Rain, as Catharsis of the Sky

I wrote this in 1993, and I have now translated it to English. I am including both versions here. English first.

The Sky had spent many days harboring its sorrows within itself. There were many clouds over its usually clear, light and cloudless frame of mind, due to the weight of many days of conflict.

We often find a unique representation of our emotions in many facets of nature. The pangs of despair and the ache resulting from it had found symbolic representation in the lightning that ensued.

The sudden, unexpected, short-lived, but blinding lightning was slashing against the Sky’s heart. The cruel, savage lightning turned the helpless Sky into a wounded soul.

The Wind was conveying the state of this wounded Sky everywhere; it was running in all directions, frantically searching for help. But no one listened. The flora and fauna on the Earth couldn’t look at this depressed state of the Sky, and wanted to help, but they were rooted to the Earth. They were not free to leave the confines of their Mother Earth. The trees were swaying listening to the story from the wind, trembling in vain attempts to reach out to the Sky, but they couldn’t move.

Notwithstanding all this, the torture of the lightning continued. The Sky’s pains and anguish grew. There were thunderstorms. The Sky began to shudder. After crossing its limit for grief, the Sky, already drawn to the point of tears, began crying. Teardrops began to fall. As if it was pouring its heart out in crying, rain began to fall.

The Earth, who had been witnessing all this silently, ran to the rescue. The Earth’s soil emanated that unique fragrance, reaching out to the Sky, offering a shoulder for it to cry. The Sky was outpouring all its grief that it had held for a very long time, and kept raining, seeking the warmth of the Earth. The essence of this embrace between Earth and Sky was symbolized by that unique fragrance, where they met and caressed each other…

Now the original Marathi version:

आभाळ अनेक दिवसांचे ओझं स्वतःकडेच बाळगून होतं. खूप दिवसांच्या संघर्षाच्या वजनाने त्याच्या एरवीच्या स्वछ, हलक्या, निरभ्र मनस्थितीवर मळभ चढलं होतं.

आपल्या भावनांचं मूर्त स्वरूप सृष्टीत एका अलौकिक समर्पकपणाने आढळतं, जसं काही दिवसांपूर्वी प्रयत्न करून झगडणारी झाडांची मुळे दिसली. गेल्या काही महिन्यातल्या दुखांच्या वेन्दानांना व होणाऱ्या यातनांना विजांच्यास्वरूपात मूर्तता सापडली.

त्यांच्या अचानक, अनपेक्षित, तात्कालिक तीव्रतेने आंधळं करणाऱ्या विजा आभाळाच्या काळजाला ओरबाडत होत्या. त्या भीषण, क्रूर विजांनी असह्य आभाळाला जखमी करून सोडलं.

आभाळाची ही घायाळ दश वारा सर्वत्र सांगत सुटला, ही घटना सर्व दिशांना पसरवत गेला, मदतीच्या शोधात तो सैरावैरा धावत होता.

पण कोणीही आलं नाही. आभाळाची ही अवस्था धर्तीवरच्या सृष्टीला पाहवत नव्हती. पण ती धरतीला बांधली होती, मदतीला धावायला मुक्त नव्हती. वार्याची वर्णनं ऐकून झाडंविव्हळत होती, व्याकुळतेने आभाळापर्यंत पोहोचायचा प्रयत्न करत होती पण त्यांना आपल्या जागेवरून हलता येईना.

ह्या सर्वाला न जुमानता विजांचा छळ चालूच होता. आभाळाच्या यातना वाढत गेल्या. मेघगर्जना होऊ लागल्या. आभाळ हुंदके देऊ लागलं. प्रतीकार्शक्तीची सीमारेषा ओलांडल्यावर ओथंबलेल्या अवस्थेत अस्वस्थ असलेलं आभाळ रडू लागलं. अश्रू वाहू लागले. आभाळ ढसाढसा रडत असल्यासारखा पाउस पडू लागला.

आत्तापर्यंत शांत बसलेली धर्तीही आभाळाच्या मदतीला धाऊन आली. आपल्या मातीचा दर्वळत्या वासाने तिने आभाळापर्यंत आपल्या आधाराचा खांदा पोहोचवला. आपलं साठलेलं ओझं आभाळ वाहू देत होतं, स्वतःला धर्तीपर्यंत पोहोचवत होतं.

धरती व आभाळाच्या ह्या मीलनाचं सारांश त्या मातीच्या दरवळत्या वासात सामावलेलं होतं…

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  • छान

  • Sanat Gersappa

    Nice and pretty accurate.

  • Thank you, folks!

  • Akkiman

    Very nice

  • Jay

    Very nicely written… You know what I dont know Marathi much, but could learn mean of may Marathi words from this post. Once suggestion, can you put this post in column layout, it would be so easy to map English version to its original Marathi version.

  • Thank you, Akshay, Jay.

    Jay, thanks for the suggestion, but I don’t think the translation is the key point of the post. If it were, your suggestion would’ve been most pertinent and useful.

  • exquisite. reminds me of a song taron se saj ke apne suraj se dekho dharti chali milne. I loved the original in marathi much more because I feel there are some words, phrases and expressions which can not be described in a translation. Apratim.

    • Thank you, Tikulicious! The song reference is amazing 🙂 Thank you so much.

      • 🙂 Do visit my blog sometime. Would love your views.

  • Looking forward to reading the Marathi version once I’ve started studying it! (my plan for the early 2012 stay in Pune)

    • Wow! You’re amazing! Can’t believe it…awesome.

  • I know the translation is not the point, but I ended up with my own version, because of this keeda I have. Apologies in advance:

    It’s not my usual loose translation (swaira), and I’ve tried to keep it faithful, with little liberties.

    Sky
    was worn down by the baggage it had carried for a long time. The
    conflicts of those days had overclouded its otherwise clear, uncluttered
    mind.

    Many
    a times our emotions find uncanny parallels in nature. The lashing
    pains and the despairing grief, pent up within for days and weeks, found
    their embodiment in the lightening. The pangs of grief, unanticipated,
    acute, blinding, tore at its heart, left the hapless sky bruised.

    The
    wind spread the news of the plight of the sky in every which direction,
    frantically searching for help. But no one offered to help. Down on
    earth, the trees watched the sky helplessly. The tales of the wind moved
    them, they shuddered, and swayed. In vain, they tried to break free.
    But rooted too strong in their world, they could not break free —
    to run to the sky, and offer it some solace.

    Unbecoming,
    the lightening continued it’s torture. The sky was now engulfed in
    waves of unbearable pains. Encouraged, lightening stepped up its
    cruelty, roaring, and thundering.  The sky shuddered, and then, when
    the pains crossed a point, tears escaped it. A
    trickle gave way to a downpour, as sky opened up.

    The
    earth, which was the silent spectator, now offered her solidarity. As she
    imbibed the first teardrops, the wet earth let out a unique scent. Aided
    by the wind, it reached the sky, a token of earth’s compassion. It was
    as if the earth had put her arm around it. That touch
    was all the sky needed; to let go. As it cried its heart out, the
    downpour lasted for a while, releasing all the pent up agony. Even when
    it finally stopped, the essence of their communion lingered on through
    the scent of the wet earth.

    • Thank you, Sir. Your comment was like an egg that hatched itself into yet another blog post.