Mother regrets having gone to bazaar: two snakes crossed her path. It’s an ill omen. She fears soon premonition is going to befall us. Something not good is going to happen. Of course, she’s as true as she’s superstitious: something up, above us, accumulated as saturated, dark nimbus clouds are ready to respond to the call of gravity anytime. So when it rains, then begins the premonition.
The humid air and warm wet earth wakes swarms of tiny vampires that survived through the cold winter days. Summer is the season when they multiply their army whose strength were thin out during the last adverse weather conditions. The visit of these newborn swarms of mosquitoes at our home drag us to spend some amount to welcome them with smokes of coils, chemical repellents and pesticides. It’s so done because we can’t afford to get infected with malaria and dengue – the prime disease in the region.
Another menace is the hidden performer behind the thickets. At night – usually after rain – these unseen bands try out their vocals. It would be a timid, low croak at first. Later, as if confident of the silence around and the absence of audience, successive croaks would follow as if the croakers are set into crazy competition. The competition would continue and the night air would resound with the countless echoes of the deadly talented singers whose songs keep the residents away from their due sleep. It’s only in summer these bands come to play their gruff notes.
These infestations are minor an issue in comparison to the amount of electricity consumed in the rainy days. When the clouds shroud the sun, the born darkness demands their own share of the power. And in the moist air, the only alternative to dry clothes remain the electric fan. It’s the hydroelectric power that keeps the home running. As the unit consumed during summer is excessively high, the utility bill is certainly going to be high as well.
Perhaps, these are the premonitions mother anticipate.