Chennai Rains

 Until a month ago, one of our favourite rant, barring the Covid 19 ones, has been the muggy, sweaty, humid weather we have been facing in Chennai. It gave us a certain pleasure to wring the words out of our mouths and twist them into displeasure and scrunched up faces to make up for the rivulets of sweat running down our backs. When will there be rain? When will this terrible weather leave us? When will I be able to breathe through this thick fog that has taken residence in front of my nose? Some added a few colourful swear words to make up for the utter desolation. 

The dull gray July skies

Looks beautiful, but oh god it was so humid

And now we have rains. Yes, it has been raining since Deepavali. As if regular monsoon wasn't enough to make up for the angst of the few months, the rain gods have showered this depression induced deluge down our throats to silence our ungrateful, wagging tongues. So yes, we are having a superlative weather - if you may call the cloudy sun-less sky and incessant water seeping into the walls of our houses and our audacious minds, that. 

What was I planning to do when that rain I have been waiting since  a few months ago, arrived? Certainly not what I am doing right now when it is pouring cats and dogs outside. Turn my back on it. I can hear the pounding and the near static sound of the rains and feel the chill and dampness seeping into my bones, but 'see' the rains? I haven't much. I have a balcony and three sets of windows giving me a more than elaborate view of the slanting sheet of rains, but this situation has still not translated into me enjoying the rain...not even with the cliched coffee/tea mug in hand. 

The dull, gray skies of monsoon

The rains are a part of the background now. The threat of the low pressure is eminent and the city is gearing up to meet it. Maids have given their own warnings of not turning up if the low pressure did form on 12th. As I type this post, I realize that my back is to the window, where even now the sound of vehicles moving through the water logged streets and the gentle patter of the rains is heard. I can smell the cool, rain soaked air but I cannot 'see' the rain. Each time I check the sky or the surroundings I get the feeling of not seeing the rain drops fall or even hit an object. The swatch of sky I see from my bed is gray and unpainted like a blank, dull canvas. There is no indication that it is raining. The portion of the buildings I see from my balcony are dirty and soak the rains up like greedy pigs, not letting the thick, voluminous mercury like drops to drip down with dancer like grace. The night sky is no different. There is a mist covering the tops of buildings like in a spooky movie, making the rains invisible to a casual glance.

So even though I love watching the rains, this time I find myself in a strange situation of not getting to enjoy it. I find myself thinking of the wonderful rains in Madikeri which was magical and poetic. But which did not motivate me to write so much as a line about it. The opposite of course has happened here - this blog post is a definite indication that my mind works in strange ways.