Smiling in the Rain
September 9, 2009
This morning when I opened the windows of my office, it was raining outside. It was not really a monsoon rain. It wasn’t hot, it wasn’t mad, it wasn’t diluvian. It wasn’t opaque. It was a bitter, cold, patient rain. The sort of rain I grew up with in Lorraine, grey and nasty. I used to hate it. I couldn’t bear the cold, I couldn’t bear the sadness of the sky.
Indians love it – they think the weather of Lorraine is idyllic. I had never understood that. How could one delight in shivering? How could one enjoy being blue, frozen alive by a five-minute walk?
I used to loathe the rajasthani winter, its ruthless nights and painful mornings.
But today when I opened the window and felt the oh so familiar chill of a bitter rain, I thought:
I think I have been in India for too long.