Monsoon

The Buddha and his disciples used to spend the rainy season meditating in a bamboo grove.  I have a picture in my head of little huts woven from bamboo; monks meditating to the sound of rain falling and the wind rattling the bamboo stalks.  Several times on retreat I've found myself in a meditation room with rain beating down on the roof or windows and imagined those monks.  I love the sound of rain.

We are in India during the monsoon.  The first night we were here the rain woke me up even through the ear plugs I was wearing to block out the other noises of a Bangalore night: dogs barking, motor bike horns, snoring.  It was an amazing rushing sound, interspersed with thunder.

Since then we have watched lightning flicker around the sky (and tried unsuccessfully to capture it on camera) in the city and while staying out in the country; the rain has pounded on the roof of the car and brought traffic to a standstill; we have watched it while drinking tea in a glorified tent by the river at Bheemeshwari.

We wondered if it would stop our scheduled boat trip that time but it passed quite quickly, leaving us slightly damp (some more than others) but cooler and fresher.  It hasn't actually stopped us from doing anything. And I still love the sound...