I was hoping to catch the first of the monsoon showers in Goa before I left. But that was not to be. Even though every morning for the last many weeks the skies have been overcast, clouds casting gentle shadows over us and thereby tempering the effects of what is otherwise a punishing summer, it was not meant to be. If reading skies is anything to go by, one would have been so sure the rains would have made landfall around now just a whisker ahead of what is typical.
All I got was tantalising greys, heavy clouds hanging around and just passing by, a hope that rain is on the way. But not quite.
So much teasing, that this was the sky at 4pm last evening as I drove back home. It drove home the point about perfection in timing for me. So I chuckled to myself and promised to be back in time to catch the rain. The full flourish of it mid-season if not the baby beginnings.
This morning however, I woke up at 4 am to the pleasantest breeze. And when we drove out to the airport, as the sun was cracking up the doors and making a reluctant appearance, I realised the roads were wet. All the way thru. We raced over puddles and the smell of just rained on earth was potent.
I didn’t really get exactly what I wanted, but what I did was lovely. And it was a good way to say goodbye for now.