Ah, monsoon! The seasonal damp winds that carry heavy rains to this part of the world. It may be pretty eerie living in such territory: in steep, sloping mountainsides and hills, encircled and crisscrossed by six thousand plus turbulent rivers and streams swollen by torrential monsoon rains. Such is the difficult topography of Nepal that the advent of the rainy season ineluctably carries with it a great deal of apprehension.
Monsoon! It's a nearly fourmonth-long annual topic in Nepali households: it was dry yesterday, there is a downpour today, and it may just be spitting tomorrow. Or, compared to last year's monsoon, it is lacking in vigour, or bizarrely, it seems to stretch even into October.
Credit, the same scapegoat: global warming! As such, it's rare for a single topic to last for months, except for wishywashy political disputations, needless to say.
Unsurprisingly, when this grand weather event is round the corner, people in Nepal tend to say, often with a long and subdued sigh, barkha laaagyo, or literally, here lands the monsoon. In this profound sigh dwells a myriad of emotions, as if to signal that something consequential - good or bad - was in the making and would unleash itself with the swift onset of the wet season.
On a sad note, depending on a particular geographical situation, the 'sigh' may connote the fears of landslides and disastrous floods. Again, on a gloomy note, bringing home the bacon becomes way more arduous during monsoon, and it should not sound hyperbolic that many families resort to a missa-mill scheme.
Likewise, mosquito-borne diseases and cholera are just a few of many 'monsoon time' threats.
On a happier note, the long sigh also implies 'life' in that monsoon sustains the lion's share of rain-fed agriculture in Nepal, especially rice farming. This semi-aquatic crop that feeds a teeming lot agrees swimmingly with waterlogged lands only, hence requiring consistent irrigation between its plantation and ripening/ maturity. The monsoon supplies that water for irrigation across the country.
Definitely, monsoon has its pros and cons. While it may cause mayhem someplace else, it may cheer up people elsewhere, thanks to its shower and the refreshing air it carries with it. Another typical 'monsoon feature' in Nepal countryside used to be ubiquitous 'irrigation squabbles' among farmers. Petty squabbles over irrigation issues, or kulo ko jhagada, even led to physical assault. Now that large swathes of arable lands in Nepal go barren because of greener pastures abroad, such petulant bickering seldom occurs. However, the thunderous monsoon rains continue to bicker, as usual.
A version of this article appears in the print on August 1, 2022, of The Himalayan Times.
