Theres no better place to be in during the heavy kerala monsoons in june july .
Theres an explosion of green everywhere .
Dripping water droplets from freshly bathed leaves shining like a new born baby .
The flutter of wings as birds joyfully flow in the drizzle of the dusk back to thier cosy nests to feed thier cackling young thier crimson red greedy throats wide open .
The rain waxes and wanes like the aaroham avarohanam of carnatic musis at times pitching in with so much force that small rivulets become gushing rivers but at times gently fall on the wet earth caressing it like a lover meeting his beloved after a seperation .
The rivers are angry and roaringly ferocious as the water laps the bridges where lonely buses cross precautiosly .
The sun knows its beaten during these times as its vain attempts to shine forth is defeated by dark clouds pregnant with rain .
Its a waterworld with roads full of potholes but looking smooth filled with brown water which covers the holes and mounts with marxian efficiency .
The waves go large and bobbing boats show glimpses of wet fishermen struggling in the rain by glimpses of lightening flashes .
The butterflies twit in haste before being brought down to the crowd not by ego for thier lovely coats but by the weight of water on thier backs .
The crickets hum the frogs cry to sing the fly hums and the bumble bee makes electronic music .
Wet men and women reprimand joyous children to get away from the rain to the safety of thier houses tempting them with delicious food .
While the poor paper thier cracks to get over the wet miserable season when they stand on water and get dripped with water .
Wetness is the password of kerala in monsoon where God paints the state with a swathe of colours and admires his pastel creativities .
Theres an explosion of green everywhere .
Dripping water droplets from freshly bathed leaves shining like a new born baby .
The flutter of wings as birds joyfully flow in the drizzle of the dusk back to thier cosy nests to feed thier cackling young thier crimson red greedy throats wide open .
The rain waxes and wanes like the aaroham avarohanam of carnatic musis at times pitching in with so much force that small rivulets become gushing rivers but at times gently fall on the wet earth caressing it like a lover meeting his beloved after a seperation .
The rivers are angry and roaringly ferocious as the water laps the bridges where lonely buses cross precautiosly .
The sun knows its beaten during these times as its vain attempts to shine forth is defeated by dark clouds pregnant with rain .
Its a waterworld with roads full of potholes but looking smooth filled with brown water which covers the holes and mounts with marxian efficiency .
The waves go large and bobbing boats show glimpses of wet fishermen struggling in the rain by glimpses of lightening flashes .
The butterflies twit in haste before being brought down to the crowd not by ego for thier lovely coats but by the weight of water on thier backs .
The crickets hum the frogs cry to sing the fly hums and the bumble bee makes electronic music .
Wet men and women reprimand joyous children to get away from the rain to the safety of thier houses tempting them with delicious food .
While the poor paper thier cracks to get over the wet miserable season when they stand on water and get dripped with water .
Wetness is the password of kerala in monsoon where God paints the state with a swathe of colours and admires his pastel creativities .
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