The A/C in office was not working – and it was like one of those government offices that they typically show in the serials and movies (a bit more dramatized than they actually are). I thought to myself ‘It’s just March! And it’s not Nagpur or Rajasthan or the Rann of Kuchh!’ I felt swindled.
All through the past year, I had heard that Bangalore is the place to be if u like moderate weather. Neither the winter, nor the summer had appealed to my sense of moderateness. Rains were supposed to be regular and make it difficult to move out of the house. Winters were supposed to make you want to pull out the blankets and go into deep hibernation on weekends. When none of that happened, I started looking forward to the summer.
Moderate summers according to definition are supposed to have a daytime temperature of around 25degrees. That would have made it ideal to ride during the weekends and move out in the sun freely. Some weather to look forward to.
Finally March arrived – and brought with it the regular Indian summer (which I had not been expecting). True – it was cooler than Nagpur, but then whoever had said that the summers in Bangalore were mild was lying according to me.
The trees that had a full bloom – which had colored the roads of Bangalore yellow, lavender and red – were slowly shedding the flowers. It was their desperate last attempt to try to appease Mother Earth so that she’d control her elder child, the Sun, from troubling them for the time being. To no avail.
The Sun continued tormenting, it kept on dancing across the sky raining fury – as if it was cursing the people who had wished it to go away last year and almost succeeded. It was the spoilt brat who knew that he could get almost anything he wanted – he knew his importance too well. And he danced in mockingly.
While I had lunch, wiping my brow and cursing the heat, it was almost as if the Sun smiled wickedly. I gave up hope and started looking forward to one of the hottest summers I had ever witnessed.
Surprisingly, that evening, the heavens were bathed in a soft orange glow. Clouds had gathered around to horizon to wish the Sun goodnight. As the night progressed, the moon played hide and seek among the clouds. Occasionally it bathed the ground with its soft white light, otherwise leaving the city to be illuminated by its own light reflected from the clouds. It was just getting more beautiful. The soft breeze brought with it the fragrance of fresh rain and pushed the clouds to allow the Moon to peek at the Earth and then again disappear. It was the first sign that the parched Earth was quenching its thirst – somewhere, unknown to me. It filled me with a strange happiness. I knew that it won’t rain much (if it did at all). But then, it did not matter. All that mattered was that it would provide much needed respite from the heat. It would wash the trees green, the roads black, would make people want to bunk office and be tucked in bed, would make the more adventurous step out. That it would partially set things right.
And even as I thought all this, the first drop of rain broke gently against me. It was there, to make us smile, to make us happy, to wake us up the next morning with a rhythmic patter. I went to bed, comfortable and smiling. I knew that the next morning would be one of the most beautiful ones I'll wake up to.
And then it rained…..
