- December 11, 2020
- Posted by: Planet Goa Team
- Category: Feel Goa, Goa-The Sensory Experience, Seasons in Goa, See Goa
As much as I’d like to feign ignorance and hide behind a giant mug of hot chocolate (with maybe a plate of onion pakoras on the side, if you insist) I’m going to have to come out and face the music at some point; we’ve gone and gotten ourselves stuck squat in the middle of the year yet again (seriously, who let it happen this time?!) and one of the consequences of our blatant carelessness is that it’s raining. Again. The monsoon is sort of an annual thing, I know, and believe me when I say that that isn’t my problem with the whole ordeal. The perpetual gloom that descends upon my state like an oddly punctual UFO takes some getting used to and I could definitely live without the whole there- are-mosquitos-everywhere situation that the rains bring along as their plus one but those are minor inconveniences that can be braved when armed with a bucket of optimis and twice the amount of insect repellent.
No, what really gets my goat this time of the year is the insistence of everyone from mainstream media upwards to romanticise what is essentially just an enormous outdoor shower. The thing is, it’s happening on such a large scale that most probably don’t even register it anymore. I’m not as lucky; every time a piece of “precipitation propaganda” (as I like to call it) flashes before my eyes, I feel my stomach turn with disagreement, feel my head spin in dissent.
I need to let it be known that this isn’t just me ranting for the sake of something to do; this is an issue that genuinely frustrates me and I’m tired of going through it all on my own.
Goa in the rain is a magnificent thing, I’m not trying to deny that. Even a slight drizzle can flip the scene around from a dry, wheezing landscape to one that looks like it can’t wait to be explored. The rivers seem to flow with twice the grandeur, the dew drops on neighbours’ overgrown lawns are heavenly to step on, mornings are crisper but also soft and warm, the twilight turns into the quietest swirl of colour you can imagine…
Wait, what was the point I was trying to prove?
Right, the rains aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. Of course. That’s my opinion and I’m sticking to it. So what if July, pink-cheeked and slightly out of breath, is one of the prettiest months of the year? So what if the cliché “everything seems to come to life” starts to apply to your own little village in a way that seems like it was magicked into place? And animals that could only come out of picture books poke their heads out from under your hedge and paper boats whistle merrily to themselves as they bump and bustle past competing pebbles and the clouds, good heavens, the CLOUDS- Sorry, I got a bit carried away towards the end there. What were we talking about, again? Something about government propaganda?
Ah, forget all that for the time being. It’s properly pouring for the first time today and it’s all I can do to wrap this thing up, however loosely, before I hop out for a quick stroll through the rain.