JaJaJeEv

One of the things I didn’t really think about before we came to India was the seasons. Of course we knew about the monsoon, but I’d naïvely assumed there were still four parts to the year. Not so! As the inside of our (Korean-manufactured) fridge confirms, there are really only three: winter, summer, monsoon; in that order.

It did feel odd having summer (and the holidays) in April and May, before I figured out the geography. The length of the day doesn’t vary much, but being south of the Tropic, that is when the sun is directly above us. By the middle of the year, it’s actually lower in the sky.

Well, after a scorching summer, to muddle my metaphors, this year’s monsoon has been a bit of a wash-out: more like a feeble British summer than a tropical force of nature.

It’s been far drier in all parts of the country than usual (particularly the north), and grain shortages and agricultural problems are manifold and widespread. Actually it’s a very serious deal.

(To re-enact the classic monsoon experience, for us, however, we resort to fountains at the local picnic spot.)

Now we’re in September and the sun is at its zenith again. Who knows what surprises the climate holds in store for us and the rest of this agriculture-dependent nation?