Hoping for sun

It is noon on a lazy Sunday in Seattle. The sky is overcast, a dull glow above the peaceful neighborhood. Cars swish by, hardly making a sound. The silence is punctuated occasionally by the piercing shouts of a couple of schoolboys roughhousing. I see a dog on a leash, walking obediently with its master. The air is not cold but cools the skin, flushed by the heat of Indian summer as I walk up the steep slope towards the elementary school. There is one word to describe the atmosphere – grey.

Just last week, I was hoping for grey-black rain-bearing clouds to take away the edge of the punishing Hyderabad heat. I prayed for wet respite from the dry weather to soak the parched earth. How I hoped to have at least a few hours of break from the unrelenting rays beating down on helpless heads. A layer of clouds to cushion the glare of sunshine would have seemed like a boon granted by the rain gods.

Here the uniformly dreary sky stays the same at dawn, midmorning or dusk. Looking out the window does not give you any clue as to the time of day. Sundials won’t work here for sure. I am desperate for a glimpse of a tiny speck of sunshine that peeks out from the thick layers of clouds, if only for a few minutes. It’s not just the sun that is conspicuously absent. On weekdays there is hardly a soul to be seen outside. I eagerly wait for the garbage truck as it makes it weekly round, to meekly collect the neatly sorted trash, the general, the blue recyclables and the green degradable garbage

I reach for the thick jacket and wear socks and shoes before stepping out, even to collect the newspaper. I check out the weather forecast for the week. It says “sun breaks” for Thursday. Perhaps I need to plan the trip to downtown for a day that has at least a promise of sun. I remember how miserable it is to be outside and cold. A cup of Starbucks might ease the cold a little. I am in Seattle, after all.