It’s been pouring for a few days.

Rain is much friendlier here than it is in Boston or New York. I would always feel a sense of dread in Boston when I’d wake up to grey outside, and drippiness. Rain boots would have to be involved, and strategic planning on how to not get cold and wet and cranky. Because that’s the whole problem with rain over there; it’s cold.

It also doesn’t know how, in Boston, to pour the way it does here. Rain where your hand blurs when you hold it out in front of your face. Where you can feel the sound of it in the tips of your fingers and toes.

Not to say it isn’t problematic here, when it rains nonstop for days and days. Flooding.

But here’s what’s good, here’s why I love it. I was out in the rain a few days ago, safe in the car, watching, at the Kakoli intersection. The intersection was completely flooded, worst where the road meets the sidewalk. People splashing through water ankle-deep in some places, knee-deep in others, to clamber onto already overflowing buses. Umbrellas held open for – the psychological effect of having an umbrella open when it’s raining, I suppose? Everybody who was out, everyone I could see, absolutely, completely soaked.

I tried to find a single person who didn’t have a grin on their face, just one. The people trying to get on the buses, or the rickshawalas, or the young, fancily dressed girls who were clearly on their way to some nice event. Couldn’t do it. Every single person I saw was smiling. Every one!

And that’s why I love it when it rains. Ain’t nobody fazed, not ever.


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