The haughty sun that blazed down upon the earth for two months found itself in a tight spot for the first time on Friday. It fought feebly with black clouds that kept blotting it out. The dark slabs in the sky marked the much-awaited monsoon's arrival. Still there was no breeze and the trees lined along the Ratu and Bariatu roads hung their heads desolately. The next day the breeze lashed and rain came down pulping, battering and beating Ranchi and bringing relief to the people after several months. The mango, neem, amla and bamboo trees flapped and swayed and the paths got drowned as the rain lashed them. But Ranchi, now turned into a jungle of concrete with high rise buildings dotting it all around, no longer offers a vantage point to watch the bewitching rainbows and clouds on its horizons. These ubiquitous high rises obstruct one's vision and hinder the enjoyment of watching the clouds form captivating shapes. So, I left for the tribal inhabited Purio village on the Ratu road on city's outskirts on Sunday to watch the clouds and rains in their full glory.

The monsoon infuses a new life among the farmers for it gives them what they live on. The way the Purio tribals celebrated the clouds and rains simply mesmerised me. The celebrations were laced with honeyed folk songs. Men, women and children sang nature songs moving to the beats of mandar, nagara and cymbals. They sang in Mundari: "Enderge Jhari manwardi; enderge munkha manchinkhdee/ Arey bhai munkhamala chinkhin khane baman baren; dondomalachabi khane man chinkhen na" This song , which Jitwahan Oraon, Bodhya Oraon, Mano Minj and Mini Minjsang with their eyes set on the velvety cloud laden eastern horizon is based on a dialogue among the clouds, a frog and a water snake.

The cloud asks the frog as to why the latter was not croaking. Then the frog says how could he croak when the water snake was not biting him. Then the cloud asks the snake why he was not biting the frog. The water snake then replies that there was no water in which he could move swiftly.

The song reminded me of Gurudeo Tagore's witty and lucid verse: The flat field said in anger and pain: "I fill the market with fruit and grain/ The mountain sits doing who knows what / Like a great king perched on a throne of rock / Why is God's management so unfair? To me His reasons are not at all clear." "If all," said the mountain, "were flat and even, How could rivers bring manna from heaven?''

Incidentally, as the song ended, heavy rains lashed the village swaying the mango, peepal and bamboo trees and sarna flags fluttering atop the mud houses and filling the fields with water. The villagers set out to sow paddy seeds.

On my return journey through a mud path, which connects Purio with Ratu Road, I pondered how different the lifestyle and mood of the people were only at a 17 kilometer distance. There is a 'Soda Fountain', a bar-cum-restaurant on the Ratu road only two kilometers away from the village. I watched the city people, gulping peg after peg in the bar, oblivious to the rains hitting the parched earth outside. Desolation was written on many face even while on a drinking session. It stood in stark contrast to the joy-de-vivre of the poor tribals singing and dancing in rains, intoxicated by the mood and atmosphere.

Our car wheels got drowned in the rainwater as we reached the main road in Ranch. I heard many abusing the administration for the poor drainage system. Stuck up in the water-logged roads with the heavy rains hitting the streets at about 8 pm, the perplexed commuters were wishing the rains would stop. The same rains they had waited and hoped for two months. I thought of the tribals I met a while ago must still be dancing and singing.

Nalin Verma The Author is the Ranchi based special correspondent of the Telegraph