You can tell when the monsoon is coming in. The sky darkens, the air changes its smell. What was once a sunny day is covered with a deep gray overcast as imposing clouds roll in across the horizon.

This is monsoon season, where Hyderabad receives about seven or eight inches of rain, deposited often in the humid, languid afternoons.

The monsoon is a rain that drenches and is unlike any rain in the states. Sweeping bursts of rain, a torrential downpour. Lightening follows, striking the land around you. Sharp bolts pierce the clouds. Their glow flares in the gloomy sky. Reverberations of thunder rocket afterward.

Running out in the monsoon is a wetter experience than anything I’ve ever been in before. The roads turn into rivers. Feral dogs cross the street in front of you, scampering for shelter. Monkeys hide in tree canopies. All wildlife other than the dogs is out of sight.

The monsoon washes away the filth on the street. Effluent and waste travel to lower elevations.

With the monsoon, like clockwork, the power goes out. Usually for less than thirty minutes, though unusually for hours. Sometimes the newly installed generator kicks in, sometimes not. Usually when the generator does we work, we either have the fan, the internet or the AC working.