling out, but she would dilly dally a little more!
“Naniiiiii….”
Gripping the stalk with one hand and the tip with the other, Nanhi balanced a broad banana leaf overhead as her umbrella. The pallav of her cotton saree tightly cinching her waist while its soft taant border just grazed against her shin. She stretched a thin arm out to grab a few raindrops, but when did those ever stay captive? Unlike her.
“She wants something!”
“Get Gangajal!”
“It’s raining cats and dogs today, how’s the doctor going to reach us?”
Ma had tried to tame her feet with a Lakshman rekha of Alta. In rebellion, Nanhi had run out into the rain to stand in a fresh-born puddle. Little streamlets snaked around her ankles stealing bits of red Alta from her feet.
‘Like little red snakes disappearing from sight the moment you spot them’, Nanhi spoke to no one in particular.
“Nani….?”
“Nanhiiiii…”
Dhi na, dhi dhi na…
little raindrops had been rhythmically drumming on her banana leaf umbrella for a while. She stomped her feet with the same rhythm splashing mud on to her saree. A sudden flash of lightning made her shudder.
“Bring blankets, she’s cold!”
ti na ,dhi dhi na… the rain picked up tempo in Jhap taal
She could see her brothers waiting ahead. Their tall silhouettes visible through the beady curtains of rain.
She had always envied the freedom and attention they got. Girls were not meant to fly free like the wind nor come pouring down, unbridled, like rain. Instead, they were better off being trained to flow like quiet rivers, sustaining anyone who walked by their side.
“what’s your job with the tabla?” Ma had been harsh with her reprimands. “Learn to cook and feed all who sit at your table instead. That’s what’s going to fetch you a groom!”, ma had dragged her out brusquely from the room where her brothers did hours of riyaz.
Ma always seemed stressed and could nag and whine without end. With time, Nanhi had learned drown out ma’s whining with the taal in her mind.
Dha dhi na, dha ti, na.
Like torrential rain in Dadra taal… washing clean their verandah of leaves and dust.
That’s why she loved the Monsoons. It washed away anything that was losing root.
“Nanhiiii…..”, her brothers called out from beyond the curtain. She did not know why she was faltering. Had she forgotten something behind?
“Naniiiii…”
Nanhi’s eyes focused on the face right before her. For a moment, the clouds seem to lift. She recognized Rimjhim, her granddaughter. A weak smile lifted the corners of her mouth and then she closed her eyes.
The rain which was pelting the window pane with fury just a little while ago, seemed to die down all of a sudden. The silence was akin to one that grips an audience after a spellbinding recital.
At nani’s prayer meeting, Rimjhim Sanyal, tabla maestro, played a heartfelt tribute.
***
Glossary:
Nani – Maternal grandmother
Taant- a cotton weave from Bengal
Alta – a red dye that is applied to the hands and feet of women, mainly in the Indian subcontinent. It is applied with a cotton swab or brush to the hands and feet during marriage ceremonies and festivals.
Jhap taal-a 10 beat taal played on the tabla
Dadri taal – a 6 beat taal played on the tabla
Taal – a cycle of beats or mantras in Indian classical music
Riyaz- systematic practice of music
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