Yesterday, I set out dry on an errand that was imperative in its urgency. Cocooned in AC comfort while waiting for a print run to be completed, I was oblivious to what was happening outside. Imagine my horror on being confronted by a torrential downpour and a howling wind, when I opened the door! In the span of just fifteen minutes, the weather had changed dramatically. Courageously clutching my inadequate brolly (I like ‘humble brother’ too!) I braved the rain. Home and bedraggled, I headed for a hot bath and an equally steaming cup of chicken soup. Seated by the window, I watched others struggle against the storm and commiserated.
There is nothing quite like the wet and windy Indian monsoon. I know. I have waded through waist deep murky pools in the concrete jungle and in the real one too. I have trudged through rural sludge and through urban slush. And I have muttered imprecations at the weather gods for picking on hapless me.
But there is a flip side. I have seen the wonder of a firmament lit up end to end by streaks of blazing lightning – a pyrotechnic fantasy, and I have heard the swell of thunder – crashing cymbals and reverberating drum rolls, building up crescendo upon crescendo till the climactic finale. (Yes, I am spellbound by thunder and lightning, and maybe one day, I’ll learn to dance in the rain without protective battle gear!) And I realise that I am but a speck in this great cosmos. But, I am here – an indelible fragment in the history of humankind. To paraphrase Descartes, I experience, therefore I am.