World in the puddle

We had a sprawling courtyard to the front of our bamboo house. Our family used the soft afternoon hours sitting on the open courtyard. I was a kid, kidding around my father’s knees. Our house was nestled in the farthest north-eastern extent of India bordering China & Burma. The Himalaya bounded us from the north, east and west. On a clear day, breezes combed our rice fields and the snow-clad mountainous peaks rose to lofty heights head-butting the cumulus clouds. The surrounding hills were covered with dense, thorny, impenetrable tropical vegetation due to the fact that our region received a heavier dose of rainfall than the greater rest of India.

In the region I was born, the heaven pours rain earlier than anywhere in India. My poor tiny feet always skided on the wet earth! My younger brother and I would dare the warnings of our parents and topple over each other body in the next moment. One or the other between us would sometime spill tears in pain. We were miserable, invariably.

We suffered the rigors of falls & skids on the courtyard, quickly collected ourselves and dashed to the local school’s ground. All other kids from the neighborhood came to mix and merry. We had fantastic level of energy in our little bodies. We could jolly tear down from one goal-post to another and still wanting to sprint one more race. You will notice that energy and intensity in your municipal parks with today's kids as they release their energy outside the classrooms when you involve them in any kind of physical activity. Kids enjoy maximum fun in open spaces.

Now, it is also very important to comment on the nature of the rainfall. Rainfalls are very heavy. They are typical torrential downpour that continues unabated for cruel hours. They are accompanied with bolts of thunder and lightenings. From the position of our village, a typical downpour to our north meant spelled a lot of trouble for the people dwelling south including us. The rivers would bloat and swell to a demon-size and broke away embankments, hutments and irrigated lands. Trails of destruction meet one's sight in the aftermath of the rainfall. Too many uprooted trees, arthritic bamboo groves, carpets of twigs, leaves and fruits along the roads. There's more. The hills appeared dull as if stripped of their might like a mass of forlorn buffaloes. Gradually as the sky picked color and sorted away the dense clouds, bird songs fill the air and the hills turned blue as if magically; blue hills upon blue hills resembled children in uniform going to school. Flocks of wild geese will also appear in the sky. It was a heavenly sight to see the white geese rowing in neat formation silhouetted against the blue hills. They were ease, calm, serene, united, disciplined and synchronized. What a lovely sight on earth! Could anything be amiss? Yes but for rainbows! Rainbows are elusive as the auroras but when they appear, they paint a picture fairer far! A rainbow was so natural to blossom in our sky. At times, they blossomed in a merry pair. Children of the Chakma tribe point to the rainbows and say that God is at work funneling water from one side of the mountain to the other or one bank of the river to the other or from a bigger river to a smaller one! As a child, I could feel the pulse of the changing surrounding. Do I imbibe that pulse today?

There is a funny part of me related to the puddles formed on the courtyard: a deep fear of falling into the puddle-worlds. It was purely quixotic of me to shirk upon finding a sky & clouds & my own reflection!!!