Finally it has arrived! Lest you are bitten by the Dada Kondke bug, let me hasten to tell you that the ‘it’ in question, is the wonderful, gorgeous and stupendous monsoon. As the dark clouds envelop the sky, their bosom heaving with luminous rain, the silver streaks of lightning flashing to illuminate, albeit for a fraction of a moment, the joyousness of a burgeoning earth…
The optimism of the koels who have been singing their plaintive yet seductive songs in an attempt to entice the clouds has finally paid off…And the skies have opened in a veritable deluge of sparkling drops that touch the earth and the magic unfolds…the earth bursts forth in a celebration of renewal and reaffirmation…The monsoon in India comes laden with myriad moods and connotations, romance and viraha or separation, poetry and puddles, fertility and floods, art and affection woven in the colours of the rainbow in joyous abandon.
In the Ragamala paintings, the pictorial illustration and symbolism of the two ragas of this season Megh and Malhar highlight the shade differences of the tonal mood of the monsoon. Megh is of a dark and serious mood. It is a time when the sky is heavily overcast and rolls of thunder growl threateningly and its gripping aura suggests a somber depth. Megh has the distinction of being accepted in all the four major matas or groups of raga classification. When the custom of visualising these forms became accepted practice, Megh was represented as a dark, handsome man with formidable appearance. In his left hand he carries a naked sword, flourishing it in the air as if rending the sky to bring rain.
The ragini Malhar is depicted as draped in white, sitting on a bed of jasmine, holding a do-tara. And just like the intensity of the downpour almost like an arc, there is a distinct bearing on the placement of the ragas’ singing schedule. At the onset Dhulia Malhar is sung – as the dust or dhul still blows in gusts, the semi-dry harshness is interspersed with startling intermissions of welcoming raindrops. The logic is that it is not merely the ragas, but the swaras that dance to the rain. From this major form of Megh are derived the six raginis of Malhari, Sorathi, Sawani, Kaushiki and Gandhari. I recall that there are some 115 forms of Malhars including the more popular Mian ki Malhar named after Tansen, Gaud Malhar, Surdasi Malhar, Ramdasi Malhar to the rarely heard Jayant Malhar, Nat Malhar and Kedar Malhar.
I can’t help recalling the work of the artist Parnam Singh who has made Benaras his home, where the sensual and stunning beauties are set against the rain-laden skies. Living in Benaras, how could he have remained untouched by the kajris and jhoolas in the so-called light classical genre immortalised by Girija Devi and have the power to haunt as the incessant rain beats against the windowpanes. The viraha songs of the women who await the arrival of their beloved touch a new depth of poignancy as they are sung in monsoon in Rajasthan, eastern Uttar Pradesh and Bihar. A particularly evocative one likens the bridegroom’s sehra woven from the fragrant jasmine flowers of the season and the lightning akin to the silver and gold zari of the cummerbund wound around his waist, the thunder reverberations from the gallop of his white steed…Unlike the northern hemisphere, rain is not only welcome here in India; it is in every sense the true beginning of all things from harvest to festivals to creative impulses. Of classical imagery of rain and resurgence Kalidas’ lyrical poem Meghdootam — the messenger cloud — when a divine Yaksha is separated from his Yakshini by the gods, his pining messages of love are carried by monsoon clouds, is arguably the finest example of monsoon-related poetry: The sky on every side is shrouded by rain clouds/Which wear the beauty of deep blue lotus petals... Centuries later, Rabindranath Tagore would look at the monsoon sky and write: Lightning darts through the clouds, ripping them/Dotting the sky with sharp crooked smiles…
Of course the one branch of the arts that has made much of the monsoon in contemporary times is cinema – from Satyajit Ray’s Pather Panchali to Amitabh Bachchan virtually manhandling Smita Patil and singing Aaj rapad jayen to… to Mani Ratnam capturing the majestic monsoon in Kerala to hundreds of songs drenched in rain in the last hundred years of Indian cinema!
It is my contention that my best works have been painted in the rain as I watch it from my window, listening to the imposing voice of Begum Akhtar singing Koeliya mat kar pukar karajva lage katar…

Dr Alka Raghuvanshi is an art writer, curator and artist