The monsoon minstrel

The monsoon minstrel strikes his lute, The torrent is on, out pours on and on. He dances round and round - Around the trees and the fields. Gloomy sky rolls like his tangled hair, Tingling anklets or it is pattering leaves! The pathetic tune, pulling everyone out, Renders the eastern breeze dispossessed.

~R.Tagore

The monsoon in Bengal is often referred to as a mad wandering minstrel - you never know what he will do next but once he arrives - he dances and sings around the green mango groves and paddy fields.