As the drama unfolded high in the sky, the flirtations reminded me of Kalidasa’s epical poetry, Meghaduta (The Cloud Messenger). Could amongst these prancing frothy clouds be the one whom the Yaksha had requested to carry his longings to his beloved in the Himalayas enticing him with the tantalizing sights he will behold on his way?

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Snaking around the crags and the boulders after leaving behind a cranky city, the Hazrat Nizamuddin-Hyderabad Express from Delhi rampaged ahead like a conqueror seated atop a lusty elephant devouring the volcanic Central Indian plateau. Everything that came its way gave it the way. The landscape waited with a bated breath for the clatter of the iron wheels against the rails to move out before it could rustle again.

High up in the sky, I watched, my right shoulder leaning against the door at the footboard, the silken clouds, playing a game of divine hide-and-seek as they enacted a celestial drams, the leela. Trying to steal itself from the world, the mischievous sun, sneaked into embrace of the frolicking cotton, and hid itself in its arms until the wind, unable to overcome its jealousy, blew its cover away.

Taking elements from the Hindi films, fluttering birds, swaying trees, nimble kissing flowers, my mind worked up a scenario that had flustered lovers locked in arms pressing one another into each other and even though their frames remain two they have for a moment forged their individuality and become one.

“Could I have a peacock?”

“No! Absolutely not!” Admonished the head. “Don’t you dare!” It further warned. “The monsoons were already past.”

It justified, quoting the fact.

Unmindful of the reproach, it continued weaving the picture.

Spreading its plumage to entice the female, the male, advertising virility, dancing to seduce her, to impregnate her, and to ensure that the spectacle continues long after it had become one with the earth, its body nourishing the soil, sustaining existence, including the waltzing electrons of those that simply exist, and in the process becoming life once again.

The Cloud Messenger – Pining & Longing

While the intellect is engaged in the nifty details ‘up above in the world so high’ as far as the distance the horizon lay, the clouds like moody nubile nymphets continued their childish, childlike zest, teasing air and light as they tried to entrap them with their ingenuity and beguile and charm.

AD 4^th century.

The city of Ujjain.

Another location in Central India.

Home of the celebrated Indian bard and a playwright.

Kalidasa.

Who wrote amongst others

The lyrical Meghaduta (The Cloud Messenger).

In which its lead character,

The Yaksha, a celestial being, banished to earth for one year by the Gods,

Is pining for his beloved.

His wife.

The Yaksha pours out his heart

To the clouds and requests one of them

To carry his longings

To his adorable one who is at their home

In the city of Alaka. In the distant Himalayas.

Next day takes me to Hussain Sagar Lake. Unmindful of the sprawling city the panorama of the day before bewitched me with its candour. Painted blue, donning the colour of the sky, the still water of this mammoth lake had forsaken its ‘I.’

The grand statue of Avalokiteshwara, standing at the midpoint, appeared like a tiny fleck, while overhead the flirtations of the clouds, the sky, the rays and the breeze continued to enrapture the people below.
Could they be stratospheric clouds? The brain as it enters the realm of reasoning starts thinking.

The Cloud Messenger – Paradigm Change

From ‘Meghaduta’ to ‘The Next One Hundred Years’—turns out to be a paradigm change.

“Situated 12 to 13 kilometers above the earth’s surface, the clouds in the stratosphere,” I had read, “are amongst the most beautiful sights of nature.”

“The most luminous parts of these clouds,” an observer had written, “shine like mother-of-pearl.” It further read.

“Common only in Antarctic and at that height where ozone is normally thickest, these could do incredible damage.”

Time had come to confront the malevolent aspect.

“The effect of cloudiness on earth is perhaps a major uncertainty,” Jonathan Weiner quotes Richard Somerville in the book ‘The Next One Hundred Years.’ “The bulk of every cloud is water vapour, which, since it is a greenhouse gas, raises the earth’s temperature.”

At the same time, since it bounces away a great deal of sunlight the clouds also prevent the chances of the sun warming the planet’s surface.

‘Could the two contradictory aspects offset the effect of the other?’ I wished I were a Yogi and could see the future.

However, it is not difficult to comprehend what lies ahead.

“Thick clouds that wrap Venus block 95% of the sunlight from reaching the surface, still it is unable to prevent

Venusian greenhouse from heating that planet to the melting point of lead.”

Romance gets the reality check.

A few days later I am on an overnight bus from Hyderabad to Karimnagar. Dawn was breaking over the horizon. Birds flew out of their nests for the day’s search. Clouds, basking in the rays of the rising sun wore saturated shades of fiery red. While other passengers, deeply ensconced in their world, slept, I, clasping the window bars gazed outside and sat transfixed.

Photos: Anand Jha