Summer Rain

I’m a little late with this post, considering the rain fell last night. Lots of it, at that.

I think it was Khushwant Singh who wrote that you cannot appreciate the beauty of the Indian monsoon until you’ve experienced the Indian summer. While I don’t think last night’s rain was the beginning of the monsoon, you couldn’t appreciate it without having lived through the last two weeks, either!

But isn’t summer rain truly the best? Sometimes it’s in the middle of the night – a veritable deluge after the dry spell – like last night. Mostly it’s the late afternoon – the clouds gather from nowhere and give us a few minutes of warm rain, turning the paths muddy and the trees green, and it ends with the sky turning a brilliant red in sunset – promising an even hotter day tomorrow. Sometimes, very rarely, after a particularly hot spell, it’s hail. In the middle of the afternoon, sudden and swift. Lasting a few minutes, no more. Melted and dried before you gather the courage to go out and look at it.

And the first summer rain is always special. On the football field running around it in the rain and picking our way back into the hostel through the hole in the barbed wire fence. Walking around Connaught Place knowing a client is expected in the office at any time. Standing in the corridor with clothes flying, safe in the knowledge that the students are all back wherever they go after class and the rest of the faculty are having a meeting. Catching the tubby little guard smiling up at me from the ground floor. And today, yellow and red curtains flying in the wind, against my face, the back of my head, as I valiantly ignored them to discuss double taxation avoidance.

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