Mother, As Fleeting Raindrops

By Sukumar Ruj

I sat down on the veranda, and suddenly, the rain came pouring down. Unconsciously, I started humming a tune: 

‘Come, rain, come pouring down,

  We’ll measure out the grains...’

Ah, those memories of my adolescence! I had learned this rhyme from my mother, and whenever the clouds gathered, I would dance and sing it with my hands raised. I recall that when my mother was around, I would recite the last two lines: 

‘In the rice, there's a pest 

The householder's a baby, I guess.’

But when she wasn't around, I would recite the version my sister had taught me: 

‘In the rice, there's a pest

Bro-in-law's a fool, I guess.’

My bro-in-law was indeed a man of limited intelligence. One day, when my sister was distracted, he attempted to show me some affection. I however, was completely unprepared and let out a loud shriek. My sister rushed over, asking, ‘Ru, what’s wrong?’That's when the penny dropped for my sister – the household's fool was no longer just a figure of speech (It was then that my sister realised the reality of the situation). Since then, the household has never had a baby. My sister is now divorced and my mother has turned into rain drops shedding from my eyes. 

By Sukumar Ruj