Four Seasons: day 38 of #100happydays

I often dream of living in a place where there are four seasons. A snow-covered Winter Wonderland. Crocus blossoms heralding the advent of Spring. Warm Summers, giving way to the Reds and Golds of Autumn.

Reality is different. The four seasons that we have are Hot, Hotter, Hottest and Wet. Not much variety, unfortunately.

 But it is precisely because we don’t have real seasons that we have an experience uniquely our own. Leaves turning red on one tree, barren branches on another, new shoots on a third. All the seasons in one orderly row of trees. The cycle of life.

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Vasanth Ritu, the Season of Spring

Considering there is an entire festival devoted to commemorating the advent of "Vasanth Ritu". Considering there are over a dozen unique names for the Season. Considering "Vasanth Ritu" is much celebrated in music, dance and literature. Considering all that, it’s strange that for all practical purposes, India doesn’t have a "Vasanth Ritu".

The brief interlude between Winter and Summer is just that- an interlude. One day you notice it is getting too hot for sweaters, the next day, you are sweating in a sleeveless tee-shirt. That’s how short it is. And yet, we persist with the myth of "Vasanth Ritu". 
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There are words, and there are words. Some words can be easily translated, others need to be described.  In April, I’ll attempt to capture the Soul of 26 'Indian' words in a  drabble of exactly 100 words.

The Tale of the Great Tease

This was ‘the Hottest Summer in recorded history’, hotter than last year which had been only the hottest in a decade. If they thought labeling it would make the heat a little more bearable, they couldn’t have been more wrong.
The only thing that kept the city going was the knowledge that Summer always led to Monsoons. Atavistic memories of the cool rain-laden breeze hitting you as you hurried home.

But Monsoon is a Great Tease. She threatens to come, then veers away. She makes you wait, and wait some more. And when you can’t wait anymore, she comes. Finally.
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Drabble (n) - an extremely short work exactly one hundred words in length.

It finally rained! The world is beautiful again.

The Universe in a Raindrop

This margosa plant was born last monsoon

Raindrops trickling down a branch

Seasons - Summer

Summer!!! Summer holidays!!!

Visiting grandparents in Madras. Making sand castles in the front yard. Weaving tiny mats out of coconut fronds. More coconut water than you ever thought you could drink.

Walking to the beach. Running away from waves. Watching crabs dive into the sand. Collecting sea shells. Hunting for pairs, rejoicing when you found a spiral one.

Warm nights tempered by the strong sea breeze. The starry sky. A story accompanying every pin-point of light.

Trips to the temple. Setting the polished brass bells pealing. Women selling flowers to wear in your hair.

Summers were always special to me.

Seasons - Monsoon

Hot corn cobs popped on embers of coal,
Watching the giant waves, being showered by spray.
Monsoon memories for free.

Multicoloured umbrellas to twirl over your head,
Splashing through puddles, running in the rain.
Monsoon memories for free.

Jeans that are specked with splashes of mud,
Clothes drying indoors, the faint smell of must.
Monsoon memories for free.

Enjoying the drizzle from the safety of home,
A mug of steaming coffee, plates of pakodas well made.
Monsoon memories for free.

Sticking out your tongue to catch the raindrops,
A faint burst of sun, the sudden downpour.
Monsoon memories for free.
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Drabble (n) - an extremely short work exactly one hundred words in length. The purpose of the drabble is brevity and to test the author's ability to express interesting and meaningful ideas in an extremely confined space.