When the monsoon rains come, the frogs do awaken from their long sleep! They emerge from the ponds and marshes, and they begin to sing! Croak! Croak! Croak! The sound of the frogs filleth the night air with their joyful chorus!

And lo, at the same time, the Brahmins do gather for the great monsoon sacrifice! They don their robes; they kindle the sacred fire; they begin to chant the sacred hymns! They lift up their voices in song, calling upon the gods to grant them blessings and prosperity!

The chanting of the Brahmins soundeth like the croaking of the frogs! Both are rising up together at the appointed time, both are answering the call of the season, both are giving voice to the joy and hope that filleth the world when the rains do come!

The frogs croak in the marshes; the Brahmins chant in the ceremonies. Each in their own place, each in their own way, both are doing what they were born to do!

Some do say that the frogs are mocking the Brahmins—that the croaking soundeth like a parody of the sacred chanting! And perhaps it is true! For the frogs, in their own simple way, do understand the mysteries of the universe just as the Brahmins do! The frogs wait all year long for the rain; they celebrate its coming with all their heart; they sing their joy to the heavens! And is this not as noble and as holy as the sacrifice of the Brahmins?

Perhaps the gods do smile at both the croaking of the frogs and the chanting of the Brahmins! Perhaps in the ears of the divine ones, both sounds are equally precious, equally worthy of honor!

We sing of the frogs, O great ones! We sing of the Brahmins! We sing of the monsoon rains! We sing of the joy and the wonder of a world that is renewed each year by the blessing of the water!

Croak! Croak! Croak! The frogs do sing their eternal song! And we mortals, in our humble way, do add our voices to theirs, joining in the great chorus of gratitude and celebration that riseth up from the earth to heaven!