It’s been predicted that this year will have a lot of rain. Surplus they’re calling it. Considering we’ve had a deficit for two consecutive years now, this should be good news. But some sources say, for more than one reason, this may very well be the harshest monsoon we’ve experienced in 22 years. And that worries me. Wildly swinging from the extremes of deficit, two harsh summers, two summer droughts in many parts of the country, and then this kind of rain – something doesn’t fit.
It has been raining for the last three weeks or so. We had a couple of days of heavy downpour when it began at the start of June, and the second very intense wave hit last week. The day I left for Madras, VC tells me the sun was out for all of three hours before it began to pour. And then it. just. didn’t. stop.
Meanwhile videos of the Mayor falling into a creek brimming with excess water and assorted crap (literally) while he took his new de-weeder out for a spin, emerged. Whatsapp jokes about the woes of this kind of incessant rain (that only a fellow west-coaster will relate to) have started doing the rounds.
The evening I arrived from Madras I hit a beach side restaurant in my excitement to see this kind of heavy rain after absolute ages. Thick layers of dark clouds hung around ominously. VC called it a scene out of GoT. I ordered a Rum and Coke, even though I neither love rum nor drink coke anymore, only because the weather just demanded a warm drink. The wind made the protective plastic sheets billow inwards violently. It was beautifully noisy, howling winds, waves crashing and VC and I could barely converse. All plans for a romantic rainy sea side date dashed because we were both cold, and there was no hope of catching up over the storm clamouring just beyond the wall of the restaurant. So we returned home.
I came back from Madras to a home that smelled like wet dogs were trapped in there. I had a fair bit of laundry to be done, but the house was already strewn with half dried laundry in varying stages of musty dryness.
The doors and windows shut tight, with a sheet of rain outside blocking the otherwise uninterrupted view of the building right across the street from me, I had to turn the lights on in the day time. I needed a blanket in the afternoon. I discovered three leaks in my roof. And then I saw a snake yesterday, right outside my gate.
Barely a month into the monsoon, I’ve ticked off most monsoon things already. It’s officially that time of year. This is what 7 days of continuous rain feels like – fluid, mushy and shape-shifting.
This kind of rain makes it impossible to do much except stay put and wait for it to pass. But I’m not complaining. This year, we need the rain.