Of Malayali rain and sexuality.

Edavapaathi. The advent of the monsoons in the month of July. The spitter spatter of the fresh mud as the droplets hit the ground like long glassy thorns. Edavapaathi sent to cleanse the dirt of our sexuality.

The pomp and pageantry as a new year in school starts, where children go in packed autos skating across wet roads and under multi-coloured umbrellas. So, that they can eventually learn about sex through half naked, fat ladies with blouses on the covers of 'fire' and perverted old men who touch them at inappropriate places in buses and while offering them lifts on their scooters. The most literate state in India.

That sexuality which the average Malayali male so neatly categorises. Mother. Divine. Sister. Divine. Friend. Semi-Divine. Let's think about it once in a while. Stranger. Up for grabs. And so incessantly, the onslaught continues against women and children. In buses. On roads. Breath on their necks. Penises pressing against their clothes. Jackie, they call it. Edavapaathi as their collective anguish evaporates and forms clouds that pour rain continuously throwing up the earth. To emit that fresh earth smell which vaguely reminds you of semen.

The dress laws which forbid women to wear anything which reveals. The etiquette laws which prevent them from acting undignified. And the same laws which allow Shakeela to dance in the rain, wearing a semi-transparent saree so that men can stain the adult theatres in and around Kerala. The land in which once the laws prohibited lower caste women from covering their breasts and against which men led a revolution has now given birth to children who can undress that same cover through their X-ray vision.

"What?" the Mallu moral brigade asks. "We are there." they yell. Frowning upon any sort of mixing and mingling. Teenage relationships and all that because they are not grown up enough for it. They are only grown up enough to fall like flies before predators. The Mallu moral brigade. Strong and dandy. Single women are but an anathema. Bachelors are rapists. Marriage is everything. One little thread and you do what you want with your goods. But, no intercaste, no interreligion. Banned. Banned. The Mallu moral brigade, always ready with a torrent of rumours that wears away even the umbrella of the most well reasoned logic.

Watching. Judging. Teasing. Poking. Watching. Judging. Teasing. Poking.

Avalku Malayalam nerae arinjuuda. Vedi.
Aval lipstick idum. Vedi.
Aval nikkar ittondu irangi. Vedi
Avanum avalum eppozhum orumicha nadakanne. Ithu athu thanne.
Avar kettipidichu. Ithu athu thanne.

The Mallu moral brigade. Superfast like lightning. And so loud like thunder. And so like the rain droplets, always coming in multitudes. And then returning to their homes and cafes to watch high definition porn from the internet. Dreaming their inappropriate dreams and rubbing their inappropriate places.

And the monsoons come in June. Edavapaathi. To clean us of our sins and hypocrisy. It's not just the bad drainage at Thampanoor which causes the flooding. It's just that so much water is required.