The rain always brings special memories of my childhood and college days. It was a family tradition to welcome the first monsoon shower by stepping outside and literally dancing in the rain. The first rain showers were the sign of the end of the summer. I still remember the scent of the first rain, the petrichor, and wonder if you can still smell it now that there are fewer trees and more pollution where I grew up.
Although shopping for a new pair of gumboots was the highlight of the monsoon fashion season, often the water level on the streets was high enough to fill them and make them useless. Walking home from school involved several stops to take off the gum-boots and empty out the water. This was made harder by the fact that we had to carry our schoolbags on the top of our head so the books did not touch the water. Any challenges that the rain brought was quickly forgotten with a steaming cup of tea and the delicious pakoras. I still make, or at least dream of making pakoras when it rains.
The rain could be full of surprises, too. I took the train to south Bombay on my way to an interview, and got soaking wet because I was too close to the door. I enjoyed every minute of it, and knew that the interviewers would understand if I showed up in wet clothes. Well, it was sunny and dry at the destination, but the hospital I went to was kind enough to give me some towels to dry up, and scrubs to wear to the interview.
And there was the trip to Pune with my PT classmates! Wading through the water with suitcases on our heads, not thinking for a minute that the train to Pune would most likely be canceled. Fighting our way on to one of the few trains that was not canceled. And breathing a sigh of relief when it was only drizzling in Pune, not pouring as it was in Bombay.
My first rain in Chicago was very different. I wanted to go out and enjoy it, but it was April and a very cold 45 degrees Fahrenheit outside. I sat at the window and stared at the rain for hours, wishing to be consumed by the fragrance of the first rain.
I miss that rain. I don't miss the floods, and the challenges, but I have fond memories of those. Warm or cold, a drizzle or a thunderstorm, I absolutely love the rain!
Although shopping for a new pair of gumboots was the highlight of the monsoon fashion season, often the water level on the streets was high enough to fill them and make them useless. Walking home from school involved several stops to take off the gum-boots and empty out the water. This was made harder by the fact that we had to carry our schoolbags on the top of our head so the books did not touch the water. Any challenges that the rain brought was quickly forgotten with a steaming cup of tea and the delicious pakoras. I still make, or at least dream of making pakoras when it rains.
The rain could be full of surprises, too. I took the train to south Bombay on my way to an interview, and got soaking wet because I was too close to the door. I enjoyed every minute of it, and knew that the interviewers would understand if I showed up in wet clothes. Well, it was sunny and dry at the destination, but the hospital I went to was kind enough to give me some towels to dry up, and scrubs to wear to the interview.
And there was the trip to Pune with my PT classmates! Wading through the water with suitcases on our heads, not thinking for a minute that the train to Pune would most likely be canceled. Fighting our way on to one of the few trains that was not canceled. And breathing a sigh of relief when it was only drizzling in Pune, not pouring as it was in Bombay.
My first rain in Chicago was very different. I wanted to go out and enjoy it, but it was April and a very cold 45 degrees Fahrenheit outside. I sat at the window and stared at the rain for hours, wishing to be consumed by the fragrance of the first rain.
I miss that rain. I don't miss the floods, and the challenges, but I have fond memories of those. Warm or cold, a drizzle or a thunderstorm, I absolutely love the rain!
