I hate summers. Those bright sunny days with temperatures hovering around the 40 degree Celsius mark drive me nuts. I sincerely believe that temperatures are directly proportional to my crankiness (Boy! Won’t that explain a lot in my life right now!). Makes me dream of rain. Wind and some cool showers (No, we don’t get to see snow in the tropics. *sigh*).
So it was, one long summer day, sitting on the porch at my grandma’s house in a remote village, incessantly brushing away the innumerable flies that found my face so attractive (*sigh again*), eating sweet mangoes, with nothing else to do but while away time (Quite a challenge in the absence of Facebook since my phone and laptop were both dead due to an interminable power cut), I swear time stood still.
And suddenly there was a gust of wind and a drizzle of rain. False hopes, as I soon realized.
And once more it was back to looking at the still trees and willing them to sway. What a sweet world that would be.