Monsoon

So, I went back to the US, had some adventures, and probably visited most of the people who read this journal, so I won't write about them. I had a little bit of trouble getting back to India, but that's because I seem to have forgotten how to count, at least as far as airplanes and dates are concerned. But the results of that were more good than bad, so I'll take it as it is, and now I'm back in India.

The rains took there time getting to Mumbai, but now they are here. When I arrived, there was rain that evening, and a few more times during the week that followed, warm showers that turned the dust on the streets to a slick layer of mud that made its slow way into the gutters and out into the sea. The sea, which previously had been so utterly placid that it seemed strange to look out and not see the next bit of land, had suddenly taken up a healthy show of activity. The waves still didn't crash, but the two person fishing boat no longer made a notable contribution. Then, two days ago, after the solstice, the rain stopped. The skies cleared and the waves sunk back below the tide. The monsoon is late. "What is this, what kind of a monsoon are we having?" people exclaimed.

This afternoon, at around 2, the wind started to pick up. I had been thinking about going out and finding a book, since I've finished all the reading material on my shelves that isn't a math book or the Lonely Planet, but I decided to head up to the roof and see what the clouds were up to first. Huge grey clouds emerged out of the hazy mass to the west and swept past as if in a film played at double speed. Cracks of lightning shot out to the south. It began to rain, lightly.

I sat down with my back to the low wall around the terrace, shielded by the fact that the wind was blowing steadily off the sea. Clouds raced by overhead, and the raindrops grew slowly fatter. Anupam appeared on the terrace as I stood to move under the cover of the hallway, and we stood for a while to watch the growing storm.

As the lightning grew closer, I decided to come downstairs and unplug my computer. The rain kept picking up until it was a full downpour. I stood in the doorway to my balcony and watched the sheets pass by. The area around the entrance to TIFR has poor drainage, and an ankle deep puddle quickly formed. The truck delivering tankfuls of well water to supplement our ration from the dwindling municipal supply splashed through on its way out.

I decided to postpone my book buying adventure. And my plan to go out for dinner. The rain slacked off for a little while, but then started to pick back up at around 6. When I went over to the institute for dinner, the wind had picked up, and was blasting through the open walkway that makes the only opening in the five stories of building facing flat against the sea at gale force. There was at least twice as much water coming out of the sky as I have ever seen before. It has been like that for a few hours now, and the lawns are turning into small lakes.