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A few more days and July will be winding up operations and handing over duties to August. So I better hurry and tell you all about what happens in July.

In July the leaves on trees suddenly become a loquacious lot. Vachalam is the Malayalam word that comes to mind. The same leaves who stood still as if in a stupor all summer suddenly are animatedly chattering non-stop, and also dancing. You see, the wind is back from his jaunts to lands far away and they cannot contain their joy. They sway this way and that, also twirl and swirl, as the wind blows. Listen, they say to the wind in excited tones, we are so happy you are back. We have lots to tell you.

The wind is in no mood to listen to them. It has stories of its own carried from far away lands to tell the leaves. No, you listen, the wind retorts, playfully puffing at them, making the leaves quiver and squeal in joy as they move one way and then another at the wind’s mercy, pulling the branches along with them. I have been places and seen things and have many stories to tell you, the wind declares. Now the leaves are all ears. They want to hear all. They clamor for the wind to quickly start on the tales.

Will you be good now and listen to me? the wind asks. The leaves nod eagerly. But when the wind begins, the leaves interrupt without qualms, like children who butt in when parents are telling them a bedtime story with one of their own made up on the spur. They counter each sentence that the wind says with ten of their own. The harried wind stops his story and puffs hard, pushing them this way and that. Stop interrupting and listen to me, the wind commands. The leaves sheepishly settle down, but it is not long before their unruliness takes over exasperating the wind once again.

It doesn’t matter whether it is sunny or rainy, this game between the wind and leaves goes on all of July, much to the delight of mere mortals like me who watch from the sidelines, and then blog about it.

© Shail Mohan 2021

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