My monsoons

May is the hottest month when the unrelenting heat is punctuated by the only pleasure to be had, bouts of mango eating. But one evening in the middle of the month, it rained. The mugginess that had steadily increased over the day meant that my usual jog in the evening was a sweaty affair giving the impression of having been more vigorous than usual. But all of the discomfort melted away as the rain lashed against me, almost painfully. It was obviously a brief affair and the next day the sun returned with its immense, fiery rage to torment us for some more time. But while it lasted, the air was cool and gave a sense of satiation.

A few hours after these showers, my room was suddenly filled with dozens of winged insects fatefully flinging themselves at the fluorescent lamp. Their ancient biological clocks triggered by the unseasonal rain, in a brief hour or so a whole frenzied cycle of life and death was enacted. The resident lizards were probably confused at this unexpected feast, but by the next morning it was all over. The only visible reminders were the hundreds of translucent wings that dappled the wet earth outside my window. Wings shaped to perfection for flight, like the airflows in textbooks that explained streamline flow and lift due to Bernoulli´s principle.

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Himal Southasian
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