Bangladeshi storm

I love a good Bangladeshi storm. The boom in the air! The sense of awe in the power of a lightning strike. The chaotic, swirling build-up. The stifling, oppressive air. The darkness.

I love the feeling after the storm has passed; the air now lighter and purer. It smells fresher. Everything is calm and rejuvenated.

The life of the Bengali people, physically or spiritually is consistently inundated by the monsoon rain. During the monsoon a Bengali heart resonates with the water deluge, and mine started as well.

Bring it on, I think. Rage as you will. We’ll breathe easier when you’ve finished raging.

Oreo, the diplodog is terrified of storms. Always sensitive to sound, he cannot take the claps of thunder here. His anxiety has swollen now that to the extent that during one of the nights I rolled over and found him on my pillow. He never ever climbs higher than my feet. But now it's different, he just wants to escape from something that is everywhere.