Just as it began to get warm, I woke up the other day thinking of how we haven’t had a typical Bangalore shower in a long time. I was away for all of December, most of January and I’m not sure if it has rained this year at all, but it certainly hasn’t since my coming back.
I should have guessed there was something odd about the way in which things warmed up suddenly, between one day and the next. It didn’t feel natural, real.
And lo and behold. It rained last evening. Came down as suddenly as the heat did. I was so sure it was that typical Bangalore shower that comes with great gusto, makes a huge fuss and noise and passes really quickly. But it persisted and gradually turned into a massive downpour that lasted about an hour.
I am relieved that the dust might settle. The entire fucking city — this is not even a slight exaggeration — is a giant construction site at the moment, and there is dust everywhere. No amount of dusting within the home is cutting it and the situation outside is seriously killing my mojo of wanting to get out. But here I am. in that strange place that only Bangaloreans understand. Feeling glad for the rain, enjoying the petrichor (I still strongly detest that word and how easily it gets thrown about on days like this. Chill people you’re smelling the DUST not the earth.) and also feeling massively frustrated for the almost immediate traffuckery that follows. It takes absolutely nothing for rain-induced chaos to set in. Literally just a matter of minutes.
One year ago: Tarot: On resilience
Two years ago: Like seeing sunlight
Three years ago: Stop this train, I want to get off and go home again