India, Oral Stories from Rural India, Santhal Tribe, Short Stories, West Bengal
Published on 07/08/2025
Comments 39

One Day Under the Dark Monsoon Clouds Of West Bengal- II

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It had already been a week since I had that unforgettable face of a boy under the tree when the thought of home had arrived for the first time in three months. May be rains do that to you. We start seeking warmth of the known, like waiting for that tea at home.

For all the weeks in this love land, Kaushik’s Bengal filled me like the rain fills old wells and trees and grasses the earth. I was living, moving in the rural country around his village as we wished. We rode throughout the day spent nights at his relatives. I remember Jhargram and Bankura in particular for I had attended one of the most mystical wedding there.

And after all these travels When we reached his home thinking after some rest i will take the evening bus to Calcutta but the moment we arrived at his place it started drizzling. Soon that drizzle became a Mizzling and by the night it was lashing sheets that it did not stop pouring for next four days.

Something I found written in my diary from that night : Here I am writing from Kaushik’s room, home, village just outside Jhargram. Its midnight. Light has come after nine hours. We have cooked six packets of maggie for ourselves with peas and potato. I think We both will eat it all tonight. I can still hear the rhythm of the fine drops drumming the earth, their cooler, someone’s antenna just outside. Kaushik has gone to get McDowell’s for himself. Its my last night or so I hope. We are partying.

Four Days Later

I am fortunate to have spent a memorable time during west Bengal monsoons. The orange sky behind the clouds woke up as rain took a break from falling after days. Caged in the rooms I found sometime and went out for a small walk. The air was muggy. Balconies were empty. Drops were still falling from the sides of the roofs. Yellow bulbs have taken a stand and sounds were coming out of walls from televisions. A little further a sole cooker spoke. I took the right turn.

Once a football field where i had played on the first day of my arrival five days ago had nature-d, transformed into a full filled country pond. It was unrecognisable. Dark was taking over the orange and the blues. But down here in front of me something seemed awry. Something revealing in the way the frogs were gathering. They were so many, so many in front of me that i could have kept running the entire day from them and they would have reached my home in Delhi only by standing one after the other. I stood in awe; it was already almost dark. A bulb behind me was giving way to many a half lit circular and semi-circular water rings, few reflecting old algae-d huts behind the palm trees waving in the reflection of the moving water.

But how can I tell you that Somehow i did not feel creepy but felt invited. For that little moment i thought whatever was going to happen, became complete after my arrival. They were waiting for me. The band of frogs had started warming up. And they were everywhere. For you could not tell who were performers from who were watching. May be they were getting ready for the last of the magic blue broad line turn dark. But you could feel that the frogs have started to hit the tempo, that raise in the collective sound of the music had started to take you by your soul, filling my already filled molecules, may be expanding them, stretching and moulding them like wet clay. The world seemed amplified. Soon crocklings coming out from millions of loose necks started mixing with other millions. It was night. And I was the audience.

Frogs seemed happy; so happy that all were gossiping, like excited old friends meeting after many years. It overpowered any sound. It was strangely unsettling for me yet likewise pleasing. They were so many that had i not heard and seen them i could have never imagined how broad, how huge some can become. Alert, Poised, mating, sleeping, playing, sitting with an attitude like they have earned it. Many rested at one place for uncounted minutes. Noising around the wet red village road. Hopping and jumping the farthest, practising like kids at rest or on their beds. Some reversed, dead lying on the road, hundreds floating in the pond. Many tumbling, rippling, whirling, lapping, purling in and out. The plop and thump and even a few exceptional ones crawling.

I wanted to at least have voice recorded it but that village offered no tripple A batteries.

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This entry was posted in: India, Oral Stories from Rural India, Santhal Tribe, Short Stories, West Bengal
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Unknown's avatar

Hi, I am Narayan Kaudinya. And i welcome you on this journey, the Road to Nara ! I am an Ethnographer and a practicing Indologist. I did my masters in History and further learnt Sanskrit, Yoga and Nerve-therapy. At 24, pushing most academic sounding, office sitting works away, i felt compelled to know and understand the world and my country, Bharat/India. I travelled, and as it happened i took up teaching in Kashmir and further up in the remote villages of Baltistan in the foothills of Karakoram Ranges. For around three years and many states later there came a time when i felt that it was only while teaching i learnt how to laugh, to see, feel, breathe, love and cry -with children, and mostly resource-less parents in the harshest-freezing border conditions. I write, and work as a documentary photographer and Filmmaker, with numerous published, exhibited and some awarded stories. In my travels and life i have let nature lead me, the divine mother, and as a Yogin, my resolve here is to share my experiences and thoughts as honestly, and through them to blossom in everyone the power and possibility in pursuing your breath, that you seek your true nature with courage and curiosity. Here, on this road i will share my spirit, my love for nature, the elements of life that are us. And in doing so, i'll be happy to see you along.

39 Comments

  4. Domeka's avatar
    Domeka says

    I enjoyed reading this your words gave such a good description which in return allowed me to vision clearly as I read it thank you for sharing this

    Liked by 4 people

    Reply
  6. Gospel Isosceles's avatar
    Gospel Isosceles says

    You led me to your site when you read my poem, Anti-creation. I feel a kinship to you after reading your About page and how you are a solo, traveling educator with a love of the arts. (For some reason I wasn’t able to comment there though.) I’m honored to witness your journey.

    Be blessed,
    Amaya

    Liked by 4 people

    Reply
    • Narayan Kaudinya's avatar
      Narayan Tushar Kaudinya says

      Dear Amaya,
      you have a beautiful name. And is carrying a meaning even in Sanskrit.
      “open to all stardust geometry”- Anti creation felt very personal and apt. And made me happy to learnt your craving for nature and all natural things

      Lovely to have you. Welcome.

      Like

      Reply
  12. darellphilip's avatar
    darellphilip says

    You capture the imagery of your surroundings well and convincingly through your writing. The personification of the frogs is also strangely alluring. A really good follow up to your first piece! 😀🙏💛👊🎉💟💯

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
  14. Richa Bhargava Mitra's avatar
    richa0112 says

    You witnessed the simplest , pure encounter with mother nature, yes the villages there, the untouched ones carry that simplicity and the most complex secrets inter-weaved in its Rain..forest and silence.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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