June 24 was the first day of monsoon mist. All the birds fell silent as the mist climbed the hills. The author calls the mist melancholy because not only does it conceal the hills, it blankets them in silence too.
On June 25, there was some genuine early monsoon rain. It was warm and humid, contrary to the cold high-altitude weather that the author had been experiencing all year. It s seemed to the author that the plants knew it too, and the first cobra lily reared its head from the ferns. He described the weather as ‘a paradise that might have been’.
On August 2, it rained all night. There had been no storm or thunder. The author experienced a feeling of “being untouched by, and yet in touch with, the rain”. March 23 marked the end of winter. The blackest cloud he had ever seen spread over Mussoorie and – then it hailed marbles for half an hour, The hailstorm cleared the sky and he saw a rainbow forming.
