The rain is welcome. The summer is over. Heat has been defeated. I leave home with the kids and stepping out of the air-conditioned house I realise it is raining. Come back home and in a few minutes, the rain dies down, and I take an umbrella (to hold off the drops falling from the line of tamarind trees down the rain, and an occasional shit fall from the herons roosting high in the thin leaves) and ask the kids to follow me down the lane.

There is lightning far up in the clouds and the thunder calls back a second later. Xena is scared and looks around wide eyed. But she follows me as does Zach with his ambling gait. A minute later I see a scared stray, black with a splash of white on his chest, run past. He is not from the area and has obviously been scared away from his by the thunder. I call out to Xena who means to chase him, and he takes off down the street. I scold the girl, and then look up to find him but he has sprinted away.

Halfway back, the rain starts. I thank my brains for they asked me to pick up the umbrella and I trot back to the compound. Xena thinks it’s a game of catch and cook and gallops ahead with Zach on her heels. Of course, Zach is running from the rain, too, just like I do. I come back home, just as the rain begins to form a deluge. The day has been muggy and my partner predicted rain fall by night. Sure enough, here it is.

The whole night sky is filled intermittently with light and the resounding rolls of thunder as the gods fight up in the night sky. Rain falls. I hear the territorial dogs attack and I cringe. The pretty black one (I assume) yelps. I run to the window as does Zach. He owns the territory – in his head, at least. But I cannot spot the black fellow from our window. Lightning doesn’t help. Rain falls in sheets.

The city looks up to the sky, like a thirsty man opening his mouth to a cascading ripple of water. I will not think of the problems today. I will merely look outside the window as I type this, see the cracked edges of a lightning sliver slice the sky, see the black silhouettes of the trees filter the rain onto the lamp bright street and relax.

Morning is here and so are the monsoons.

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