Shy as a young bride, the monsoon hints at her presence,but does not actually come right in. I, the lover of Varsha,as enamoured as any infatuated swain, ardently wait. The grey will turn a richer hue, the clouds will boil and scud across the sky, the air will cool magically….the life-giving drops will patter upon the parched earth, and grishma ritu will lose her hold, at least for a while….