The first rains of the season were here last week. I shook my umbrella out and let the children dash into the classroom well before the bell rang.
Mawsynram – not Cherrapunji
“Thinking of folks in Mawsynram?” I said, smiling to a girl who was looking for a place on the carpet to set her wet umbrella.
She gave me a big smile. The kind of smile that lights up at the recollection of something we had learnt the day before.
The previous day we had started a new unit on water. After learning about what it takes to be an ecologist in Yellowstone National Park, we were setting our sights on water.
“We are going to be hydrologists!” I said, trying to enthuse the class into learning about water. They moaned. I groaned. “Must you kids moan for everything?!”
“Yes!” they chorused. I ignored this and set about infusing enthusiasm into the class. “Today, we’ll go to Mawsynram – the wettest place on the planet. All the way to India!” I said. Though, even as I was saying it, I remembered answering a general knowledge quiz as a girl: “What is the wettest place in the world?” “Cherrapunji!”
Apparently, Cherrapunji relinquished its spot to Mawsynram a few decades ago. A fact that would have been cause for much excitement in the younger me. But these younger ones were waiting for me to go on and I did.
The lesson went on – an interesting article on how folks in Mawsynram clothed themselves in full body raincoats made of bamboo and banana leaves. The children were interested enough by the end, though how much they would retain I would know only later.
A Rainy Day
The day was beautiful. The rains were scheduled for the whole day and I joined the children in peeking out the door every now and then.
“Have you been in a hailstorm?”
“Have you seen a landslide – just with rain?”
“Have you worn a bamboo raincoat?”
Have you this and have you that?
I indulged them as best as I could, enjoying their obvious delight with the rains. I thought they might miss their regular outdoor recess time. But they seemed content to play indoor games and said it was wonderful to sit and watch the rain.
I agreed.
It was magical to watch.
Mawsynram or the Sahara?
When they had to go to lunch, they moaned at being asked to leave the cozy classroom. I laughed, well aware about these trends in enthusiasm.
“Mawsynram not looking so good now, huh?”
The ones who remembered the raincoats made of bamboo and banana leaves lit up.
“I want to make a raincoat with banana leaves.”
“I just want to be a boabab tree in Africa – I never have to drink water again.”
Off they went, chattering in the rains. It looked like they had not listened. But a little rain told me they did.
I smiled.
