Today morning, as I opened the balcony door to dry my towel at 7:45, I did a double take at the weather. It was cloudy, but humid, like one would expect it to be during the months of June and July, when the monsoon hasn’t completely set in…and the summer hasn’t completely gone off.
This was predicted. One of the days this week was going to see rain, and the glorious Monday was chosen. After a useless and tiring day, this is exactly what I needed.
I actually didn’t believe that it was going to rain. Bengaluru is so full of false promises that I stopped believing in the forecasts. When the forecast says cloudy, I know that the Sun is going make use of all the day time and tune up his brightness to the maximum (so that the plants get more sunlight for photosynthesis and provide you with energy, says Sunny). Bengaluru is a sadist like that.
In the late evening, I stepped outside my house to buy some envelopes. I stood outside the shop, skipping the three steps like I was a child again, and let the cool and humid wind take my thoughts away as far as it can wander. The sky was cloudy; the only way to tell is by looking at the sky and deciphering the colour of it. If it is a clear night, the sky will look dark blue, like the blue one could get lost in. And maybe, a few wisps of silvery-grey clouds here and there. If it has any signs of rain, the sky looks like a mixture of purple-pink-orange-red in wild proportions. That colour is hard to get on paper.
I watched the first rain of Bengaluru as it washed away the dust on our car, and until the ground was no longer dotted with wetness.
Picture credits to my best girl friend, Divya!