Right, so at least someone was listening when I cribbed about how it felt like summer had made a dramatic comeback. Because suddenly it’s raining like there is no tomorrow. All weekend, I’ve watched it rain. Incessantly.
I suspect its a spill-over from last month. Last months rain, coming in a month too late, basically. How else to you explain a blindingly hot spell that lasted a couple of weeks, with scanty, abysmal, sorry-excuse-for-monsoon rain thrown in, almost like the skies are doing us a favour. Sunshiney, bright and hot days in June? I was confident the monsoon was petering out.
The best (and the worst, if you think about all the flooding in the office, and the mildewed pillows and the laundry that just wouldn’t dry) and the heaviest rain apparently happened when we were in Thailand. Because I came back to precisely two days of awesome rain, before it pulled a Houdini on us. Bad enough I had missed the monsoon awesomeness entirely, it then proceeded to turn so hot, we started using the AC again. Only because waking up in a sweat in the middle of the night, in July is more than I can handle. But its been schizophrenic. With spells of intermittent rain that tease and tantalize. A heavy 10-minute down pour, and its done. For the next three days. WTF, Goa?!
Until last week, when I was beginning to feel cheated of all the lush monsoon glory. The days of incessant clatter, sky-breaking rain and gushing water. The evenings in the balcony, watching glistening skies as they thundered around me. The cozying up under blankets every night and falling asleep to the sound of falling rain. We have had a comeback. And what a comeback it has been. Dark, heavy clouds hanging around all the time, ready to just burst.
When it rains in Goa, it really pours. And its a good excuse to make life come to a semi-standstill. And it resulted in a weekend of largely just vegetating at home. Just the way I wanted it to be. I didn’t curl up with a book, much as I’d have liked to. I didn’t get much writing done, much as I’d have liked to. But I did pamper myself with a weekend of sloth. Lazed around in my boxers al day and let my schedule go haywire. Breakfast at 11 am. Endless cups of coffee. Now shower all day. Yeah, sloth basically.
And a few girlie pleasures, like catching up on and finishing MasterChef Australia, down to some emotional teary goodbyes. Yes, I am that into it. *spoiler alert!! If you haven’t watched the finale and are tracking it on Star World, skip this para!!* A few weeks ago I was so pumped that this season was all about the women! Each one outdoing the other: Audra, Debra, Mindy, Kylie, Julia, Amina — all unique in their own way, and such forces to contend with. The men were mere decorations in the background in comparison, I thought. But man! What a comeback! Can’t say I was displeased with the outcome. I think it was well deserved. And Andy’s growth through the show has been inspiring.
And endless cups of filter coffee and light lunch, while I powered through the show. And later picking up my book late on Saturday night. I’m now reading Falling off the Map, by Pico Iyer, and it has me from the word go. A collection of witty, cheeky essays on the situations the author finds himself while travelling some of the most obscure and lonely places on the planet. Makes me want to take off and go. Starting with Tibet.
There are few joys that compare with losing yourself in a book, so late on a Saturday night that you go to bed with a smile on your face, because you don’t have to wake up at 7 am the next day.
And then, today I caved. Despite my loud claims of staying away from baking for a couple of weeks, I gave in. And made myself an unusual and surprising cake. I have a new found love for what I now call boho-hipster baking. Unusual ingredients, organic produce, making do without eggs or refined sugar. And basically putting a boho spin on everyday things. Non-fuss baking. Just the way I like it.
As if that much sloth and decadence wasn’t enough, we took off for a late lunch today. To a hole in the
wall riverside, where you wouldn’t assume you’d get anything edible. But several cold beers and plates of fried prawns and fried masala fish later, as I sat by the river, wondering when the clouds would burst again, listening to the river lapping by, I realised just how much I cherish weekends like this, when I need it the most. No agenda, no pressure, impromptu plans and peace.
It’s raining again. And I’m trying to grab the most I can from what’s left of the weekend. Listening to the sexy Meesha Shafi take me away in a dark cozy Sunday evening state of mind.
Watching Coke Studio videos has officially become the thing to do on a rainy weekend. It’s so easy to get swept away into another time and place, like Coke Studio does to me. Oblivious, forgetting the velveteen skies creeping in and Sunday night melding into Monday morning. And before long, we will find ourselves right back where we started.