We moved to Bombay during the 2012 rainy season, as is fashion each year during this time, all looked to the looming clouds that dissipated as the morning wore on. And then all complained at the woeful rain this year. Every year, worse than the last. Obviously there are only two seasons in Bombay, hot and rainy . I think though I was wrong, the two seasons are “HOT” & “HOT and RAINY”. The rain is but an extension of the ONE TRUE SEASON! SUMMER! So when Wikipedia tries to sell the horseshit that Bombay has four distinct seasons I find it difficult not to sputter in disbelief and faint dead away.
And then there was the oddity of this past monsoon. The rain that never quite started and suddenly began…torrents flooding the JVLR. I had a random guest over that evening, flying out on the day of the hardest rain. He took an auto finally, and lost a flip-flop on the way to the airport. [Hi Amit! (if you’re reading)].
Seriously though, can farmers ever catch a break? The rain, ceaseless through Ganpati visarjan and again, October, the result of an absurd cyclone barreling through Bombay, trashed their planting season. My sister-in-law, on a four day respite, and I were caught unaware on our way to Mahesh Lunch Home by the Leela. We sat in the evening rush as the rain came down, petrichor and sweat mingling in the muck. So the October heat that never was, gave away to the 2 weeks of the Bombay winter.
My 3 pairs of socks, one pair of yoga pants, 2 shawls and a hand me down (darned) sweater; all saved for these two weeks. When I spoke to my daughter, already in the States, she used to cackle. “Oh Mom! You’ll never be able to handle it.”
This was super true, I wasn’t ready, it was evident when the near full suitcases of gossamer dresses and shorts were laid out before me as we landed into Newark, the Northeast in a deep freeze. The ocean froze. THE OCEAN. I posted stupefied updates to Facebook and Instagram…frozen ocean! The end is near.
But as I sit here, schools open again after a much needed snow day for the children, shooing them out of the house, I think maybe the end was not near. In my 17 million layers of sweats and boot socks, cozy and warm, clutching my gargantuan mug of Earl Grey, I can so totally handle this!