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July 17th, 2017

Rain & roses

I’ve been very negligent of this blog these last few weeks, I freely admit.
I start off every day, energised & positive after my early morning run, and once home, I settle down with a coffee and the morning papers and then – wham, just like that –  my mood is gone.

Dunno what’s happening, but there seems to be a pall of doom and gloom over India – well, over the Indian news at least – and starting every day with a diet of rape, corruption and civic woes does get to one, after a while.

Though I am hugely interested in, and motivated by, current affairs, there are times when I simply cannot take any more of the bad stuff.  So tonight I shall chat with you about rain & roses.

So, yes, finally, after many rainless days, we had a crash-bang-wallop of a storm this morning.  Huge amounts of lovely rain, lots of which instantly invaded our house.  In less than 10 minutes, there was water pouring in from the door onto the roof terrace and our verandah was awash – a drain must’ve been blocked.  We quickly moved all the wooden furniture inside & splashed around, mopping everything up, and placing towels against wonky door fittings…

The thing about the monsoons is – and I admit I’m speaking from a position of huge privilege here – is that barring some light flooding like this morning, it is a delight to sit and listen to the rain.  Like so:

I know, I know, that for thousands of people the rains bring nothing but misery.  I know, and that knowledge always takes the edge of the joy of the rain cascading down and everything looking so clean and green…

I splashed my way down the drive to see the state of affairs in the street, and this was the state of play, after – what? – 15 minutes of rain.  I’ll spare you my thoughts on our municipality:

Year after year after year after year, it’s the same old story.

The authorities say all the drains have been de-silted, and then it rains, and everything floods.  There is so much rubbish strewn all over the place, and so much construction with piles of earth left on the roads and non-existent pavements/footpaths, that the minute it rains, everything gets clogged.

Why.  Is.  Nothing.  Ever.  Done.

Tomorrow the papers will fulminate about the flooding, and in a day or do the courts will fulminate about the flooding, and then we’ll all go back to chucking our rubbish, and building over the “nallahs” (natural water-courses, drains) & concrete-ing over the trees, and…and…and…

Yes, sorry, musn’t rant.

Anyway, one positive result of the rain is that the dust that is such a part of Indian life gets washed away, and for a few hours everything looks clean.

Like my roses, which never cease to astonish me.

HOW roses from the hills can cope with Delhi temperatures, I’ll never know, but I love them for it, and am super proud of ’em 🙂

There are about 10 roses currently in bloom, so in the evenings, I potter on my roof terrace admiring them.

A couple had been blown to bits by the storm, but by and large they survived.

I lost quite a lot of my gorgeous “champa” or frangipani, as well, but there you are.

 

Guess what survived the lashing rain and the winds?

Yes.

My lemon.

The famous lemon.

We’re down to single digits now, so this is actually It.

The sole lemon currently sprouting.

But when all is said and done, I’m lucky that my freshly washed plants + some leakage + damp furniture is all we suffered today.

 

1 comment to Rain & roses

  • Sasha

    Your wrote so vividly Christine.. that even the Delhi drain/s couldn’t come between your Roses n Rain! Wow.
    Hope the monsoon brings cheers not just to ur Roses n lemons but to janta(us all) as well with lesser woes of Dengue n Drainage.

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