The heat makes me weary and dull. Washing my face innumerable times, I still can’t distinguish between water and sweat – which appears so quickly.
Even warm winds start to comfort me at this point, but the warmth slowly turns to a soothing cool, gradually turning chilly. The dusty winds push the sun behind the clouds, as if even the sun was tired of the heat. Skies turn from a scorching yellow to a welcome blue – a blue, which for once isn’t gloomy, a glorious blue which stands for delight instead.
And as the first drop of rain falls to the ground, it doesn’t create a puddle, but rises off as steam on touching the ground, as if afraid to face the unforgiving heat captured inside the land. Lazy drops turn to heavy rain, and the world embraces its true colours which were lost till now.
Grasshoppers are always a shade more than just happy. They are euphoric – capering, hopping about in the greens, not caring if they land back on the grass, on a tree, or even on my shoulder.
Hours fly away unnoticed as I stand in the balcony, my eyes following the drops from heavens to the ground. I am enveloped by cozy winds which drive some droplets on to my face, some splattering on my clothes.
But do I mind this little play?
Ah, the monsoons at last!