Coming from England, I know a lot about rain. It rains so much in the U.K., and it’s usually a miserable, bitter and cold type of rain which strings your face. Dreary, I think that is a good way to describe English rain.
Indian rain on the other hand, there are not many things on Earth which are more delicious to the senses than Indian rain! It’s spectacular and dramatic, fierce and romantic, refreshing and warm. During a storm, I love to open all the windows, watch the lightning shatter the sky and feel the thunder shake my body.
Summer is coming to Nagpur and the nights are getting stuffy and the sun is getting heavier. I waited until five o’clock to take Alfonso for his afternoon walk today, avoiding the height of the heat. As I stepped out of the building, I saw the clouds had turned grey and could hear thunder in the distance. “I hope it rains”, I said to Alfonso. Several breaths later, the grey clouds broke and large round drops fell on to the dusty road.
If I were in England, I would turn back and go home, but this is India. Rain is exciting! Thunder rumbled forward, a lightning flash filled the sky, the playful screams of children running for cover, the rain falling steadily. The deep smell of the dry Earth cooling, the warm rain touching my face, the air full of electricity. I love Indian rain, I chose the perfect moment to leave the apartment, I love today.
Alfonso wasn’t such a fan of Indian rain, he didn’t find it romantic at all. He pulled me back towards our building, so we went home…
I’m dreading the blistering summer Nagpur is famous for and starting to brew, I’m already dreaming of that first monsoon rain which marks the end of those harsh summer months (the only down side to Indian rain is, it brings those pesky mosquitoes!). I thought that little storm, which only lasted a couple of minutes, was beautiful. Alfonso, not impressed.
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