Summer Tempest

As we waited for the bus, I contemplated the long walk back to my house in the village with some anxiety. Rain was in the forecast and I hoped that it was not imminent but I could already hear the rumble of the approaching storm. When the bus finally arrived and my friend got in, I waved him goodbye and quickly set off  toward my home.

The village was set back about a mile from the main road. To reach it, I had to take the dirt road that cut a meandering path through the paddy fields. I usually enjoyed the walk between the main road and the village using this road. But it was different today. The sky was getting darker by the minute and the sound of thunder closer. I increased my pace and hoped that I would beat the rain. But the wind had picked up now and I seemed to be losing ground steadily. I looked across the fields to the village. I debated if instead of taking the dirt road, I should trot across the field which would be shorter.

Normally, a walk across paddy fields would not be easy for a city-bred person like me. The fields would be water-logged and you would have to walk on the narrow bunds that crisscrossed the fields. You shared this path with other people and the occasional goats. Any misstep would land your feet squarely in the slush. But it was the middle of summer and planting season was still weeks away. The field was completely dry and I decided to cut across through the open fields.

The sky now looked ominous and a blinding streak of lightning flashed close by. My hopes of outrunning the storm were dashed in spectacular fashion as it overtook me within about two minutes. It started with a bang. The rain came down not in a gentle sort of way, but in sheets. Each drop, if you could isolate it, would have filled a cup. I suddenly wished I was in the city. In the city, you could crowd under the shelter at the bus stand or dive into a cafe easily and wait it out. But out in the country, in the middle of these fields, there was no escape.

I was totally enveloped in the storm now. It was too dangerous to hold an umbrella given all the lightning. The umbrella had a steel shaft and would have formed a perfect lightning rod. I threw the umbrella to the ground. I could not even see where I was headed. If I lost my way, I could miss the village and end up in the river. So I just stood my ground. Just then, the rain seemed to get even heavier which I did not think was possible. By now, I was in a panic. I crouched low trying to keep myself close to the ground so that I would not be hit by lightning. I was soaked to the bones. The field was turning into a pond and my clothes were becoming muddy. The frequent flashes of lightning were followed by the sound of thunderclaps that rose above the already deafening roar of the rain. I was petrified and earnestly wished for the rain to stop.

Then it stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The bank of clouds started to move away along with the sound of thunder. I heaved a huge sigh of relief and resumed my now weary walk to the village. When I reached home, I was exhausted and a nervous wreck. I was feeling cold and sick and wanted to throw up. I had always been thrilled by the sound of summer storms. But being out in the open field in an electric storm was one scary experience.

As I looked outside, the sun was already coming out again. Everything looked fresh and cheerful. Little birds were perched on the electric wires overhead flapping their wings to get dry. The sound of thunder was a distant echo now and no longer invoked fear.