clouds in my coffee

On my morning walk I usually see a fit woman in her fifties dressed in casual salwar kameez sitting on the low wall of the jogging path surrounded by five street children. She usually has book in her lap and the kids sit on worn oriental throw rugs she has laid out for them. They scribble/doodle on pieces of papers they hold against the wall or the ground, tongues hooked over their upper lips, eyebrows furrowed, furiously writing something. The little crowd is usually packing up by the time I see them on most mornings.

This morning the woman was standing on the rugs and many kids were sitting on the wall. They were having a ‘school day’. The kids were taking turns reading aloud their English compositions. The only adults in the crowd, besides the teacher, were her sometimes assistant, and a grandfather. The kids were cheering each other on and, as I walked by, I overheard a young boy. His chest puffed out, his head held high, “I am ten year old. I live Bandra….” I was tempted to sit and listen to them, but I kept going. On my way back they had all finished their speeches and the teacher was serving them home-cooked treats for their little school day celebration.

Today was especially lovely weather. I love to watch storms roll in from the sea. The storm isn’t quite upon us yet, but it’s so close.

Many people have told me that monsoon is dreadful. People have monsoon clothes- clothes you can throw away at the end of the season. The rats and every other creature, normally hidden, come out. Cars roll in huge puddles and splash you with watery sewage. I have been told to buy some plastic shoes to wear for the season. That I should wear open shoes otherwise when my feet get wet inside of you shoes, they won’t dry adequately in an ac office and I’ll end up with foot fungus or worse.

Part of me wants to think, “They’re exaggerating. They’re still reeling from last year’s floods.” But, even those who are more prone to understatement have said to me, “Are you sure u don’t want to go home or to you granny’s for the season? Monsoon will make you cry.”

I prefer cold to hot and snow to rain. I got through the hot, so let’s see how I get through the rain.