I am a master in India

Chapter 295 Rain

The most remarkable season in Mumbai is the rainy season. Experienced Marathi locals can sense the approaching rain days in advance.

"It's going to rain!" the children downstairs shouted as they ran.

"Are we getting off here already?" a passerby asked in surprise.

Yes, that's it, Mumbaiers are all too familiar with this smell.

It has always been this way since childhood. Thunder will rumble for four days in a row, and people will look up at the gray sky, panting heavily along with the animals in the scorching and humid air.

Suddenly the wind picked up, swirling up the dormant sand and blowing it away.

"This summer is hotter and longer than ever before."

Although people have said this every year since last year, it is an old tradition of late summer and early autumn.

This kind of weather is more suitable for playing football, hopscotch, and marbles.

The long, hot summer is not a good time to play cricket. The children listlessly swing their paddles, waiting idly for the weather to cool down.

The small appliance store downstairs has started stocking new products again, with the words "rice cooker" and "juicer" written on a small blackboard. It's a Sulp brand.

Passersby stopped to watch, as everyone knew that this brand of appliances was known for its high quality and low price.

Sure enough, the figures of 1200 rupees and 600 rupees piqued people's interest even more.

After several years of opening up and development, Mumbai's economy has become very dynamic, and ordinary people have begun to enjoy the benefits of the times.

Along with the government's intention to devalue the rupee to stimulate international trade, people's incomes have increased significantly.

Even the most ordinary workers in garment factories now earn more than two thousand rupees a month.

They still live in slums with apartment buildings, but they are more ambitious about enjoying life than before.

They had only heard of high-end appliances like rice cookers but had never seen them; they thought they were things only wealthy people used.

It is said that as long as it is plugged in, fragrant basmati rice will be cooked automatically. Women no longer need to stand by the clay pot and constantly monitor the heat.

The corners of the room were so stained with coal ash that their original color was no longer visible, and even the cabinets and bedside tables were not spared.

If we can have this for cooking in the future, then they won't have to crawl on the ground anymore, wiping away the extremely difficult-to-clean grease.

People gathered in front of the shop, chattering about whether this thing was really as magical as the legends said.

The shop owner was too lazy to explain to each of the neighbors, so he simply brought over a sample machine and started cooking fragrant rice on the spot.

Add rice, add water, then flick the middle finger, and everyone burst into laughter.

The shop owner blushed as he explained that this was the secret technology of the Sulph rice cooker, making cooking rice incredibly simple.

More and more people gathered to watch the spectacle, and everyone seemed unhurried, like dark clouds slowly gathering in the sky.

Lately, the clouds have been gathering thicker each day, sometimes turning into dense, dark clouds. Birds are flapping their wings rapidly, as if trying to escape before the storm.

The children, dressed in their old clothes, came to the yard and the street, waiting and hoping. They soon lost patience, chasing and playing with each other, teasing their small and not very agile playmates.

They also played pranks by puncturing car tires, writing nonsensical doggerel on the walls of the girls' school, and listening to the old lady next door muttering, "It's going to rain, it's going to rain."

But the rain didn't come. Farmers were on high alert, and the government was on high alert, given the worrying weather forecasts in the newspapers.

The girls' school's green lawn had withered and people were not allowed to step on it, but the children insisted on sneaking into the school and playing hockey in the flower beds that the school staff had carefully maintained, crushing the delicate seedlings under their feet.

The sea was also languid, as if it were about to fall asleep, and desperately needed a heavy rain to awaken its surging vitality.

While the adults gathered around the electronics store to watch the excitement, the mischievous children went to the shallows to try their hand at catching small fish and shrimp that had been left behind in the crevices of the rocks when the tide went out.

The city is facing a severe water shortage, and the water pipes are completely empty.

There was no water to wash their bodies, nor to wash their dirty clothes, and even drinking water became a problem.

Water trucks arrived one by one from the inland, and servants lined up in long queues carrying buckets, paying exorbitant fees to fetch the salty and bitter water.

However, they were inevitably careless, and before they could bring the water home, they spilled half of it on the way, which was quickly absorbed by the parched earth. Naturally, the mistress of the house scolded them for this.

Mumbai desperately needs the rainy season; many people dream of it.

At night, weary people dream of rivers and waterfalls. They watch the blizzard in Ksenia in the cinema, and the heroine's sari getting soaked in the rain as she dances.

They gazed at the endless stream of water falling from the sky on the screen, whether it was snowmelt or rainwater, whether it was natural or man-made. Their gaze was so greedy, and they were so silent.

They bought cassette tapes containing the sounds of crashing waves and babbling brooks, and only gradually fell asleep while listening to the clear, tinkling sound of mountain springs.

Until today, you know a storm is coming, and you can smell it coming from the sea.

The wind picked up and the sandstorm became more powerful, as if all the dust in the world had risen into the air and poured in through the open window.

The children playing downstairs stopped playing, covered their mouths, and closed their eyes.

Dust seeped into their hair and into their eyes. They had never hated summer as much as they did now. They were drenched in sweat all day and could not bear even a second of the sweltering heat.

The clouds overhead surged rapidly, as if two armies were clashing in the heavens and intelligence was flying everywhere. The sky turned bluish-black, like the blue neck of Shiva who had swallowed poison.

"The fragrant rice is ready! The fragrant rice is ready!"

With a loud thud, the shop owner shouted loudly.

The adults turned their gaze away from the sky above and gathered around the plump rice cooker. After a thick cloud of steam rose, long, white, and translucent grains of fragrant rice appeared, dazzling to the eye.

"Wow! It smells so good!" People couldn't help but sniff.

Even the children playing in the street were drawn over, drawn by the aroma of the food.

"Come and have a taste!" The shop owner wrapped some rice in banana leaves and handed it to the crowd.

Everyone blew on the rice, then clumsily pinched it and stuffed it into their mouths.

"Delicious!" Smacking sounds erupted.

"1200 rupees, cheap, right? Imported goods cost 1800! This is from the Suer factory, a well-known brand!"

The shop owner took the opportunity to promote the product, and many women were tempted because the price was really not expensive.

Some people have a Sulp brand TV at home, which is just as durable and reliable.

To boost sales, the shop owner innovatively introduced combination sets.

"Buy a Suer brand rice cooker and juicer together and get a free set of kitchen utensils! Juicer, now is the perfect time to buy."

It's going to rain soon, and the fruit we can't finish will rot and mold. With a juicer, we can make juice and store it in a clay cellar.

The squeezed pulp can be made into snacks for kids—it's cheap!

Fruits in South India are so cheap they're practically free; every household can afford a variety of tropical fruits.

However, storage is a big problem, especially since Mumbai summers are humid and hot.

Women want to buy juicers not only because they can make juice, but also because many Indian dishes require chopped fruit pulp as an ingredient.

A small juicer costs only 600 rupees, while a foreign one costs 1000 rupees. Not only is it cheap, but it can also make drinks and food, and has many uses.

Some people came up to bargain, while others asked if they could get a discount on a Sulp rice cooker and an electric fan, since they didn't need a juicer.

After the shop owner agreed to give him a 10% discount on the electric fan, the man immediately took out his money with great delight.

The shop was crowded with people when suddenly, the first drop of rain fell, as fine as a hair, almost imperceptible.

People didn't pay much attention, assuming it was just children playing in the water.

The leaves rustled, and the branches shook violently in the wind. The wind lashed against the doors and windows in a bad mood, and the sound of shattering glass could be heard intermittently. The birds flew anxiously towards their nests built under the eaves of the building; they knew it was not an illusion.

A few more raindrops fell at the same time, and this time everyone understood. The maids and ladies rushed to the window and quickly gathered up the clothes.

"It's going to rain, and the factory will lose power. Buy now before it's all gone!" The shop owner spread rumors.

Impatient people couldn't resist the temptation, so they took out their money, grabbed the packaging box, and ran back home.

A massive bolt of lightning tore through the sky, followed by a deafening rumble of thunder that seemed to strike the very core of the earth.

However, this was not thunder, but cheers from millions of children, because finally, finally! The torrential rain arrived as promised.

You've been sweating for so long, your body is so thirsty for its nourishment. You, like the cow and the crow, sensed its approach long ago, and now it has finally arrived.

Your parents taught you not to stand outside when the first rain falls, but you wouldn't listen, and their scolding didn't work.

The first rain is black, carrying all the dust and pollutants in the atmosphere. Getting wet in it will make you sick, but you don't care.

Children all over the world came out, dancing and gesturing in the rain-soaked streets, parking lots, and along irrigation ditches.

Traffic also yields to the children, because the unruly kids have the unstoppable rainy season to back them up.

Large raindrops pelted down, trapping you in the overwhelming rain. All you could see, near and far, was water.

This is the power of the rainy season; it uses rainwater to build walls and to create the world.

Lightning illuminated the sky and vanished in an instant. You looked up to catch the rain, washing away the summer heat.

Rain falls into your eyes, your nose, your mouth, washing away all sins and sorrows.

You'll sleep especially soundly tonight because the first rain of summer has come early, and there are still a full fifteen days until school starts.

The shop owner sighed as he looked at the rain. Unlike the children's excitement, he only felt annoyed.

Rain is affecting business, making it difficult to source goods, and trucks with tarpaulins are hard to find.

He turned and went into the store to make a phone call, wanting to order another batch of goods from the distributor.

Since it was his first time selling appliances like rice cookers and juicers, he only ordered twenty units, which have just been sold out.

While Mumbai was engulfed in a world of rain, Ron had already set foot on the soil of Tamil.

He loved the vibrant energy of Madras, a style completely different from the skyscrapers of Mumbai. It also lacked the pretentious, aloof Westernism of New Delhi.

Madras offers the conveniences of a city, yet remains approachable; it's a city with a southern flair that makes you feel at ease.

Of course, there are great differences between races. Ron, a tall and fair-skinned Aryan, stood out among a group of short and dark-skinned Dravidians.

Kavia recognized him immediately; he stood out like a crane among chickens in the airport terminal.

(End of this chapter)