Delhi (where I live) has been reeling under a heatwave for weeks now, and the monsoon that we were told would arrive “the earliest ever!!” has faffed around and is now scheduled to be “the latest ever!!”
This morning I headed out to my local park in brutal heat and 81% humidity, and prepared myself for a slow plod. Too hot to run.
Those of you who follow me on Instagram will have seen my story this morning, where I posted a video of an overcast sky and hoped aloud that it might eventually rain.
Was I prescient, or what?
Less than 30 seconds after I entered the park it started drizzling and within about 2 minutes it was absolutely belting it down.
Yet again, I realised how far I have journeyed from my native Yorkshire as I REVELLED in the torrential downpour and speeded up to a full-blown run, splashing through the puddles that were forming before my very eyes.
Everyone I passed in the park was smiling – such is the delight we all feel in that first blissful monsoon downpour. Later, of course, it gets humid and waterlogged, but for that first magical downpour, we don’t think about things like that!
The rain was so heavy that I decided it was foolish to keep on running, not because of the rain per se – I was already drenched through and through – but because of the risk of slipping and falling. So I stopped, put my phone and headphones inside my running backpack, and since my glasses were so streaked with rain athat I couldn’t see through them, I took ’em off and put them in the pocket of my backpack.
Effectively as blind as a bat now, I walked slowly towards the gate.
Out of instinct, after about 1/2 km I checked my pocket.
So there I was, in a virtually empty park in torrential rain and with no option but to retrace my steps hoping to find my specs – when I could hardly see. I stopped at each puddle and tentatively felt in them, but the rain was so heavy and rivulets were forming that I had visions of my specs floating away, never to be found.
I passed a lady who said she would hand them in if she found them, and then kindly asked whether I needed helping back to the gate.
But I had to continue The Search.
I met a young man running, so I explained my problem and he said that yes, of course, he would hand them in if he found them.
2 men caught stripping off their sodden T shirts so they could enjoy the downpour (no comment) rather sheepishly promised to hand in my specs if they found them.
I walked the length of the track twice in vain, then rather despairingly continued on to the gate.
2 guards and a walker sheltering in the guard hut.
I explain my problem and then ask the bloke to dial hubby, since I can’t see the screen.
OK, he says, give me the number and I’ll try on my phone.
Both guards kindly try their phones. No signal, so clearly I was gonna have to brave the flooded streets and find my way home.
And boy oh boy was the road outside the park flooded. Garbage floating in filthy looking water kinda flooded.
Took shelter under a lean-to, and there was a bloke checking his phone.
No, he didn’t have a signal either…oh wait, hang on, yes, now there’s a signal…yes, of course you can borrow my phone…oh, OK, I’ll dial for you (he looked at me rather askance when I said I couldn’t see a damn thing).
Eventually The Husband was contacted and he rocked up with my spare specs.
Now I could actually see, so off I set yet again with Basant Bahadur in tow, determined to find my specs.
We walked slowly up and down the track 4 times – and I’d already done it twice, remember – but ne’er a sign of my poor specs. The 2 T-shirt-less blokes, plus the man who had been sheltering, kindly joined in and the 5 of us walked slowly, checking the verges and feeling our way through puddles.
Basant was convinced they’d been swept away, and we’d decided to call it a day, when lo and behold, in the middle of the track where we had already walked 4 times (6 in my case) were my glasses! Muddy, with bits of leaf and twig smeared all over them, but unbroken, unscratched and just sitting there, waiting for someone to walk on them.
About 2 minutes later, one of the park gardeners puttered by on his scooter. He’d have crushed them, that’s for sure.
I thanked St.Anthony (my go-to saint for lost objects) and St.Jude (Patron Saint of Hopeless Causes), and smiled at the 2 baby jackals that dashed out of the bushes, saw us, and dashed back inside.
Then I did a bit of a rain dance to celebrate saving all that money on new specs 😛 😛
All in a day’s run, dear reader. All in a day’s run 🙂