Every morning since arriving in Delhi, I have awoken to the sound of thunder. And every morning, after a few moments of being burrowed into my nest of blankets, listening to the roll of the thunder, I realize it’s never actually thunder but some ambitious Indians throwing concrete around or sometimes it is a plane flying close by.
This morning was different though. The thunder, which sounded too authentic to be a boulder, lured me from my bed and to the window where I pushed back the curtain. I was delighted to see little beads of rain clinging to the screen.
Real thunder and real rain washing away the night to make way for the day.