Nyumvula

When we arrived in the ancient desert city of Jaiselmer, in the Western part of Rajastan near the Pakistan border, our "paying guest house scheme" host told us that it had been four years since the last monsoon rains had soaked this parched land. That was yesterday.

As I was laying under our room's ceiling fan this afternoon, taking a mid-day break from the searing heat, I heard that unmistakable sound. Raindrops hitting the street. We jumped to the window and sure enough a downpour had begun. Only an hour beforehand, I told Paramode that my wife's second middle name "Nyumvula" means "rain" to her father's people in Kenya. He seemed skeptical, but I told him about all the times Anita has brought rain...her birth, her thirtieth, our wedding night, etc. When we dashed up the house's interior stairwell to the roof deck Paramode was there. I told him, "I told you so" and he smiled from ear to ear.

It's now an hour later and it's still a downpour outside. Jaiselmer is splashing with joy!