Monsoon

Before the monsoon rains come really hot days. They are unbearable. Amma would look at the sky, heavy and grey, and say, “It’ll rain today.” King coconut water brings some relief, but usually the days are spent with a certain restlessness. You sit in front of the fan, realise it does no good, walk to the veranda, hope for a breeze.

And then finally, like a crack of thunder – and sometimes, accompanied by thunder – the clouds finally surrender and unleash torrential rains upon on us. By then, it’s a relief, even though we know floods await us. Weather warnings will keep the fishermen away from sea. The gloom and doom of a rainy day will only be brightened by umbrellas of all colours.

You feel the cold, the damp in your bones. There’s a dull ache in your joints, and your pace slows. There’s no point in rushing.

That relief you felt when the heat finally let up? It’s gone now. You are impatient for those warm, dry days, when buses didn’t splash muddy water on you and you didn’t have to worry about catching a cold or getting caught to the rain before you got home.

And then, before you know it, the sun is back out and things feel a bit better. You feel like you can breathe properly for the first time in weeks, your stuffy nose all cleared up. You find yourself standing in the middle of the garden, arms stretched out, soaking in the sun. Relief.

But that silly, nuisance of a voice in your mind reminds you of those monsoon days that will soon return, bringing with them the weight of a wet pillow and a heavy heart.

Word of the day: Monsoon

the season during which the southwest wind blows, commonly marked by heavy rains; rainy season.