The smell of rain on a warm summer night is chocolate to my soul. The anticipation, built up by dramatic winds and swirling dust is accentuated by the crazy banging of open doors and windows. It starts with a few drops gently caressing my window sill, flowing down the wall, soon to be joined by their precipitated brothers to form a congress of puddles.
It feels good. The cathartic properties of water are compounded on a tiring, hot Indian day. My most memorable rain moment was in Mumbai last year, during the Monsoon season. The city was flooded and most of the roads were inaccessible. That didn't stop the kids down the road from my hotel. I witnessed a rather wet game of water-polo-soccer, if you could call it that. Children have a way of making the most out of unfortunate situations. The rain - it washed away their shoes and they trudged home with bare feet and broad smiles. I lost a fantastic photo op, my camera had just run out of battery.
