Window to the rain

You know that feeling when the first raindrop hits dry earth and everything smells alive again? That’s Malhar — not just the raga, not just the rain, but an entire emotional wavelength. And this week, Chandigarh’s underpass gallery — the one quietly linking Sector 17 to Rose Garden — turned into a moody, rain-soaked art journal. The Chandigarh Lalit Kala Akademi is behind this exhibition called Malhar, where artists from across the Tricity were asked to do one thing: feel the monsoon, then paint it, print it, shoot it or digitize it. The result? A raw, emotional and occasionally surreal celebration of the most poetic season in India.

It’s a mood

In Indian classical music, Malhar isn’t just a raga; it’s the sound of longing, of clouds gathering somewhere just out of sight. And here’s the thing: that emotional weight? You can feel it in the artworks.

When the crow waits in the rain

Take this piece — a watercolour of a crow sitting under sheets of rain. It’s minimal, almost meditative. The branch it’s perched on flowers anyway, like hope doesn’t wait for dry weather. There’s something strangely comforting about it, like being alone but not lonely. Maybe it’s about waiting. Or maybe about acceptance. Either way, you stand in front of it and just… stop.

Whispering birds, blooming umbrellas

then there’s the woman — shaded under a field of yellow blooms, umbrella open like a wild mustard dream. Birds perch on her shoulder, her chest, even lean in as if to tell her something. It’s surreal, yes, but not alien. She’s not escaping the rain; she’s becoming part of it. It almost reads like a love letter to feminine resilience — quiet, tender, unbothered by the storm.

Psychedelic forest in the downpour

And then — boom — you’re hit with this wild digital work. Glowing mushrooms, fireflies, saturated greens. It’s what the forest must look like if you walked through it mid-rain with a fever dream and no GPS. There’s something magical about how the piece shifts the monsoon from weather to wonder.

What’s beautiful about Malhar is that the Akademi didn’t box the artists in. No format limits. So the space breathes — paintings bleed into photographs, printwork stands beside pixel art. It’s like everyone brought their version of rain and quietly asked you to listen. No umbrellas necessary.

And in a city such as Chandigarh, where symmetry often steals the spotlight, this show feels refreshingly emotional. Like nature finally talked back and the artists were there to jot it down.

Monsoon is a story

So, if you’ve ever texted someone during a thunderstorm just to say “are you seeing this?”, or stared at wet leaves like they were alive, this show’s for you. It’s open till the clouds decide otherwise at the underpass gallery.

On till July 18.

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