Under the thick cover of cumulous clouds the ground appeared more firm, the soil darker. The sun peeked through occasionally, only to bury itself in the cloudy folds of the overcast sky. Througout the day a cool wind blew. Men climbed on rooftops, repairing leaks with plastic sheets and replacing broken tiles. The Kheda was not its usual self, bustling with activity. Instead, a charged silence hung in the air as if signalling an eminent arrival.
Night came, but the familiar galaxy of stars was smudged by the humidity in the atmosphere. A few drops of cold rain pricked my skin. The drizzle stopped. A few minutes later it started again, this time a bit heavier. We moved the cot inside, all the while tempted by the coolness of the outside air. As soon as the rain stopped we moved the cot out on the veranda.
I suddenly awoke to a heavy rainfall drenching my groggy self. It was 3 am. Grudgingly, we moved the cot back inside. A violent wind periodically whistled outside the warm, dry comfort of our home. I noticed it was getting colder, as my thin dupatta didn't suffice as a blanket.
As I started my day at 6:30 am I was greeted with the same furious wind under the same thick cover. Feeble-branched trees lashed about helplessly, while the light rain rinsed their leaves thick with months of dust.
This village has changed with the weater. The cool wind, the dark, sun-less sky, the chilled drizzle all seem to be sending a message - The monsoon is coming. Get Ready.