As I left my seva at Amrita University I heard thunder, then the sound
of swiftly approaching wind in the branches of the coconut palms. Rain
began falling through the atrium of the AICT-Biotech building, bouncing
off the plants, falling into the pond below.
Unfurling my umbrella I walked swiftly toward the boat jetty in the
company of dozens of students, hoping for quick boat service. Alas, the
boat was on the other side of the water and the volume of rain increased
as we stood clustered together, hopefully staring at the other side of
the river. I offered the shelter of my umbrella to three other students
and we stood laughing as the wind threatened to blow away the umbrella
and perhaps us as well.
The crowd on our side of the river increased. Computer, engineering,
biotech students; international visitors including a group of giggling
teenagers, and a few bramacharis and bramacharinis, workers and
villagers thrown in the mix as well. Some of the students wore their tan
uniforms. Some wore colorful and stylish salwar-kameez. We waited and
waited as the boat filled up with passengers on the other side and the
wind slanted and blew rain in under our umbrellas.
Finally the large canopied boat majestically drew up alongside the
jetty. We poured into the boat and filled up every bit of space. I
commented to a fellow Westerner about how happy and unconcerned the
local people were about getting wet. Everyone seemed to be enjoying
themselves; comparing states of wetness and smiling and laughing with
each other.
We considered that it might be because everyone in India knows that rain
is the life of the land. Without the monsoon, traditionally drought and
famine follow. The rains bring great rejoicing and many people run out
to be drenched. The monsoon usually arrives first in Kerala and then
moves across the rest of the land of Bharat. Perhaps this creates a
unique joy in the rain that is not so pervasive in our native countries.
Someone else mentioned that now that we had entered the ashram boat we
were sheltered under AmmaÂ’s roof, safe from the storm. I looked around
at the happy faces: all the different countries, all the different
colors. Despite the differences we shared the joy of rain, the joy of
shelter from the rain and the joy of the shelter of the arms of Amma.
Rta S., USA
12 Aug 2006