Without getting into the whole climate emergency debate: what has happened to the monsoon? A couple of weeks ago I, and others, assumed it had arrived. Heralded as usual with a good deal of thunder and a lightning display. That was a Friday night. Sure enough the next day, deluge. By that Saturday evening, I was like “I’m over the monsoon now”. Someone must have been listening as next day, dry as a bone. Pretty dry all the way to the following Saturday. With little rain since, I’m prompted to wonder—what has happened to the monsoon?
Meantime, over in Europe I am sure they are asking the same question: Where is the rain? Temperatures have reached over 40 degrees in France. Unheard of. In fact, it is now ‘official’—June 2019 is the hottest June on record. Hottest ever—not just in France, but globally. Now if that doesn’t point to something being wrong, what does? We have seen temperatures in India reach the high 40s and cities—not just rural communities but whole cities—running out of water. Which makes me rethink my complaints about it being 33C in Kathmandu and at one point last month (in June no less) having no water at home for three days.
The sky gets dark, clouds roll in. Daily I look up and think, here it comes. My weather App predicts thunder storms on an hourly basis, and every day. And yet nothing happens. What has happened to the monsoon?
It was only a couple of months back when I was saying—what has happened to the summer? Winter seemed to go on f-o-r-e-v-e-r and spring never did put in an appearance. Now as the temperature in my apartment hardly come down below 26 or 27, I’m thinking back fondly to the days of wearing a sweater as I wrote this column!
Many homes in Kathmandu have fans. Some even have air-conditioning. I must admit I love my local café which, despite being on the expensive side, has heat in the winter and glorious a/c in the summer! I’ve been surprised by the number of friends who are installing a/c in their homes this year. Ordinary people looking for relief from the heat. And yet some bars and restaurants still decline to install even a fan.
Do they think we will buy more beer because we are hot? More likely, in my case anyway, I will leave half-way through the evening feeling quite ill with the heat. Or completely boycott the place. Last week I was in an open air restaurant in Patan for a music event. They had huge fans going—enough to keep everyone cool. In fact one could say it was particularly ‘breezy’ in that courtyard! But rather that than the alternative.
The last two Fridays and Saturdays saw heavy monsoon-like downpours. But it was only heavy rain. Despite me describing the downpours as “Niagara Falls” it was not the monsoon. Now it is a whole month late. What has happened to the monsoon?
I learn that women in the Tarai are praying to the rain gods. Desperate to get on with planting rice to feed their families for the rest of the year. Goodness knows what people across the border in India are feeling as they stare into empty wells and at dry taps. Let’s hope by the time you are reading this, in the middle of July, the monsoon will have made its full-strength appearance.
In the meantime, has anyone else noticed: the rain seems to cascade in torrents mostly on Fridays and Saturdays? A rain god perhaps that only works at the weekend! Could this be Nepal’s seventh season—Weekend Monsoon?
