Smell, Feel, Hear, Taste, See this rain.
Smell. Because you always smell rain first. Petrichor.
Feel it lightly thwacking at my forehead, forearms, balcony railings, pavement.
Hear it set a steady percussive backbeat to our descending flights of stairs
If you smell, you soon thereafter, taste. And everything in India ends up rolling Uber your tastebuds and landing in your lungs.
See it. Through balcony windows at every turn only to stop and cease FULLY as you emerged…as we emerged with you.
And no, Johnny, not for a second, could I stand it. I took it. I had to. But I couldn’t stand it.