Very odd. November rain.
The morning was beautiful. It was cloudy and lovely all day. It got uncharacteristically dark and quiet for an early November day. Then in the afternoon, the rain came. Thick, cold drops. A vestige of the monsoon, long gone.
I have always had something of a fondness for the rain, though after coming to Pune, it has kind of worn off. If you have not seen a monsoon in Goa, you don't know what you're missing. Here, now especially, its just a burden to try to get to work dry. But watching it from my room, which does indeed have a lovely view, it still stirs some emotion in me.
For me, rain has always signified prosperity, or a boon. Its always beautiful, really. It replenishes the earth, and brings with it a dark, solemn beauty. The foreboding gray and violent calm before the storm breaks; then the restless, angry blowing wind will pick up dust, and finally the torrent of rain, sheets of needles coming down and feeding the thirsty earth below.
So I'll take it as a good sign of things ahead. And the sunset at the end was magnificent. The sky was ragged with clouds, but off at the horizon, it kind of opened up a bit, and it burned with a sheer golden fire, as if the sky was winking out at us, just as the sun set past that little gap. Glorious.
Here comes the rain baby, here comes the rain...