It rained in Chennai last night. It had to. It has been almost unbearably hot here for a week. By yesterday evening, it felt like the very sky had had enough, what with its bad tempered rumbling and occasional flashes. I philosophically had a second shower, turned on the air conditioning and went to bed. When I woke in the morning, it was to the scent of wet soil and sights of that particular clarity that only a good dousing of rain can give.
The streets were filled with that crisp gray light that is the particular product of a good night's rain. Colours seem brighter, the air feels cleaner. I want to drive a yellow jeep some day, Reader, its rear full of tail-wagging dogs.
They're constructing yet another multistory eyesore nearby. I have nothing against apartment complexes in general, they're only eyesores because these Chennai people often paint their buildings the weirdest colours. I've seen neon green, copper sulphate blue and a pink to rival this:-
I always wonder how petals as delicate as those of the bougainvillea hold up to the battering of the rain. They are translucent and shrivel up at the slightest beam from the sun, but they sit up proudly, wetly, in the rain, dripping raindrops from their tips.
One in every three houses here has a tiny temple built into its outer wall. You never have to go too far here, to pray.
The entrance to the park was blocked by a giant puddle. I executed a rather ungainly hop-skip maneuver to get in, but once I did, it was worth it. The park was almost deserted and I could jog bumblingly along the red paths, trying to count shades of green.
This leaf might have bent submissively under the rain but it was up and cheeky by the time I got there. It waved its long pointy fingers derisively at me, when I climbed up on a park bench to take its picture.
So yes, Reader, I got a new camera for my birthday and I'm going to turn into one of those bloggers for a bit, it looks like. I'm assuming it's a phase. Like all the others, this too shall pass.
The streets were filled with that crisp gray light that is the particular product of a good night's rain. Colours seem brighter, the air feels cleaner. I want to drive a yellow jeep some day, Reader, its rear full of tail-wagging dogs.
They're constructing yet another multistory eyesore nearby. I have nothing against apartment complexes in general, they're only eyesores because these Chennai people often paint their buildings the weirdest colours. I've seen neon green, copper sulphate blue and a pink to rival this:-
I always wonder how petals as delicate as those of the bougainvillea hold up to the battering of the rain. They are translucent and shrivel up at the slightest beam from the sun, but they sit up proudly, wetly, in the rain, dripping raindrops from their tips.
One in every three houses here has a tiny temple built into its outer wall. You never have to go too far here, to pray.
The entrance to the park was blocked by a giant puddle. I executed a rather ungainly hop-skip maneuver to get in, but once I did, it was worth it. The park was almost deserted and I could jog bumblingly along the red paths, trying to count shades of green.
This leaf might have bent submissively under the rain but it was up and cheeky by the time I got there. It waved its long pointy fingers derisively at me, when I climbed up on a park bench to take its picture.
So yes, Reader, I got a new camera for my birthday and I'm going to turn into one of those bloggers for a bit, it looks like. I'm assuming it's a phase. Like all the others, this too shall pass.
