This monsoon hasn’t been as fierce as previous years, maybe I missed the best of it whilst I was in England. I’ve been waiting for electricity to shatter the sky followed by the tumultuous clap of thunder, but this calmer monsoon has a subtle beauty. Even though this isn’t an angry monsoon, when it does rain, it pours.
You can sense when rain is near. The air changes, the wind wakes up and people congregate on their roofs to let the cool air dance around them, dampening the heavy humidity. The wind also brings the swollen navy blue clouds together, eclipsing the sun, as if confusing time.
Large egrets fly elegantly across the sky, necks curled into their body. They fly independently, in the same direction. I wonder if they have a destination or are simply following the wind. I don’t know whether they take flight just before rain arrives, or that they just are more noticeable now, their pristine white feathers on the canvas of deep lapis lazuli clouds.
The rain hits the ground and the petrichor rises from the thirsty earth with a sigh. The rain falls, gradually draining the colour from the sky so the sun can breathe again. Our baby, completely mesmerised by his first monsoon rains, fell silent. The falling water reflected in the infinite pools of his eyes, absorbing the monsoon rain like the once dry ground below.
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