An urban plea to the Rainmaker

Whoever says they like summer in this part of the world may have had a past life in the Antarctic. The scorching summer sun is like the scornful eye of an angry individual, just staring down the earth-bound minions into total submission. Thank heavens when the Rainmaker decides to put a halt to this! The first pitter-patter of water drops from the sky are heralds of the coming season; as they evaporate on the heated streets, the message is more than received!

But what is that? Audible groans of despair are heard when the skies darken! What has become of the children who merrily splashed about in the muddy puddles after school? Where in the world are the young people, who just drop everything for a taste of the most pure water they can find? What has become of the reminiscing that comes with the soothing cool after a long stretch of unbearable heat?

The Maker of Rains shudders to a halt at the sight of all that is concrete and steel while choking on the peculiar mix of dust and smoke. This is an alien sight after a visit to the fast disappearing greens. Why are people converging to this place where nothing welcomes them and everything is a stand still for nearly eight hours of day time? Maybe the Rainmaker thinks, "Time for a good drizzle to make things move." A new calamity befalls on the denizens of this mysterious plane of convergence. Now after a good splash of heavenly respite, the roads, streets and alleyways are clogged, while resembling rivers and disjointed tributaries, only not  nearly as clean! Utter confusion for the Rainmaker, and maybe that is why we keep getting these odd rains throughout the day, for even nature is now confused with us!

At the first drop of rain, the young man riding his steel horse seeks to cover his precious illuminated rectangle of world conquering wonder, for it cannot take even one drop of this heaven sent blessing. The morose children scuttle under umbrellas for they are too burdened preparing for a future which no one can predict. And those in their still unmoving steel encased chariots curse their luck, for some new lake is about to appear before them. Hardly anyone is happy with the Rainmaker's allotted duty.

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Sometimes no one even notices that it is not rain, but stray tears from the dweller above the skies. Tears for those who have only bitter words for the nourishing water that gives life to the tiniest of plants. Tears for the wheezing young woman who catches a cold at the slightest drop from the skies touching her skin, and still has to carry on her daily chores.

The Maker of all Rain, time and again decides not to visit this strange, fast paced and somewhat thankless place. Rain only seems to make things worse.

Yet in our heart of hearts, we do not want this particular seasonal wanderer to desert us. What is an afternoon after the daily grind if you have not been drenched? How can you claim to be a fit urbanite if you cannot race against the slight drizzle? The monsoon winds are eager to meet up with the Rainmaker, their journey was long and uncertain. They do not want to be disappointed.

To the God of Rain, a plea to not start your merry dance right before the office hours. A prayer to not throw a tantrum and lock the hard working denizens in a temporary bog. But you are welcome to plan that wondrous shower in the afternoon's receding sunlight! Here is an urban promise to welcome you once again, for our skies are incomplete without you.

 

Photo: Tenzing Chakma

Edit: Salek Bin Taher

Models: Mar. Vazquez, Giovanna Utrilla

Wardrobe: Sozpodor By Tenzing for Mexico Fashion Show, organised by Embassy of Bangladesh