Monsoon-scape

The monsoon season has started, and has spilled its theatrics across the landscape of our lives.

It has been bucketing down pretty much non-stop for at least 5 days. Floods have killed 3 people around the country already and many homes are flooded and have even been washed away. 100,000 people are displaced! It is the heaviest rain I think I have ever seen, sometimes falling in what appears to be a solid air-shaped chunk rather than in individual droplets.

Thunder and lightning is choreographed across the sky. Sometimes the thunder rolls ontop of thunder, ontop of thunder. Rolling like waves of heavy swelling sound, blanketing the city in bass and rumbling hair, stomach, bones and toes. The lightning, flashes of sharp white against the backdrop of dark grey clouds, momentarily reminds you of the sun you used to know, and then disappears. Peripheral zaps leave static tingles and metallic tastes.

Umbrella-less Sri Lankan men walk through the rain with hankerchieves or plastic bags perfectly covering their scalp, so as not to get a single strand of hair wet, despite their face and clothing being soaked through.

Tuk tuk drivers convince themselves that the inconvenience of driving in the rain warrants a 30% increase in the price for any journey and argue vehemently against any protest.

The bird bath on our balcony is still frequently occupied by pairs of Wag-tails, Sparrows, Houseswifts, Indian Minors and Areoles, ignoring the fact that they are already soaked through and studiously carry on business as usual. Skwarking mobs of crows patrol the now emptier skies, congregating on power lines and amassing upon rooftops as flocks of smaller birds huddle on mango tree branches, out of sight.

And so I hibernate, dreaming of the butternut sunny skies, cocoa skin and refreshing swims in turquiose seas.

Peace xx