For the past three days the monsoon has been effective in Hyderabad. Not rains mind you but “Monsoon”- a noun and a verb combined-an activity and a feeling -the monsoon that poets and lyricists refer to in their ghazals, shairs and songs. The heavily overcast sky, the gentle drizzle, the chill accompanied by a breeze. Depending on ones' age (and of course, economic status), one reacts to this weather in different ways. To enjoy the Monsoon as described by the poets, you need to be retired and at a loose end and with Gods’ grace financially stable.
Thanks to a decent balcony and a surprising absence of “homework” I could smuggle out a few hours. I deliberately avoided books, so as to really experience the “feeling”. Absorbing the present and “listening” to the rain and the breeze, I sensed a dialogue in the making. Over millennia as the Human brain developed, Nature has been at the receiving end. What should essentially be a partnership has been reduced to exploitation by one over the other. I know this a is a trite statement known to mankind for half a century now , and there are valiant scientists advocating a halt to the plunder just as there are Jokers denying the doomsday.
Leaving the bigger problem to be resolved in others hands, I got to thinking as to how I could partner Nature for my good. The Brits are known for their gardens big, small and tiny. I think that it has an impact on their culture, their relatively better sense of fair play and courtesy. Handling plants makes one humbler, enhancing the Motherly instincts of nurture and care. Spending an hour (and I can) a day “potting” around (no pun intended) would help me appreciate better the environs and also handle the interactions during the rest of the day. I noticed that there are a number of websites on all types of gardening from individual Apartments to cities.
If I persist and succeed , then may I kindly extend to all of you a dekko of my tryst with Nature, a year from now-, Inshallah as always?
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