It's Raining Again

When the rain came down, I was standing in the green. My soul was touched by every tree that my eyes could see. I am in peace, in love, in harmony when the rain comes down.

- Happy Rhodes

***

I remember hanging out @ a place called Skate Ranch in Milan, IL when this song was popular back in 3rd grade. The lingering aroma of buttered popcorn waffled the atmosphere in that place. The year was 1974-'75, when my elementary school mates hung out @ Skate Ranch during the weekends. Great times!

comment by ChihuahuaboyDH @ Neil Sedaka - Laughter In The Rain

We all need laughter in the rain!  What a gorgeous world it would be if we saw many happy men and women just frolicking under the winter showers, holding hands and kissing.  Why must there be so much fear to find someone with whom we can share affection and deep tenderness?  People think that such a thing cannot be enjoyed without promising to be with the other person for life.  Why?  Change partners.  Share your love.

comment by sandinyourshoes @ Neil Sedaka - Laughter In The Rain

This song always makes me cry cause it reminds m about how my mother left us to "look for a brand new start" because she really did take my heart away.

comment by Zukamara @ The Casades - Listen to the Rhythm of the Falling Rain

This song means so much to me. 1961 and my girlfriend and I were listening to the radio. She said she was breaking up with me and all of a sudden this song came on. Teen love, raindrops did fall from my eyes.

comment by Silver Fox Fox @ Dee Clark - Raindrops

They say a song brings back a thousand memories. When this was a Top 40's hit, I was working summers for a local Coke bottler. My job was as helper on a delivery truck. We carried case after case of Cokes up stairs, into supermarkets, taverns, restaurants, &c., including some in the ghetto. When I got off work, I would listen to Dee Clark sing this song over and over again. I loved it. I could not get enough of it. I still have the 45 rpm single.

comment by James Martin @ Dee Clark - Raindrops

***

rainy days are back

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary,
It rains, and the wind is never weary,
The vine still clings to the moldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

-The Rainy Day, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

red, white, & green

tricolors...

carpet of green

Walls bloomed with moss - the aftereffect of rains.

its raining

The first sounds I ever heard were those of falling rain.
- starting words of Alexander Frater's 'Chasing the Monsoon'


It rained all day - slow and steady like a gentle shower. Put up in my home, all I did was to lay lazy and read Frater's Chasing the Monsoon with some calm rain songs and enchanting ghazals playing in the background.

The climate was just perfect to read the classic. And though I read it many times, it still evokes the joy I had while reading it the first time.

In this travelogue while following the monsoon all the way from Trivandrum to Cherrapunji, Frater brilliantly portrays the essence of the monsoon in India. He amuses the readers by introducing the local people, their humorous activities in their busy life.

Overall the book is a great pleasure to read and abundantly informative.
Easily recommended for a rainy day reading.

Step-Out, Step-In

It has been a rather dull monsoon for me this year. Just a few heavy rains now and then. The weatherman's prediction of good rainfall has completely gone wrong and failed to drench me as I have dreamt.

Anyway its time to say 'goodbye' to the monsoon and is also the time to say 'hello' to winter. The new season as I could feel is slowly stepping in. Its time to catchup with warm rugs, long sleeps, and hot coffees.
.....

Rain

The only sounds I could hear for the last few days are the showers of the Rain Gods on trees, plants, and roof tops. Everything was drenched in rain.

Sitting in a cane chair in the veranda and sipping hot coffee, I felt the marble floor so freezing that I dragged my legs onto the chair and snuggled myself.
I watched the rainwater slide from the roof tiles onto the ground and hastily flow towards the drain. There little Minu was sending paper boats. In the fields at a distance, Velu was busy grazing his cattle. Rain or shine, the man never crosses his time-table I thought. At the other end of the veranda, grandfather was sitting in a chair spreading his thin bare legs on the floor. Clad just in a simple white lungi and nothing else, I wondered how he beats the chill at this age.






Getting up from the chair, after finishing the coffee, I wore my chappals and took an umbrella into the rain. Walking towards the fields I found the flowers, buds, and leaves dropped to ground unable to bear the weight of rainwater. Coconuts fell down losing their mighty grip. Banana plants bent aside unable to stand in loose soil.
And walking on the loose, wet, clayey soil, Ouch!... I slipped a bit loosing my grip.
.....

The Black Umbrella

Madhavan ‘master’ is a local school teacher for the last three decades. Being one of the first literate of the sleepy backward village, he was looked upon with great respect.

A man with simple life, people recognised him with a clean white cotton shirt, and an equally white lungi. With a black handbag in his left hand and a long black umberalla (during monsoons) in the right, the man was a graceful sight to watch.

Every morning master would walk to his nearby school through fields, plantations, and muddy roads swinging his umbrella now and then. He has been using it ever since he became a teacher. In fact he was the first proud owner of an umbrella in the village.

The villagers at that time used to carry the traditional woven palm-leafed umbrella with a long wooden handle. Others simply used a broad banana leaf over their head. And some wrapped their heads with plastic covers. But master was the only one with a modern umbrella. People watched him with awe when he entered the street with the long, black wonder.

But today, the times changed. The sleepy village is now a bustling town, and every child in the school has his own umbrella. Some black, some colourful. Some attached with articles like whistles and torch lights. Even the size of the umbrella decreased drastically from walking stick size to pocket size.

But still master walked with his long black umbrella, … with hardly any watchers.
.....

Monsoon Showers

So there I was, standing one day in the dazzling sunlight of the courtyard, combing my beard. A passing summer shower suddenly tattooed the dusty lawn. The air was filled with the fragrance of the heady mixture of earth, rain and sunlight. I stood happily in the courtyard, breathing in the smells waiting, like my herbs and jungles, for the grand arrival of the rains, thinking of nothing, my mind flying free like a floating leaf. There was a sudden gust of wind. Behind it came a luminous drizzle from the rainclouds that rushed across the sunny sky. I wanted to leap into the joyous wind, the rain and the fleeing clouds. ‘Here I come!’ I jumped, my arms lifted, to touch the clouds. ‘Aha! Aha!’ I screamed. ‘Take me too!’

-Paul Zacharia, The Garden of the Antlions.

Photos contributed by : Sateesh