It’s so soakingly humid That I swim on the pavements I glide Through the waves of moisture Like an eel, No, like a duck in water Submerged, breathing through new-fangled gills A chimerical, mystical thing The stuff of science fiction and ETs In a universe of visions and dreams Morphing, dissolving, changing Even as I wade on
When I bring a glass to my lips To quench a thirst that sits Uneasily, timorously in my throat There, but not really there More habit-driven than the need To drench a parched desert inside my skin I swim into the water Like a goldfish, lips turgid Gut kicking against the liquid intrusion But the impulse of living Compels me to sip, sip, sip Until I think I’ve had enough
When I dress in the morning Each garment feels like cellophane Stuck tightly to me, I’m cling-wrapped Even though each begins its day airily Lightly. I look at myself in the mirror My forehead is already wet In the heat of protest Against the layers I must don Linen - lying-in wait to suffocate Cotton - caught-on my liquified bones Fabric, propriety, a proper-riot Of ceaseless stickiness More fabric, more properness I ignore the tangled wrangle within I now wear also my morning smile Even as my upper lip glistens With the sweat of struggle Ageless now, muscle-memorized I step onto the pavement To swim, swim, swim In my designated line.
I opened the curtains to the sun peeping through Pillowy clouds were floating around - just a few I stood at the window, the sleep fading away I smiled - We were going on our seaside trip today!
I packed up my bag, threw in my shorts A couple of shirts and two pairs of socks Even by the coast I traipse around in my sneakers I grinned as I also packed my Bluetooth speaker
I went to the kitchen to make myself tea Put on the kettle and looked out at the sea Visible only from that room - the irony! I giggled - I’d soon be walking on a soft sandy beach
A steaming cup in my hand, I went to my lounge I watched a pelican as it flew drunkenly around It had become suddenly overcast and grey I laughed, it was going to be a nice drive to the bay
And then I went to the loo for a minute or five I was getting ready, my partner was about to arrive I came out to a full fledged tropical squall I guffawed at the tragedy of the “best laid plans” and all!
I closed the curtains, the sun had been snatched up by Zeus It was noon but he was obviously in one of his moods I lay down, took a deep breath, closed my eyes I sighed - The tropical weather gods loved to surprise!
This piece is inspired by the dramatic elements of surprise that are innate to tropical weather. An ethereal tribute to Sri Lanka. Title inspiration from Mark Medoff’s 1979 play titled “Children of a Lesser God”. Screen-adapted in 1986 by the same title. Indra: Hindu storm god Yu Shi: Chinese rain god Zeus: Greek storm god Calandra: Greek goddess of rain Olympus: Abode of the gods and site of the throne of Zeus
Having lived in the golden arms of a tropical island in the Indian Ocean for over 5 years now, I have had ample opportunity to experience its whimsical flirtations with the weather gods. From a spirited lightsaber play with Indra*, to a blitheful dance in the rain with Yu Shi* to a gladiatorial display of stormy rage and thunder with Zeus*, the tear drop island of Sri Lanka has perfected a celestial theatre all its own. The spectators, all its creature denizens, are left sometimes daunted, sometimes dazzled but mostly awed.
Here’s my attempt at describing a not so unusual day in the equatorial climes of Serendib.
Act 1 - Scene 1: I wake up to a pale amber light filling the space above the curtain rails in my bedroom. The usually glad-eyed sun is in a somber mood today as I draw back the drapes on an overcast day. I can feel the fickle aura of the atmosphere seep into my bones and I know it’s going to be one of those weather-wise dramatic days. I arm myself with an umbrella as I step out into the late morning torpor. For, while the heavens prepare to unleash their elemental surprises for the day, the moisture laden warmth of the tropics continues to caress all and sundry with sticky-wet fingers. The clouds continue to gather in thick-bodied eskers along the horizon while the sky above shifts between a myriad shades of grey. The trees sway to the side favoured by the wind, rustling prophetically of things to come. Then suddenly they are still, silent. A storm is brewing.
Act 1 - Scene 2: As far away as the rain bearing clouds appeared 20 minutes ago, they have magically, mysteriously traversed the curvature of our atmosphere and are now directly overhead. The grey of the sky becomes opaque like thick wedges of granite. Even though you’ve witnessed this drum roll of a scene a million times, it stops you in your tracks, makes you look up, sends the smallest of cold shivers down your spine. If you’re indoors, you look on from the safety of your enclosed space. If you’re in your car, you hurry home; if you’re walking, you quicken your steps to the nearest shelter. And then the weather gods begin their ethereal orchestra as big fat drops of rain begin to pelt the earth in an opening prelude.
Act 1 - Scene 3: Lightning forks through the sky in an ever widening mesh across the city, its jagged ends tearing into the clouds overhead. Jeering, threatening, laughing Thunder strides along with its booming megaphone. The stuporously falling rain has now transformed into sinewy sheets that cut diagonally into the stinging, singing earth. The usually bustling streets are almost empty; when the gods are at play, the mortals look on from safe distances. Maternal Calandra* cloaks the city in a gentle haze, blurring out the most riotous parts of the explosive crescendo. And the rain continues to come down.
Act 2 - Scene 1: The glistening leaves on the rain-washed trees rustle in the evening breeze, shaking off their watery burdens drop by drop. The Earth rises from her lotus position, stretching out her arms, a sweet petrichor exuding from every pore. Flying, crawling, creeping creatures poke out wary heads, blinking at their shimmering world. The more intrepid venture out for a last meal before their day is finally done. Fledglings raise a stridently petulant clamour, instinctively aware that the beast has moved on and their world is once more safe and bounteous. People hurry on with their lives, still guarded, still weather-anxious but impelled by that unceasing urge to get up and go on. There is a final roll of distant thunder as Zeus laughs one last time. The clouds clear and a rosy orange sunset appears on the horizon as the rest of the deific thespians head back to Olympus*, their cosmic romping done for the day.
Act 2 - Carpe Momentum: The late evening breeze is cool and crisp as it darts nimbly into gardens and homes, nipping gently at sun-browned skin. The sky is clearer, brighter as Orion and Taurus blink in nocturnal wakefulness. The smaller creatures are abed, while the bigger ones slow down in the gentle luminescence of a clear, fragrant night. Tomorrow will be another day with its own atmospheric act and aura, for that is the way of the lusty tropics. And the children of the weather gods will awaken to a new day, fresh beginnings and another chance to get it right.
I want to know, have you ever seen the rain? I want to know, have you ever seen the rain Comin’ down on a sunny day? – Rod Stewart
Mahvash Mohtadullah 