Why a Frustrated Frog Is My Meteorologist

Trust the Frog, Not the Forecast

                                                                                                      - Anupama S Mani

In this age of technology, we have rovers on Mars, teachers use plagiarism-checking software for homework, smartphones track our heartbeats, AI invents fake data with absolute confidence. Yet, the moment the skies turn grey, and the first Sawan raindrops fall on our heads, our entire several-thousand crore meteorological infrastructure quietly packs its bags and leaves.

The weather site, with a bright, cheerful sunflower emoji, predicts a hot, humid, sunny day. Outside your window, however, a minor typhoon is currently editing the weather forecast. Strong gusts of wind are howling, rain has lost all sense of direction, your expensive canopy is fighting for its dear life, and one pair of underwear from upper storeys has said goodbye to the clothesline and has embarked on its maiden flight.

Sawan (Shravan) is the peak monsoon period as also the time nature’s zoo takes over as divine weather channel.

Global folklore says if the frogs are croaking loudly, aggressively, rain will definitely come within some time. If you have jumped over water-filled puddles on our roads, you know this sound is not gently persuasive, it is a chaotic boombox.

The frog, whose name I decided was Chhotu, was croaking like the siren of a VIP convoy at 5.30 a.m. I tried to tell Mani not to go cycling, but he did what husbands do, and went off. Ten minutes later, heavens opened up, and the green park opposite our building turned into a pond, and the bell rang. I opened the door, and found an irritated, impatient Mani trying to push the mesh door open with his cycle tires.

If Chhotu is screaming before sunrise, I’d advise golfers to cancel their tee-time, even if that means spending the morning with their wives. Because Chhotu has never lied to me, even if the weather broadcast services have.  

Rain floods the underground buildings some animals so laboriously construct. Naturally then, they have to seek higher, drier ground, which can be your kitchen, bathroom, behind the doors or almirahs or inside your shoes, as our frequent experiences while living in an old railway bungalow had taught us.

Snakes are deeply revered during the holy month of Sawan. But encountering one creates an immediate, comical existential crisis. If you walk into your bathroom and discover a fat rope with a pointed head staring back at you, your first instinct is to scream or squash it i.e., if you are brave.

One voice whispers, “It is sacred, light an agarbatti (incense stick), offer it milk.

The other warns- “Forget the milk! If I run, will it chase me?"   

Most people end up standing on top of a piece of furniture and chanting sankat te Hanuman chhudave (Hanuman protects you from troubles), while the snake looks just as bewildered, perhaps wondering how it has been promoted from a muddy burrow to a palace with tiled floors.

The cobra expected panic. It got a cameraman instead. Senior Railway Accounts Officer K.S. Asla calmly filmed his unexpected bedroom visitor until the snake catcher arrived.

Rural folk are extra-cautious; they forbid you to whistle because it would ‘attract’ a snake.

Another widespread belief is if you notice black ants crazily moving their eggs to higher ground, a storm is impending.

So, the next time you find yourself squatting behind a row of ants, studying their migration trails before deciding whether to dry your laundry outside, you should realise you've started taking weather advice from insects.

Of course, Shravan or no Shravan, animal superstitions do not register unless we recognise the role of the local crows. Folklore says the crow cawing on your balcony or window is a friend warning you of the arrival of unexpected guests. As children, oblivious of the disruption such an arrival would cause in our households, we used to sing

Kavva bol raha hai,

aaj kaun ayega?

Shimle wali mausi ayegi… (The crow is cawing. Who will come today? The aunt from Shimla will come today.)

Our mothers, meanwhile, probably spent the next hour mentally checking the fridge, counting the spare clean towels, and wondering which relative had decided to arrive without warning, just because a sundry bird cleared its throat on the windowsill.  

Most of us have waited for someone to come from the opposite direction after a black cat has crossed our path. But if you are in a village, you may get consolation from the belief that a jackal crossing your path is very auspicious, or so says Nizamuddin, our house help- and my self-appointed advisor on people, their habits, food and life in general.

A Hadith notes that cats are tahir (ritually pure) and even the water a cat has drunk from, can still be used for wudu or ritual ablution. A story goes that the prophet cut off the sleeve of his robe rather than waking his favorite cat, Muezza, who had fallen asleep on it.

The daytime hyper-vigilance by animals is one thing, but the night takes it to a whole new thriller level.

If you feel it doesn’t apply to you, let me tell you even your domestic pets are believed to be clairvoyants.

Elders will tell you a dog raising its head to make that oddly disturbing howling sound is not rehearsing for Indian Idol. They might not see your point that on a wet night, these quadrupeds feeling cold, are merely protesting nature disturbing their sleep cycle.

They would insist that the dogs are seeing supernatural beings or some disaster.

Dogs in rain

The hooting of an owl, however, creates an international theological crisis. Hindu traditions say the bird is the vehicle of Goddess Lakshmi but ancient Romans, native Americans, many Europeans and several other cultures insist owls predict doom. So, when you hear one hooting outside it is you who has to decide whether to expect a windfall or frantically chant the Maha Mritunjaya mantra.

It is much like black horses- Hungarians or Spanish consider them lucky, while the French and Bedouins believe exactly the opposite. Even superstitions cannot agree with themselves.

When nature speaks, we have to decide whether it is giving us an indication of what is to come or just being the comedian.

So, this August, don’t waste time looking up at the sky. Watch the frogs, ants, crows, dogs and snakes instead. They seem to have formed a parallel meteorological department- with louder alerts, better entertainment value, an unhealthy interest in your social life and on some days, a surprisingly better success rate than the weather app.

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