Understanding Rain : Through Poetry, Art and Science

“It is raining. I am tempted to write a poem.”

- Sylvia Plath

It is once again that time of the year when dark, brooding clouds waltz into the sweltering blue skies with moisture-laden winds, just to rupture fervently - into a million beads of jubilance and relief, in a rush to soothe the aching earth’s parched thirst. Excuse my feeble attempts at this poetic introduction but it is pouring outside and like Plath aptly put it, I am tempted. From Chaucer to the Bard to Browning to Gene Kelly to van Gogh and Monet to Ramanujan and AR Rahman, heavenly showers have bemused and brought together poets and artists along with scientists, since times immemorial.

The enchanting beauty and the enigmatic science behind rain intrigues everyone. Rain, as you learn in fourth-grade, is liquid precipitation. It is water falling from the sky when clouds become saturated and heavy. But did you know that irrespective of the cloud height, it falls with a maximum speed of just 10 m/s? And raindrops apparently are like fat, hamburger buns in shape; nothing close to the cartoony teardrop structure I had imagined all this while.

Whatever be its form and whenever it may fall, the rain has a way of bewitching all of our senses. The visual brilliance is best captured in Leonid Afremov’s paintings. Just like his bold colours and vivid brush strokes, rain spruces up the verdure of the earth washes sleepiness off old towns and presents a luminous spectacle for your eyes. When I think of rain, I imagine raindrops trickling down window panes, street lights reflecting off asphalt roads, ominous clouds drifting in ash grey skies, a hazy fog that mists at dawns, schoolkids splashing about in puddles and polychromatic umbrellas that crowd streets and roads.

Then there is the smell of rain- petrichor. The sweet musk-like aroma of the earth that is caused by geosmin, a chemical released by soil bacteria when they die. Ah! a gory tragedy caused by rain, but they decompose and have a rather purposeful after-life, so don’t fret too much about it.

When it comes to the ears, the mesmerizing pitter-patter of rain is the most blissful lullaby out there. Numerous apps and playlists are offering meditative rain sounds for you to sleep to. Studies have shown that when we hear the sounds of rain, our brain unconsciously relaxes and triggers alpha waves, which are similar to the state of the mind when we sleep. Rain has a tranquillizing effect because of the regular, predictable pink noise sound it makes.

Concerning languages, there are several onomatopoeic words to describe the sound rain makes when it hits the earth. In Japanese shito shito (しとしと) is for steady rain, zaa-zaa (ざーざー) for heavy rain and potsu potsu (ぽつぽつ) can describe when it is drizzling. In Korean, the sound of rain is ju-ruk and in French, plic ploc. In Chinese, xī lì huālā (淅瀝哗啦) imitates the sound of falling rain and rustling leaves. In Hungarian, it’s csipp csepp and in Hebrew, teef taf is commonly used.

Dripping, tapping, pitter-pattering, splattering or drizzling, there is nothing more soothing and joyful to the ears than the trickle of rain. Yet “All that you think is rain is not,” as Rumi said. Just like rain can’t be limited to one sense, it cannot be associated with merely one sentiment or emotion. Rain instead has a way of welling up a plethora of emotions within all of us. Rain can make you cry in misery or make you smile slyly. Make you dance with glee or writhe in pain. It can provide a comforting backdrop in the mourning of a departed soul or in pining an unrequited love. There are multiple facets to rain.

It is the maker of all life on earth and yet, confines itself to no ideology for it can be the destroyer of life too. One of the first symbolic uses of rain in literature is perhaps in the Bible, in the story of Noah and the Ark. Rain was sent upon earth to destroy sinful miscreants and spare the true believers. Rain served as punishment and a source of destruction. It also symbolises rebirth and renewal as, after the annihilating rain, a new civilization was born.

Rain has been used to set the background and setting in countless prose and poetry. Dark, stormy rains are one of the most overused pathetic fallacies for climax scenes. Rain has also been used to denote melancholy and sadness and describe long dreary days as much as it has been used to narrate happier triumphant times.

I mean, who hasn’t danced to Aishwarya Rai’s zealously infectious “Barso Re” (which I strongly believe should be made the theme song for our monsoons). As Nissim Ezekial puts it, we are a nation “Deprived of seasons” yet “blessed with rains”. And our rich tradition in rain poetry holds true to this claim. As Keki Daruwalla says, from 1st century Sangam poets like Cempulappeyanirar to 7th century Sanskrit poets like Yogeswara and Abhinanda, rain has meant romantic and sensual or sexual poetry in the Indian context. This has translated onto our screens as well, for Bollywood has romanticised rain, employing it in plots as well as memorable dance numbers like in Raj Kapoor and Nargis’ ‘Pyar Hua Iqrar Hua’, Raveena Tandon and Akshay Kumar’s ‘Tip Tip Barsa Paani’ and in our generation’s acclaimed hit ‘Tum Hi Ho’.

Our innate connection to rain is so powerful and transcendental, that we have evolved to understand, celebrate and embrace rain and its mysteries in so many brilliant ways. Biologically, we have developed extreme sensitivity to geosmin and petrichor that we can detect them at concentrations as low as 5 parts per trillion now. In the art world, we have taken on rain as muse and motif in nearly all forms. And technologically, cloud seeding and Rain Rooms (they allow you to walk in through a deluge without getting wet) exemplify our advancements. Talk about the intersection of art, technology and nature, all in one!

Call me biased, but I’d say that the beauty of rain remains best captured in words. As Langston Hughes says in his poem ‘April Rain Song’,

“Let the rain kiss you / Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops / Let the rain sing you a lullaby / The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk / The rain makes running pools in the gutter / The rainys a little sleep song on our roof at night / And I love the rain.”

Haifa Maryam

19/UELA/039