A Rain, A pig and A Lot of Wet People

The ‘Retreating Monsoon’ is a phrase few people inhabiting the northern plains might come across, much less comprehend. And for a southerner from these parts, it would be nothing less than ‘bizarre’ if he encounters pellets fall earthwards during the month of July. Nevertheless, he will welcome it.

Well, this monsoon has taken up many a strange way as compared to its fathers and ancestors. Arriving earlier than usual, it gave the farmers and Met department great hope… Ever since, it has dilly-dallied causing heat waves in the northern half and supplying water to the Coromandel. It was only when the Met Dept said that there will not be rains in Delhi until the fall of June, did the rains respond a week before the ‘due date’ ergo not altering the ‘Met is always wrong’ paradigm.

Insofar as I have ascertained, employing the limited resources and zeal at my disposal, tedium sets in during the wee hours of the evening, at the demise of the afternoon hours. Hence, it was with the noble intentions of allaying boredom that I headed off for the beach at 1700 hours IST – my usual time. Many had failed to arrive that day citing various strange and untellable reasons. I was nevertheless joined by a fellow beach-faithful going by the name of Pramod (hereafter ‘P’ for ease) and another school junior.

Even as I plonked myself on the marble parapet, I stared up heavenwards carefully noting the garrison of grey vertically overhead. “Dude, it’s going to rain,” said P. The other lad seconded him.

“No man,” I reassured. “Don’t you remember tenth geography? Sea breeze, da!”

They nodded conceding to such infallible logic. The clouds would blow deep into land and leave the sands unscathed, bone-dry… I smiled to myself – the wonders of nature and their simple scientific explanations – high pressure to low pressure, presto!

Plop. One of the largest globules I have encountered in my 19 years of existence fell on my wrist. Even the soundest hypotheses have fallen and mine, apparently, didn’t even make the ‘sound’ cut. Anyway, I stood corrected as we ran for cover in a vast stretch of plain shelter-less sand. The nearby Barista had already been taken by people who had anticipated the rain, much unlike the Meteorology Dept. We ran further towards the only fathomable shelter – a food-court ‘Planet Yumm’. Alas, many others had a similar idea and the poor waiters inside were having a tough time finding standing place for themselves!

In a great stroke of luck, under the illumination of a stroke of lightning, I discovered a shed towards the rear of the building. Rushing forth, we were the first to avail sanctuary under the 4 square metres of asbestos. I recall distinctly, saying, “Hey, this looks like a cattle-shed!” Yes, soon enough people aped our feat and sought shelter under the very same 2 by 2. What was worse, they now used me as a barrier between themselves and the splashes off the tarmac! Soon enough, it did resemble a chaotic shed of livestock.

We realized the urgent need to evict the excessive population. It was perforce then, that we set our plan rolling…

For starters, I sneezed loudly enough to wake up the nearby dead at the crematorium. Then the other two were quick to turn away and hold their breath before P yelled, “ENNA DA? (What da?) Don’t sneeze! You’ve got SWINE FLU… There are people around!!”

Oh yes, it eased the crowd out a bit while others threw us dirty looks and whispered among themselves… The ones with an IQs above fifty over hundred stayed on, I guess. However, the rain had concluded its first bout and what lingered on was nothing save puddles, wet sand and the petrichor… Do I love rains or what!