The rains are beautiful in Bangalore. A gush of nature’s fury at times, incessant at others, but pitter patter mostly. The power goes off almost immediately and sometimes never returns. I sit in the dark by the window and listen to the relentless tapping on the roof. I can hear a kid reciting his lessons, a flick of a matchstick, and slight traces of an argument next door. The watchman taps his stick on the gate to chase a stray dog away and lights his cigarette. I can smell the tobacco. Somebody has turned on a radio and bits of kannada drift across.
The lights flicker and the sounds increase. There are more conversations and movements. I can smell a burnt out candlewick. The watchman almost trips over a loose stone. My roommate slowly shifts and looks up at the lights. They flicker more intensely and then die out. The watchman kicks the stone and it hits the gate with a mighty clang. The sound reverberates and the apartment is silent once again.
Unrelated Thought: Lovely Song - Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head - B.J. Thomas and Even Lovelier Lyrics.
