In New York, the downpours come in brief bursts of thunderous skies, flashes of lightening and continuous buckets of plummeting water. And then, as though it had never occured, the storms pass suddenly to reveal blue skies and bright sunshine.
So most sensible people, when they notice a thunderstorm, hunker down for an hour or so till it passes. The Don Quixote's like me, on the other hand, prefer to face the storms valiantly, only to get soaked in the process.
Which brings me to my first point - I got caught in a downpour yesterday, but can't afford to complain, being as it was a product of my own quixoticness. Halfway through my way home, I was wading through water above my ankles.
Instantly, it took me back to the Bombay monsoons of my childhood. Sitting at the window ledge watching the rain pouring down in sheets of blind whiteness; waiting to hear whether school was closed for the day because of the floods; my mum packing Rohinton and me off to play in the floods in our little dinghy boat; and of course, the electric flashes of lightening and thunder.
If you haven't got soaked in a summer downpour before, I would totally recommend it. It fills your heart with a fresh and happy (and washed out?) feeling. And fills your wellies with water. All fun and games.
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