All night the rains came and they haven’t left: 6:35 A.M.
After a big dinner of lamb, boiled rice, dal, curried vegetables, followed by sweet goop, I read very briefly about Shah Jahan and was asleep by nine.
It’s as if we are in a cloud. The tops of the apple trees are visible, but otherwise it’s a white palate. Fitting given the task at hand of writing all morning.
Clothes on the railing of the upstairs verandah, left to dry, and wetter than ever now.
If the monkeys come in the storm, and I reckon they will, I wonder: Yellow raincoats, galoshes, tiny umbrellas? Or will Hanuman protect them?