he called, incredulous, its raining cats and dogs here.
nothing here, i said, though the sun had set in orange glory dotted with a million particles ready to burst.
a long train ride and he will be home to a dry village.
maybe like little animals, last night itself, she knew there were cats and dogs lurking in the clouds. and thought of the rain, narmada, the sea, and other things she has not seen.
just as she was dozing off she said, mumma i want to see snow.
white snow. cold snow. nani jo jacket laayi, woh pehnungi.
who told you about snow?
she was too excited about the idea of seeing snow to bother telling me. was it one of the books i read? was it a description given by one of the many people who regale her with stories? i do not know.
so as she drifted off i told her about the time i was little and saw the snow fall. how my mum showed me what fun it is to tilt the head back and put out your tongue.
she stuck her tongue out and asked if it would taste like sugar.
for now let the monsoon spin its magic. and i will teach her not to stick her tongue out for a taste of the bby rains.