Thalatudhe vanam

There is rain in this song. Something about the beat, its rhythm and one of the recurring instruments, and the way it is sung, reminds you of a rainy day. It hasn’t started raining yet, but you can feel it in the air. Maybe it’s after a long, hot summer. The air cools a bit, you look up and see dark clouds lumbering across with the weight of water drops, the sunlight dims considerably. Distant thunder growls, prophesying a welcome shower. There is a certain playfulness in the whole atmosphere, in the cattle that are coming back home early, in the school children returning, in the chirping of the birds that probably know a thing or two about nature’s ways, in the leaves that are being carried in a swirl by the wind. It’s as if the whole earth is romancing the nimbus clouds with its swaying rhythm to welcome the first shower in a while. And then it starts. The first few drops fall on the dry, scorched pavements and tar roads, on the plants and trees and the soil, unlocking the heady fragrance of the earth. It gets heavier and the drops coalesce to liquid lines connecting heaven and earth. People run for shelter, covering their heads with whatever they have, newspapers, shopping bags, anything. But there’s a sense of happiness. Kids go out to welcome the summer rain, there’s celebration in the air.