The fact that the monsoons come at about the same time every year gives expectation a sort of permanent place in the Indian’s mental calendar. This does not happen with other people, for example the Arabs, who also thirst for water and bless its descent. (If the Arabs had the monsoon turning up with the same regularity, their calendar would have taken note of changes of seasons instead of being linked with the vagaries of the moon.) All the different calendars current in India are a dexterous combination of the lunar and the solar systems. As a result, the correspondence between the month and the season is much closer. On the official day heralding Spring, the chill winds of winter mysteriously vanish and a warm breeze begins to blow. Similarly, while the coming of the monsoon may be any day in June or July by the Roman calendar, more often than not the first of Sawan will see it in full force all along the Western ghats and well inland up to the plains of the Punjab.

Sawan is the month for lovers. Just as Spring turns a young man’s fancy to thoughts of love, in Sawan an Indian girl longs to be in her lover’s arms. If her lover is not there, she languishes away singing songs of sadness. That spirit is expressed by the Guru in his composition on the monsoon, in which, following the literary tradition of the time, he describes God as the Great Lover and the devotee as His mistress yearning for union with Him.

The season of rains is here

My heart is full of joy

My body and soul yearn for my Master.

The Master is away and if He return not,

I shall die pining for Him.

The lightning strikes terror in my heart.

I stand alone in my courtyard

In solitude and in sorrow.

O Mother of Mine, I stand on the brink of death.

Without the Lord I have no hunger

Nor no sleep;

I cannot bear the clothes on my body.

Spake the Guru: She alone is a wife true

Who loseth herself in the Lord.

The monsoon had burst some time after midnight. The thunder and lightning was enough to wake the dead but people had just lain in bed pretending that they were asleep. It came as usual: first a few heavy drops and everyone announced to everyone else, ‘It is going to rain,’ then suddenly it began to pour. There was shouting on all the roof tops and much bustle and activity as servants ran from their quarters to help bring the charpoys and bedding down into the verandahs. It took some time to get back to sleep again—but not too long. Nerves which had been frayed by the heat were soothed. And the sound of water spouting down from the roof, the gurgle of the gutters and of the rain falling in torrents was like a lullaby.