Rain and Thunder Before Hanuman Jayanti – Coincidence or Message?

Riya Kumari | Apr 13, 2025, 23:05 IST

( Image credit : Times Life Bureau )

So there I was, sipping my very average chai (don’t come at me, it was bagged, not brewed), scrolling through my phone like any responsible adult with a laundry pile the size of Everest. And boom—not a notification, but thunder. The kind that rattles your windowpanes and your sense of cosmic insignificance. Rain followed, obviously. Because nothing says “divine timing” quite like an uninvited monsoon auditioning in April—right before Hanuman Jayanti. Coincidence? Maybe. But also… maybe not?

There are moments that feel like accidents, and then there are moments that feel like they were meant to shake you. Last night was the latter. The rain came without warning. The thunder didn’t ask for permission. Just hours before Hanuman Jayanti, the sky decided it wouldn’t stay silent. And maybe we shouldn’t either. It’s tempting to laugh it off as bad weather or poor timing. But sometimes, life nudges you gently. And sometimes, it roars.

1. What If This Wasn’t Just Rain?

We live in a world that is constantly trying to explain everything away—logic, forecast models, satellite data, probability. But just because we can explain something doesn’t mean we’ve understood it. The rain didn’t fall during the festival. It came before. That pause before celebration. That moment of reflection before ritual. A sort of celestial hush that says—“You’re not just here to light a diya. You’re here to remember.”
We forget that Hanuman isn’t just a figure in a temple or a chapter in a book. He’s a symbol of what we’re all forgetting to be: steady in a shaky world, strong but not hardened, faithful without being blind.

2. The Sky as a Mirror

Have you ever noticed how the weather sometimes mirrors exactly what we’re not admitting to ourselves? Rain brings things down to stillness. It slows traffic, softens sound, interrupts routine. It forces presence. And maybe we needed that. Not a celebration that we rush through between Instagram stories and temple queues, but a moment to sit with it—with what Hanuman actually represents.
His strength wasn’t in breaking mountains—it was in not breaking when others did. His power wasn’t in what he could destroy—but in what he could endure. His greatness wasn’t that he was fearless—but that he knew what was worth fearing. Maybe the thunder wasn’t noise. Maybe it was a reminder.

3. We’ve Made Devotion a Checklist

Let’s be honest. Our prayers are often rushed. Our faith, conditional. Our reverence, seasonal. We remember gods when we want something. We visit temples when we’re desperate. And when life goes well, we call it luck—not grace. Hanuman was the opposite of this kind of remembering. He remembered Ram in every breath, even when no one else did. He didn’t wait for applause, or festivals, or moments when it was convenient.
He served because it was right. Not easy. Not expected. Just… right. So maybe, just maybe, the sky cracking open last night was the universe's way of asking us: What does your faith look like when no one is watching?

4. Not a Coincidence. A Question

Maybe it wasn’t divine timing. Maybe it wasn’t a sign. But what if it was a question? A question about what we’ve lost in our rituals. A question about whether we are truly aligned with the values we claim to celebrate.
A question about whether we’re just reciting shlokas—or if we’re living the truth behind them. Are we strong only in comfort? Or strong like Hanuman—in discomfort, in silence, in storms?

Conclusion:

The world doesn’t need louder prayers. It needs quieter intentions. It needs strength that doesn’t shout, and faith that doesn’t bargain. So yes, the sky roared last night. But not to scare us. To wake us. And now, with the sun rising on Hanuman Jayanti, we get to decide— Are we simply going to observe a festival?
Or are we ready to live what it stands for? Because sometimes, a little thunder before a holy day isn’t chaos. It’s clarity. And it’s asking us to pay attention.