One evening as a young boy, I walked with my dad through the bustling Amritsar streets towards the Golden Temple. Heavy gray clouds had gathered, full to their seams, holding the rain for just a little longer.
As we entered the temple and stepped on the warm white marble of the walkway, the air had already cooled. A sudden hush. Growing up, I was familiar with this quiet held breath just before the downpour.
The symphony was about to begin. Lightning flashed in the sky. Thunder followed. We walked faster. And then a beautiful gift along the way: Raag Malhar started playing in the speakers. The raga of the rains.
“Saavan aaya hey sakhi.”rains have arrived, my beloved
By the time we reached the inner sanctum, and stepped on its plush woven rugs, the rain droplets had started trickling outside. The music welcomed what the sky was no longer able to hold.
We walked up the stairs of the sanctum and sat beneath its shelter. The great dance of nature had begun.
The thundering clouds, flashes of lightning, glistening marble, glowing lamps, pouring rain, shimmering water, smell of fresh rain, reverberating ragas. The aliveness.
That evening is as alive in me today as it was then. I welcome you to come sit beside us, and soak in the atmosphere. Stay for as long as you like.