My brain has a very unreliable filing system https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monsoon . Some perfectly respectable days disappear into a general folder called Later. And then there are a few hours that apparently deserve their own file, their own label, their own little corner of permanent storage. So, welcome to “The Night Acquired A Soundtrack Without Asking Us : Nature Apparently Acquired A Concert On A Saturday”.

I would like to express my concerns about evenings that do not follow the planned programme. A basic level of courtesy—a clear beginning, a thoughtful middle, and a predictable end—would enhance our experience and create a more enjoyable atmosphere for everyone.

To know the deets of having howling sound In Canada while in winters, click on Howling Winds Of February : A Canadian Nightmare – Wander, Feast & Thrive

Nature Apparently Had Acquired A Concert On A Saturday : The Night Acquired A Soundtrack Without Asking Us

Saturday was a lively celebration full of joy and community. During the Navaratri season, the air was filled with exciting activities, lifting our spirits with the thrill of shared happiness. With the monsoon’s arrival, a warm familiarity surrounded us, creating a rich experience that filled our hearts in this special celebration.

It was the enchanting monsoon season, where the skies were draped in thick, brooding clouds and rain fell like whispered secrets from above. The atmosphere was electric, buzzing with the raw excitement typical of this time. Little did anyone know, though, that this very day would soon metamorphose into an experience that felt utterly transformative and exhilarating.

The day went on as usual, and the evening brought guests home for Navaratri. Having people visit for Golu is always such a happy part of the festival. There were conversations, laughter, showing them the Golu, spending time together and simply enjoying the house being full. Later, we went Golu hopping.

Clouds Were Already Around And The City With Strange Mixture Of Moods : Nature Apparently Had Acquired A Concert On A Saturday

The clouds were already around, and the city had a strange mixture of moods that evening — festive, slightly gloomy, cold and somehow cheerful at the same time. On our way back, it started raining normally. There was lightning here and there and thunder in the distance, but nothing that made us think twice. Thank God, we reached home before the real nightmare began.

We returned home, our hearts still racing from the day’s excitement, ordered dinner, and finally settled in for the evening. This should have marked the end of our lively day. The festival had been full of joy and laughter, leaving us breathless. However, just as we found comfort, the mood changed suddenly, wrapping us in an unexpected intensity.

The lightning suddenly became severe. It wasn’t the kind of lightning we casually notice through the window and move on from. The flashes were intense, frequent and frighteningly bright. We usually don’t close the curtains fully, but that night I pulled them shut because I genuinely didn’t want to keep watching what was happening outside.

Thunder Intensified With A Familiar Sound During Monsoon But Far More Powerful : The Night Acquired A Soundtrack Without Asking Us

The thunder grew louder, a familiar sound during the monsoon, but this felt over the top, almost dramatic. Each crack seemed to demand my attention, as if the lightning was performing, followed by booms that wouldn’t quiet down. Then the rain fell heavily, as if the sky wanted to take revenge and release everything it had on the city all at once.

That was when I started getting scared. I switched off my laptop, pulled out the television plugs and switched off the A/C switches. There was nothing else to do except wait it out. The next day, there was discussion about whether it had actually been a cloudburst, with some people calling it one and others denying it.

I honestly had no interest in deciding what category the rain belonged to. From inside our home, it felt like a cloudburst. The intensity was frightening, and the worst part was that it simply continued. One hour passed, and then it kept going, getting close to two hours of lightning, thunder and rain with hardly any sign of relief.

Did Distraction Help Me, Eventually It Did But : Nature Apparently Had Acquired A Concert On A Saturday

My husband suggested I distract myself instead of focusing on every sound, thinking that headphones would fix everything. I watched videos on my phone, hoping to shift my attention from the storm to the screen, but did it actually work? Eventually, the storm calmed down, but I didn’t feel relaxed. After such loudness, it was tough not to expect another outburst at any moment.

The intensity of the storm did leave its mark on our block too. The power went off after a short circuit, some of the wires burned out, and even the water tank needed a little repair. There was some minor damage to the structure as well. We are on the first floor, so climbing the stairs up and down isn’t really a problem for us.

But for those living on the second, third and fourth floors, the non-availability of the lift is going to be a very different story. A lift becoming unavailable is one thing; having to regularly manage several floors by staircase is another, especially when the whole block’s terrace has suddenly been pushed into an unexpected repair-and-recovery mode.

Strangest Part Was How Ordinary The Beginning Of The Day Had
Been : The Night Acquired A Soundtrack Without Asking Us

The strangest part was how ordinary the beginning of the day had been. Navaratri, guests, Golu hopping, conversations, coming back home, ordering dinner and settling down — everything had followed such a familiar festive Saturday rhythm. And then, within a short span of time, the entire night became something I had never experienced quite like this before.

It sort of reminded me of those howling sounds we supposedly heard during snowstorms in Canada. Sure, the weather was completely different, but that feeling of sitting inside while something supposedly enormous was happening outside felt oddly familiar, though I’m not sure why.

I can’t recall such a strange start to the monsoon season. Heavy rain in Chennai is common, but that night felt unusually intense. We began with Golu but ended with curtains closed, plugs removed, headphones on, and me nervously waiting for the storm to pass. This night seemed to stretch on, as if it had its own agenda, with nature directing a grand show.