Monsoon Quotes

“Rain clouds come floating in, not to muddy my days ahead, but to make me calm, happy and hopeful.”
― rajuda

“A man follows the path laid out for him. He does his duty to God and his King. He does what he must do, not what pleases him. God's truth, boy, what kind of world would this be if every man did what pleased him alone? Who would plough the fields and reap the harvest, if every man had the right to say, 'I don't want to do that.' In this world there is a place for every man, but every man must know his place.”
― Wilbur Smith, Monsoon

“the woman is rain,
and when she falls,
she is a monsoon.
to love her is to drown.”
― AVA., you are safe here.

“Love comes and goes so fast! It comes like a tropical storm and it goes like the wind in winter”
― Aditia Rinaldi

“The monsoons were the real thing; they dissolved things to the bone.”
― Anjum Hasan, The Cosmopolitans

“Shortly before the monsoon, the heat becomes very intense. It is said that the more intense it becomes the more abundantly it will draw down the rains, so one wants it to be as hot as can be. And by that time one has accepted it -- not got used to but accepted; and moreover, too worn-out to fight against it, one submits to it and endures.”
― Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, Heat and Dust

“হিজলের বনে, ফুলের আখরে, লিখিয়া রঙিন চিঠি,
নিরালা বাদলে ভাসাইয়া দিয়াছে, না জানি কোন দিঠি।”
― Jasim Uddin, ধানখেত

“If people were seasons, she'd be monsoon. After every downpour, the garden laughed like her, wild and free.”
― Meeta Ahluwalia

“मेघ गर्जना—
घनप्रिया के संग
इन्द्रधनुष ।”
― Manish Kumar Shrivastva, Prakash : Ek Dyuti

“The monsoons had cooled down the temperature and a thick blanket, folded into a perfect rectangle, lay at the foot of my bed. Grandma must have come to inspect the settings a hundred times, being a perfectionist. Her love was evident in every little thing that was present in the house. It was soothing to be back in the house. Something unwounded from within, the moment I entered it.”
― Preethi Venugopala

“To know India and her peoples, one has to know the monsoon. one has to know the monsoon. It is not enough to read about it in books, or see it on the cinema screen, or hear someone talk about it. It has to be a personal experience because nothing short of living through it can fully convey all it means to a people for whom it is not only the source of life, but also their most exciting impact with nature.”
― Khushwant Singh, I Shall Not Hear the Nightingale

“What the four seasons of the year mean to the European, the one season of the monsoon means to the Indian. It is preceded by desolation; it brings with it hopes of spring; it has the fullness of summer and the fulfillment of autumn all in one.”
― Khushwant Singh, I Shall Not Hear the Nightingale

“Why are the desert blooms that spring to life after a monsoon so magnificent? The answer is – their impermanence. The lush growth and blooming flowers do not last very long here in the desert, and this new growth only happens once a year. If this growth was never-ending, we would soon take it for granted. Likewise, our human lives. What makes them so special and unique? Our fleeting impermanence.”
― Alaric Hutchinson, Living Peace: Essential Teachings For Enriching Life

“It was as if the curtains came down on all this, if not entirely obliterated it, when the monsoon rose up in the thunderous clouds from the parched valley below to engulf the hills, invade them with the opaque mist in which a pine tree or a mountain top appeared only intermittently, and then unleashed a downpour that brought Ravi's rambling to a halt and confined him to the house for days at a time, deafened by the rain drumming on the rooftop and cascading down the gutters and through the spouts to rush downhill in torrents.”
― Anita Desai, The Artist of Disappearance: Three Novelas

“Jungle rain had no beginning or end; it grew like foliage from the sky, branching and arching to the earth, sometimes in solid thickets entangling the islands, and other times, in tendrils of blue mist curling out of coastal clouds. The jungle breathed an eternal green that fevered men until they dripped sweat the way rubbery jungle leaves dripped the monsoon rain.”
― Leslie Marmon Silko, Ceremony

“My heart screams to get drenched in the magical rain but here I am stuck by my window inhaling the petrichor smell. The cosmos is dancing in joy as monsoon has touched the sky like a mighty sage and nature is all set to party like never before, as this time humans are caged.”
― Nayana Phukan

“এদিকে দিগন্তে যতদূর চাহি, পাংশু মেঘের জাল-
পায়ে জড়াইয়া পথে দাড়ায়েছে, আজিকার মহাকাল।”
― Jasim Uddin, ধানখেত

“When I wake, it seems a little less hot than usual, so I’m worried I have a fever until light flashes behind the curtains and the sound of a detonation rolls in with a force that makes the windows rattle. As I step outside with a plastic bag over my cast, a stiff breeze pulls my hair away from my face, and I see the pregnant clouds of the monsoon hanging low over the city.
The rains have finally decided to come.
I sit down on the lawn, resting my back against the wall of the house, and light an aitch I’ve waited a long time to smoke. Suddenly the air is still and the trees are silent, and I can hear laughter from my neighbor’s servant quarters. A bicycle bell sounds in the street, reminding me of the green Sohrab I had as a child. Then the wind returns, bringing the smell of wet soil and a pair of orange parrots that swoop down to take shelter in the lower branches of the banyan tree, where they glow in the shadows.”
― Mohsin Hamid, Moth Smoke

“We pretend
the monsoon
has come early.

In the distance
bombs
explode like thunder,
slashes
lighten the sky,
gunfire
falls like rain.

Distant
yet within ears,
within eyes.

Not that far away
after all.”
― Thanhha Lai, Inside Out & Back Again

“এসো করো স্নান নবধারাজলে— বলবে কে আর?
শহরে বৃষ্টি জলকাদামাখা নোংরা দেদার,
গীতবিতানের শুকনো পাতায় বর্ষার গান
রবীন্দ্রনাথ একলা ভেজেন, আমাকে ভেজান।

নীপবন নেই, শহরে রয়েছে কড়া নলবন
সিরিয়ালে দেখা হিরো-হিরোইন সাজানো দুজন,
পেডাল নৌকো শহুরে লেকের প্রমোদতরী
এসো হে আষাঢ়, ছাতায় তোমায় বরণ করি!”
― Kabir Suman

“Everything in the house turned damp; the blue fur of mildew crept furtively over any object left standing for the briefest length of time: shoes, bags, boxes, it consumed them all. The sheets on the bed were clammy when he got between them at night, and the darkness rang with the strident cacophony of the big tree crickets that had been waiting for this, their season.”
― Anita Desai, The Artist of Disappearance: Three Novelas

“A raindrop strikes the lawn, sending up a tiny plume of dust. Others follow, a barrage of dusty explosions bursting all around me. The leaves of the banyan tree rebound from their impact. The parrots disappear from sight. In the distance, the clouds seem to reach down to touch the earth. And then a curtain of water falls quietly and shatters across the city with a terrifying roar, drenching me instantly. I hear the hot concrete of the driveway hissing, turning rain back into steam, and I smell the dead grass that lies under the dirt of the lawn.
I fill my mouth with water, gritty at first, then pure and clean, and roll into a ball with my face pressed against my knees, sucking on a hailstone, shivering as wet cloth sticks to my body. Heavy drops beat their beat on my back and I rock slowly, my thoughts silenced by the violence of the storm, gasping in the sudden, unexpected cold.”
― Mohsin Hamid, Moth Smoke

“It's fifteen hundred miles to Ankh-Morpork,‘ he said. "We've got three hundred and sixty-three elephants, fifty carts of forage, the monsoon's about to break and we're wearing... we're wearing... sort of things, like glass, only dark... dark glass things on our eyes...”
― Terry Pratchett, Moving Pictures

“The monsoon had finally come, blowing all rational thought asunder. It was a living thing—a monster from a child’s nightmare, a seething black mountain range of cumulonimbus crawling with giant electric spiders, a dark and angry spirit snorting fire. I stood naked in the deluge, drinking in the cool darkness until the darkness overtook me.”
― Tod A, Banging the Monkey

“Creatures from the damp earth emerged from their homes in the ground, slithering
away on the damp overgrown grass, onto the stairs, the patio and squirming their way into the house. Survival, it was, risking
being squashed underfoot over being drowned in their homes.
Earthworms, snails, small snakes, insects. Life survived seasons and inundations, and poured itself out onto higher ground.”
― Kiran Manral, More Things in Heaven and Earth

“Searching in an ancient rain-fed lake in northern India, paleoclimatologists using radiocarbon dating have discovered that 4,100 years ago, the summer monsoons began a rapid decline. They did not return to normal for two centuries.

For an unimaginable two hundred years, the Harappan region saw hardly any rain. Around the same time in China, Egypt, and Mesopotamia, the three other earliest-known civilizations also were lost to the dry sands of history.”
― Cynthia Barnett, Rain: A Natural and Cultural History

“Vagabond Poet (Sonnet)

Bi' gün değil, bugün,
bugün yaşamalı,
bugün parlamalı,
bugün uyanmalı,
bugün yürümeli.

Wear your wounds like crown,
not tomorrow, but today.
In front of your thunderous resolve,
intimidating clouds all fade away.

Where lips don't speak, eyes do -
where eyes don't speak, backbone do.
And once backbone has spoken, all the
militaries cannot render it untrue.

Poetry, my nationality,
words, my brethren.
To the world I'm monsoon,
for inside I'm barren.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Azad Earth Army: When The World Cries Blood

“I’ll meet you in the woods, after the first monsoon rain.”
― Bhuwan Thapaliya

“The sky longed to meet the earth, and he thus extended his moist fingers towards her. And when she experienced his touch, after countless agonising days of being parched, she quivered in ecstasy, unable to stop the petrichor from finding release.
Peacocks raised their beautiful plumage to acknowledge the cosmic lovers. It rained gently but it rained for long. It was not an angry, punishing deluge, but a smooth, free-flowing release of the pent-up emotions of long-separated lovers—these emotions say, ‘Do not stop. Let it flow.”
― Shabbeer Ahmed, Djinns & Kings: The Curse of Zoa

“She arrives with the first thunder—
hair wet with sky,
eyes holding storms
no one has named. I offer her tea.
She drinks the rain instead.
The cup trembles
in my hands
like a secret
I was never meant to keep”
― Avijeet Das, A Handful of Shuilis