MONSOON

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Copyright: Madison Woods

We’re here another week, gathered in a small virtual cafe in a foreign city. Water is the subject as this is a group from the Friday Fictioneers, and we’ll be discussing our original stories for this week. Our hostess for this gathering is the gracious and talented author and artist, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge for us is to write a story with no more than 100 words. It’s supposed to have a beginning, middle, end, and follow the picture prompt for the week. This week’s prompt was supplied Β some years ago by Madison Woods. Thanks again. Madison.

To read the other stories from group members, just click on the little blue frog in the blue box after clicking on the link. The link for the other stories is as follows:

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/05/06/8-may-2015/

Genre: Humor Fiction

Wood Count: 100 Words

MONSOON by P.S. Joshi

Ruth was a teacher, so the only time she could take a trip to India to study yoga at a famous institute, was in summer. “How fascinating,” said family and friends.

Monsoon begins sometime in June and ends in September. The exact day she stepped off the plane, it poured down as though a plug was pulled in a huge tub overhead.

The clogged street drains were still being cleared as monsoon was about two weeks ahead of the forecasted arrival. Ruth stepped from the taxi and waded into the hotel lobby, stringy, dripping hair hanging down.

“Fascinating,” she mumbled.

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53 thoughts on “MONSOON

    • Thanks, Ansumani. Yes, that runoff can be a mess. We live at the top of a hill so don’t have to wade through the water like that. I feel sorry for the guys who have to clean the drains. 😦 — Suzanne

      Liked by 1 person

  1. And that’s why I have NEVER wanted to go to India. My nephew (a math professor) spent six months over there a couple years ago doing research on a Fulbright scholarship. He took his wife and three kids with him. I think his wife was the truly brave one, because the kids were 4, 2, and 5 months. It was very, very rough for them, but they were committed, and they were good at determining what they could take from the experience that was genuinely valuable. I’d say you’ve got the description about perfect, and I love the way your main character faces the reality of a lesson learned the hard way.

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    • Thanks, Sandra. It sounds a bit like the first time we visited India. Our kids were 4 and 2 1/2. We had my husband’s family to help look after them though, and I didn’t have a third child. We’ve lived here since the end of 2000, so I should be able to get it right shouldn’t I. πŸ™‚ Good for your nephew and his wife. πŸ™‚ — Suzanne

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      • Hey, I didn’t even realize that you lived there now. And, most definitely, I would say your descriptions would have to be on the level of an expert.

        I take my hat off to you if you can live there on a regular basis and enjoy it. The challenges of having clean, safe drinking water, apartments that had any degree of air conditioning in the sweltering temps, decent bathroom facilities ,and any kind of laundry facilities were some of the major problems for my nephew’s family. Just acquiring laundry detergent that the baby was not allergic to was a problem. And transportation, of course, since they were not living there long enough to buy and license a car.

        But the one thing that they did appreciate was the people themselves. Almost all of the Indian people treated my nephew’s family very cordially and kindly, and they seemed genuinely taken with the children and wanted to hold and carry them a lot. That’s one of the best memories they will have. And they learned to enjoy a lot of the food as well.

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      • We now live in a flat my husband bought years ago. His mother and brother lived in it for some years. We moved back into it in 2005 after renting other flats. I used to boil water, but now I just buy bottled water by the carton. We hire a cleaning lady and, since my husband broke his hip, a woman caregiver for him 24/7. He’s now 84. We do miss our son and daughter who live and work in the U.S. They come for visits when possible. Our cleaning lady also does the clothes washing. We both get Social Security and can live comfortably on that here.

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      • We live in my husband’s flat he bought years ago. Other family members were living here and moved. We moved into it in 2005 after renting for some years. We used to boil the water to drink, but now just buy bottled water by the carton. I’m 73 and my husband is 84. We hired a cleaning lady who does the clothes washing as well. When my husband broke his hip about a year ago, I hired a 24/7 caregiver. Because we both get Social Security from the U.S., we can live comfortably here. We do miss our son and daughter who live and work in the U.S. They come here when possible, and we keep in contact by computer and phone. πŸ™‚

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    • Thanks, David. What makes the monsoon experience worse in the cities is the plastic rubbish people dump on the ground. It’s gets stuck in the street drains and clogs them up. The people in the country benefit the most because of their rice fields that need it. The monsoon brings needed water to fill the reservoirs, but can cause problems as well. — Suzanne

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      • We’ve gotten a ton of rain here too lately, although no floods yet in this area, at least. It’s a sad irony that some places have floods, while others at the same time have devastating droughts.

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      • We’ve had a couple of pre-monsoon storms so far, and, just like every year, the streets weren’t totally cleared and prepared so there was flooding in spots. It happens every year it seems. The end of this month the monsoon is due to start up the coast from the tip of India. πŸ™‚ It’s now in the Bay of Bengal. I hope the dry part of California gets rain soon.

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  2. I recall when I moved to Singapore. I couldn’t understand why they had concrete canals all over the place, twenty feet square or more in section, with only the merest trickle of water in the bottom. Then it rained and it all made sense.
    Good piece.

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    • Thanks, Mick. They’ve built those concrete canals in Los Angeles in the U.S. also. Residents call them the Los Angeles river. πŸ™‚ They get a lot of rain in January and February. My brother and his wife lived there. I’m so glad you liked the story. πŸ™‚ — Suzanne

      Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks, Rochelle. You’re right. They try to keep track of the monsoon here, but it’s hard to pin it down to the exact day. They start tracking it when it begins at the tip of India, and track it up the coast. It usually reaches here some time in the middle of June. I’m so glad you liked the story. πŸ™‚ — Suzanne

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    • Petrichor.
      That’s the word that describes the smell of rain on dry earth. That’s the fragrance to beat all fragrances. Especially when you a young child who has endured a hot and dry summer. And then it pours and you run out in the rain. Jumping in puddles, raising your face to the sky and getting drenched. Followed by a scolding and a promise to not do that again.
      Actually I do miss the regular monsoon season. And I am glad my kids enjoy their trips to India. There is nothing better than being open to all experiences.

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      • Thanks, Subroto for giving me that special word. I’ve made a note of it. I was raised partly in the country and can smell the rain. Part is probably the petrichor. It’s too bad city people don’t respect the ground and water the way country people do. They need to stop throwing trash on the ground that stops up the drains and causes flooding. The ground and water in the rural areas here is free from trash. It’s great that your children enjoy visiting India. πŸ™‚

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  3. Oh dear, that was poor timing! I’m guessing “fascinating” is not the word she’d choose. Hopefully the yoga will “centre” her and stop her getting annoyed about the weather.

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    • Thanks, Ali. I think she’ll be sure to have her umbrella on hand hereafter. There’s not much she can do about the flooding though. The drains will be cleared after some time. She’ll just have to do a lot of foot washing. πŸ™‚ — Suzanne

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    • Thanks, Bjorn. The monsoon may be messy, but the temperature cools. The hot season comes in the several months before it arrives. We’re in the hot season right now. 😦 — Suzanne

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    • Thanks, Dave. Well, the spigot leads to water, and we’re looking forward to the start of the monsoon next month, and that means water. So it wasn’t really much of a leap of the imagination. I’m so pleased you liked the story. πŸ™‚ — Suzanne

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    • Thanks, Alicia. Actually, you’re partly right as the monsoon means the bugs increase, especially mosquitoes. However, the hottest part of the year is the period of several months just before the monsoon. The monsoon actually cools things down. I’m so glad you liked the story. πŸ™‚ — Suzanne

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    • Thanks, Archon. Actually, the character in the story is not me, but after living here since 2000, I do know quite a lot about the monsoon. It is soggy, but necessary if we’re to continue to have a water supply. I’m so pleased you liked the story. πŸ™‚ — Suzanne

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    • Thanks, Sandra. I never had that exact thing happen to me, but I’ve become wet in the monsoon. I was in a richshaw once and the rain was splashing in. I usually have an umbrella. My husband had to wade home from a shop one day. The drains do become clogged with trash. 😦 — Suzanne

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    • Thanks, Amy. I’m sure she’ll dry out. Of course, she still has to go out in the rain, but will hopefully have an umbrella. I think she’d be better off doing yoga inside during monsoon. I’m so pleased you liked the story. πŸ˜€ — Suzanne

      Liked by 1 person

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