The myriad facets of monsoon have been a source of eternal fascination for Indian poets, musicians and choreographers. Countless poems 
and songs from across the subcontinent are liberally punctuated with references to the month of Shravan. These ditties extolling the magic and mystique of the rains (varsha, baarish, barsaat) spring forth from the fecund imagination of creative souls.
Versifiers have often seen lightning and thunderclaps as the manifestation of the Almighty while equating the rains with love and passion. Romance and monsoon have always travelled hand in hand across the pages of Indian literature and on to the silver screen.
It is easy to see why. The monsoon has forever had an organic link with the history and culture of the Indian people. You think India, you think rains.
Even ordinary folk across the length and breadth of the country find ways and means of celebrating the rains, when they arrive at the end of several months of a hot, humid summer. Nothing can compare with the sheer joy of getting drenched in the first monsoon showers and soaking up the aroma that emanates from the damp earth underfoot and the rain-washed trees above.
But nobody waits for the rain-bearing clouds to dump their load on a parched earth as expectantly as the peasant. His very existence – and the prospects of a bumper kharif harvest – depend on the quality and quantum of the monsoon. A below-average monsoon – as has been the case this year – can send Indian agriculture into a tailspin and affect the output of paddy, wheat and sugarcane.
Rain songs have been an integral part of Hindi cinema ever since it learnt to sing. From Hariyaala saawan dhol bajaata aaya in Bimal Roy’s Do Bigha Zameen (1953) to Rimjhim ke tarane leke aayi barsaat in Kala Bazaar (1960) Ghanana ghanana ghir aaye badra in Ashutosh Gowariker’s Lagaan (2001), Indian films often captured communities welcoming the monsoon with song and dance.
When Raj Kapoor and Nargis sang the dulcet duet Pyar hua ikraar hua under a single umbrella in Awara, multitudinous hearts went a-flutter. The same pair repeated the magic in Barsaat. Gay abandon, sensuality, communion with nature – these songs have reflected all this and more.
But there is a flip side to the story. Excessive rain causes floods in many parts of India and claims hundreds of lives every year. Thousands are rendered homeless and whole villages are washed away when embankments collapse.
In the big cities, too, downpours often cause great disruption and throw urban life completely out of gear.
But India’s romance with the monsoon can never die even as the ill effects of climate change are being felt in the form of steadily dwindling rainfall.
and songs from across the subcontinent are liberally punctuated with references to the month of Shravan. These ditties extolling the magic and mystique of the rains (varsha, baarish, barsaat) spring forth from the fecund imagination of creative souls.Versifiers have often seen lightning and thunderclaps as the manifestation of the Almighty while equating the rains with love and passion. Romance and monsoon have always travelled hand in hand across the pages of Indian literature and on to the silver screen.
It is easy to see why. The monsoon has forever had an organic link with the history and culture of the Indian people. You think India, you think rains.
Even ordinary folk across the length and breadth of the country find ways and means of celebrating the rains, when they arrive at the end of several months of a hot, humid summer. Nothing can compare with the sheer joy of getting drenched in the first monsoon showers and soaking up the aroma that emanates from the damp earth underfoot and the rain-washed trees above.
But nobody waits for the rain-bearing clouds to dump their load on a parched earth as expectantly as the peasant. His very existence – and the prospects of a bumper kharif harvest – depend on the quality and quantum of the monsoon. A below-average monsoon – as has been the case this year – can send Indian agriculture into a tailspin and affect the output of paddy, wheat and sugarcane.
Rain songs have been an integral part of Hindi cinema ever since it learnt to sing. From Hariyaala saawan dhol bajaata aaya in Bimal Roy’s Do Bigha Zameen (1953) to Rimjhim ke tarane leke aayi barsaat in Kala Bazaar (1960) Ghanana ghanana ghir aaye badra in Ashutosh Gowariker’s Lagaan (2001), Indian films often captured communities welcoming the monsoon with song and dance.
When Raj Kapoor and Nargis sang the dulcet duet Pyar hua ikraar hua under a single umbrella in Awara, multitudinous hearts went a-flutter. The same pair repeated the magic in Barsaat. Gay abandon, sensuality, communion with nature – these songs have reflected all this and more.
But there is a flip side to the story. Excessive rain causes floods in many parts of India and claims hundreds of lives every year. Thousands are rendered homeless and whole villages are washed away when embankments collapse.
In the big cities, too, downpours often cause great disruption and throw urban life completely out of gear.
But India’s romance with the monsoon can never die even as the ill effects of climate change are being felt in the form of steadily dwindling rainfall.
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Source : IIPM Editorial, 2009
An IIPM and Professor Arindam Chaudhuri (Renowned Management Guru and Economist) Initiative
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Source : IIPM Editorial, 2009
An IIPM and Professor Arindam Chaudhuri (Renowned Management Guru and Economist) Initiative
Read these article :-
Delhi/ NCR B- Schools get better
IIPM fights meltdown
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