Two Hopes in the Monsoon: The Rainy Maiden and the Elusive Tail of Justice

 **July 2006**

 

A week after the monsoon's early arrival, by a day or two, it has been a period of cloudy display, humid eastern breeze, luxuriant neem, and the occasional boughs swaying to the great fan keeper, and light, soft spells of drizzles here and there.

Here in this part of India, monsoonal clouds don't cast a monotonous pall of dark grey over too long a space, over too long a time.

And if it ever is—covering Haryana, Punjab, parts of Uttar Pradesh, Uttaranchal and Rajasthan—it does not last for more than three or, at the most, four days.

For the rest of the time during the summer monsoons, it is a long, perspiring, insect- and mosquito-ridden, wet, humid environment buzzing with croaking frogs.

The story of colourful cloudy displays at dawns and dusks, and a hide-and-seek between the sun and cottony white bales of clouds during bright noons.

During this first week of monsoon, I wait for our court case hearing at the Supreme Court with as much hope and anticipation as the farmers waiting for the first considerable, sensuous monsoonal lashing of their bodies, homes, hearths and fields.

For all the prospects of a bountiful paddy harvest depend on the uninhibited, unrestrained bursting, as it seems, forgetfulness of the rainy maiden.

I hope.

My hopes are not founded on the shaky, volatile, innocent foundation like that of the weather elements.

Rather, they are firmly jutting out of the concrete columns of law, order and constitutionality.

But for almost three long years, this hope has been belied.

At what cost?

That I won't even dare to estimate or even imagine.

If justice delayed is justice denied, then I think we should no longer be talking of it anymore.

In its place, I should eye some leftover crumbs left on the plate after the great supper—the supper of monopolising the state machinery to topple the cart against the commoners.

But thank God, monsoon has been faithful, even though nothing binds it to its regularity except our hopes and prayers.

Through this period, I hope... I hope two hopes.

I wish two hopes match their colour this year.

Let us see the tail of justice, if not the head of it, on this path washed by monsoonal rains.