Heather’s First “Monsoon” – Humour

Last Friday (Jul 7) I was alone in the flat. Robin’s train to the country for interviews left at the crack of dawn and I had the flat to myself all weekend. I was really excited to be a bit lazy and get some quiet reflection time since my first week and a half had been so hectic. The night before, as you may have read in “But even the Romans had plumbing!,” Robin and I had gone on a night-time jog and returned to find we had no water. So there was a lot to get used to, not just new food, and a new language, but what to do when you twist the faucet and nothing comes out. Thursday night, the eve of my tranquil weekend, my air-conditioning went out, so I made do with sleeping over my covers and turning the ceiling fan on the fastest speed. I had a somewhat troubled sleep because I was not used to the noisy fan or the moving air, so at 7:30am I was thrilled when I was woken up by the promising drip-drop of the monsoon rain outside. Everyone has been talking about the monsoon since I’ve arrived, making jealous jabs about the fortune of Mumbai (Bombay) and the overwhelming flooding and cool-temperatures the monsoons have caused there. In my half-asleep state I became quite excited, and it dawned on me that I should open my bedroom door to my rooftop, so the cool air could circulate in and relieve the staleness in my sticky-hot bedroom. I climbed out of bed, and threw open my door, waiting for the refreshing waft of rain-cooled breeze. I had to rub my eyes for a moment. There was not a cloud in sight and the spicy heat of the morning stirred in my nostrils. I was puzzled. I heard water, but I did not see the monsoon. And then it slowly dawned on me, my brain still a little groggy and confused. The drip-drop was not coming from outside my windows, but from inside of my bathroom. I threw open (yet another door), this time with success; I had found the source of the dripping. My sink was spraying everywhere, and the needle-streams of my shower were spurting water all over the floor. I hadn’t shut the faucets last night when we were out of water; again I twisted things the American way, not the British way (see “Heather Goes the Wrong Way”). Holy cats. I think in that moment I was still trying to make sense of the ramifications of the Mumbai-scale flood that descended upon my bathroom. My feet were being lapped by the waves in the two inch-deep puddle of warm water. As in the squirrel story, I thought about how I was going to communicate this with as much speed as possible to the Hindi help in (again) SHORTS. Finally, I snapped to it and (figuratively) rolled up my sleeves, grabbed my toothbrush cup and began to bail out. I used my bathroom mat as a giant spatula, scooping water into the bathtub and I plunged my cup into the deepest parts of the puddle, throwing cupfuls of water in the general direction of the shower. I was making some progress, and the water level was lowering. The maid was due that day, so the build-up of dust (now murky mud) was considerable, and I, in my fervent scooping, had smeared it all over my face and it was dripping down my elbows. At this very moment, the company driver rang the doorbell. On this particular day, they sent the driver whose English comprehension is dismally low and we both rely on communication through pantomime. Clearly, yelling through the door “you’re early” or “just a minute” would not have done the job. So I rummaged through my bag to find my keys to unlock the front door, smearing my fingerprints and dirty elbows everywhere. I finally opened the front door, and the driver was shocked. His generally half-open eyes popped open as the blonde mud-monster before him motioned for 15 more minutes. I then raced back to the bathroom to finish off my scooping job, tossed my mat on the roof to dry, and rinsed off. I put on a fancy suit in hopes of thwarting any office-rumours that I was a part-time mud wrestler. Boy, what a deluge that was. All things aside, I am still looking forward to the real monsoon, which everyone here assures me will be here any day now…just hopefully outside this time.