This picture was taken last Sunday by Anand who was visiting from the weekend. It is the view outside my balcony and even though it’s been a week since then, nothing has changed. The rain continues to beat down. And I’m slowly reaching that point where I begin to wonder just how much rain are the skies holding back? If we complained of a weak monsoon through June and July, August showed us that a Goan monsoon won’t ever let us down that bad. Today, the 1st of September it doesn’t seem to want to slow down.
I love it when Goa gets rainy and everything turns an almost neon green. Bright, lush and just beaming with freshness. The rain patters on. The laundry (yes no rain post is complete without a mention of my laundry) continues to be damp. My annual monsoon eczema is out of control. The AC duct in my room turns into a perfect little rivulet every time the rain gets heavy (which this past week, has been all the time). My slippers have given way. I slipped in the moss thanks to the rain. Perhaps everything that could go wrong and get to me, has happened. But I’m loving it.
It’s hard not to, when you wake up every morning to misty morning and you can’t see much through the veil of raindrops that fills your balcony. When your day begins with steamy showers and your morning is dotted with endless cups of ginger chai. When you discover rainy music and your day feels like I ought to be spent by a window, book in hand.
Some days are just meant to be photographed. And every day last week was that kind of day.
In a time when the rest of the world is busy prosecuting mass murderers, digging up histories of communal horror, unearthing one horrific scam after another, telling tales of poverty, hunger,deprivation and the like, sometimes it’s nice to just escape into a cocoon. Sometimes the craziness of everything in the news gets to me. The mind boggles at the thought of where we’re headed as a nation. Just how much will things plummet before it begins to look up again?
I often feel tired and helpless. Wronged and enraged. And my immediate reaction is to retract. To feel a sense of listlessness. At times like these when human beings cannot be depended upon it only feels right to reach out to my immediate environment. For solace and comfort. At those times I feel at home in Goa.