Himalayan Times (1953)

. ~^ii>\ulitytn» 'Aim*

April 19, 1 ‘j >3

Six

MONSOON MUSINGS

BY "MOOSA”

The weather is warming up. every-
body suffers from lethargy The first
of the flies, mosquitoes and leeches are
lure, forerunners of the hordes that will
be sweeping down on us soon. Tue
monsoon already has one olamb.-ring log
over the surrounding mountains. B fore
vre know ii, we are wading through
slush, cower ng from lards ides and fight-
ing. as best as we can, the inevitable
ma ee and p ikhal of the season Shakes-
p-ar writ s: ‘in Spr ng a young muns

ian’y turns to l vo. Tor us, our fir^t
tli ughts will be for a 1 ottle of chouk-
some may pri far chlrrcdyne! Our
Spring!?, coming with the first greens
is epheimetal a brief pv< rture that
thunders abruptly to an orgiastic crescendo
of a lush tropical vegeta ion The growih
of the jungle and weeds can almost be
heaid.

One morning we get tip to find
mists billowing up from tbe valleys.
g:ant ea dd ons in which seem to brew
tbe n' xt day’s weathers, fl he rains
arrive overnight in all' their sluicing,
seething fury Persona'ly, I do not hold
the v ew that the monsoon conns

from the south west bringing along
evkpnrat d moisture from the seas. My
the >iy i9 that,- here ih our hills, the
ra us dn tot’ go away at all, but. lift
h mselect a l>> scant miles in the skv.
Pe e hey hqyvT' impatiently until the
eea-ons toll round.' Sometimes their
jiiipaience spills over. 'I hen wo get
rain dur ng the winter.

The m imoon is an annual feature.

,Iu t as we say‘many moons’to indicate
the p -b* e of months, so wo caD refer
to the v.ars by 'm^ny monsoons'. ,And,

talking of years, a certain nostalgia is
piovoked in us. The same roads s em
steeper, the same distances fuither, and
the daily routines more encivating
Friends anil neighbours continually remark
on the sudden grey fleiks on temples.
The other day 1 take down the mirror
from the wall of ray hut. 1 peer into
it, but, it tells me nn hing 1 he glas;
is sm ike sta'ned and made from very
inferior quality glass My r. flection locks
noi unlike those long-tailed, chattering
cretturos that give me so much trouble
in mv maize field Th re is ton much
distortion This, petha|», explains the
fact th»t I seem to have more wrinkles
thin 1 think I ought to

But. everything around conspires
to remind me that I have, indeed, seen
a good number t.f monsoons. Kal mpong
Bazaar the hub of my birthplace, has
it elf undergone a remarkable motamor-
jphosis. When 1 think back of the
Kahmpong of my chili hood, the picture
of the sprawling bnk'ina tree in front
of Banshis always comes up—I do not
know why. It, together with thepuywng
in front of Mansab Ali’s and the giant
rubber trees in Various parts of the
town are long sit ce pone 1 can recall
the fascination with which I watch tbe
watering-cart fprikling the dusty main
street, or the toy rid lened win lows of
Noor Buksh. One day I manage to
save one anna and go into Noor Buksh
to buy a pencil. I dare the thrill of
walking on that carpeted floor among
the candv-filled bottles. I am awed and
feel as ii' 1 am trespassing on forbidden
ground. There are some l-.urnpeans inside
1 almost bolt out of tbe shop. I am