The Goddesses of Rain
If there is a Bollywood goddess of rain, then it has to be Sridevi, whose rain dances are an electric combination of desire, feminine joy and pleasure that manages to feel innocent despite the unabashed sensuality in the actor’s performance. Think of Chandni (1989), where Sridevi seduces the audience in ‘Parbat Se Kali Ghata Takrai’ singing, “Paani ne kaisi ye aag lagayi (What kind of fire has this water started)” — a refrain that finds echoes in the timeless ‘Tip Tip Barsa Paani’ which became the most iconic, unapologetic song of female desire. In Lamhe (1991), she’s the picture of graceful abandon in the rain-soaked ecstasy of ‘Megha Re Megha.’ Similarly, in ‘Kate Nahin Kat Te’ from ‘Mr. India’ (1987), she stands in rain that makes her desire as transparent as her blue chiffon sari, proclaiming her love uninhibitedly. In ChaalBaaz (1989), she’s a charmer, steadfast in her refusal to lower her standards for any man, asserting, “Kisi ke haath na aayegi ye ladki (No one will be able to flatter this girl).” It’s not an overtly erotic dance of desire, yet the rain serves as the conduit through which the woman unabashedly expresses her genuine desires.
These performances are technically staged for spectators and the hero, but Sridevi makes this more about her character, adding an interioirity to these frivolous numbers. Academic and author Rachel Dwyer observed these songs defied a singular focus on the “erotic aspects of the wet and the rain,” presenting a sensual experience that transcended mere titillation. An unabashed articulation of female desire, these songs also celebrated freedom. In ‘Megha Re Megha,’ Sridevi declares, “mera kajra dhula re, mera gajra khula re (my kajal has washed away, the flowers in my hair have unfurled),” symbolising the shedding of inhibitions, a transformative moment where the heroine seeks not just physical, but emotional liberation in the downpour.