I remember, during the three years I spent in my ancestral village in what is now Bangladesh, after both my parents died within a year of each other, we would pray to the rain god as the occasion demanded. It was 1946 when I first got there, a boy of nine, from Benares (now Varanasi) along with my brothers and sisters. If rain was hesitant to withdraw, we would sing: "Hey rain, go far away, we will serve you sour fruit on lemon leaf," hoping the rain god would be tempted. If there was no rain for days, we would chant: "Come rain pouring down, we will offer you good many measures of paddy." People believed (perhaps they still do) that if it rains in end-February, blessed will be the king and his holy land. If it rains in December, the king will go begging.
It was still possible to enjoy the gathering of dark clouds across open spaces, the first heavy thuds of imminent rain and the shivers and ripples in large pools of water. Rain has inspired poets and songwriters for ages. In recent times Rabindranath Tagore, in particular, has celebrated rain in many ways in his songs, poems and prose. Tagore was a great lover of outdoors and would often go to live for days, even months, in his houseboat named Padma, after the famous river, which usually used to be anchored in various rivulets and tributaries in the Rajshahi, Kushtia, Sirajganj, and Naogaon districts of what is now Bangladesh. The boat would be his floating home that he loved to use just to be closer to nature's smiles and furies. His presence also helped him supervise the work of his family's landed properties in the area whenever problems arose.
It was perhaps the most creative period in Tagore's life, when he wrote many of his short stories, poems, songs and novels. When he felt like doing no serious writing, he would write letters to acquaintances back home. In one such letter he writes: "All last night it rained and gusty winds howled like excited street dogs. This morning the rain has not ceased yet. Jets of water from the fields are tumbling into the river in many places like so many mini waterfalls. It is magical. Every now and then, I wonder if ever I will be born again under this starry sky! Will I ever again, at the twilight hour on this hushed Gorai River, in this beautiful little corner of Bengal, spread out the bed on the roof of my boat and lie down in charmed wonder! Will there be another evening like this? Alas, it is lost forever!" That reminds me of his famous song "godhuli gagane meghe dhekechhilo tara" (clouds had covered the stars in the twilight skies).
But as I said, those were the days before double and triple cropping became necessary, population started to explode and chemical fertilisers and pesticides began to be used to ensure that food production did not suffer. In the process, as surface water became more and more scarce, people started to explore underground reservoirs, and as underground water became scarce as well, the fear of arsenic poisoning spread. With the climate often behaving in a bizarre manner and some 26 million mechanised tube wells in place around the country, it is a new reality for India altogether. As food production increased, the demand for water increased as well. Unregulated water withdrawal and intensive cultivation have deepened the crisis, while 54 per cent of India's landmass still faces high water stress.
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