Monsoon  at Bentota Beach

 

Down at Bentota Beach and the humidity thickens. Early morning shadows are dissolving, the sun is rising higher but there’s a black band of curdling cloud churning and furring along the ocean horizon.It won’t be long before this monsoon rolls in off the Indian Ocean bringing with it a waterfall of rain in a single thunderclap.And when it rains, it really rains; there’s precious little else to do except sit it out and wait for the storm to sluice itself into silence, knowing the blue skies will return by noon and the peace of the afternoon will sing in a serene siesta of bird calls. 

 

Along the shoreline a group of fishermen tell me to take care: the storm is approaching fast. As I head back, along Bentota Beach, one of the things I love most about travelling is how random strangers can see you as one of their own. Your welfare is their concern.

Maybe the sense of serendipity and fortune is heightened during a journey; maybe it is inherent to the adventure itself. Yet it is an opportunity for us to touch others and to allow others to touch us with our shared humanity. There is so much to persuade us that difference will polarise, yet difference is the opportunity for us to discover common ground; to perceive that mornings like this blend humility and generosity into One: your welfare is my concern.

 

Further along Bentota Beach and the monsoon rains hit. A spray of sand spits up into the air as pellets of rain are unleashed along across the beach, hissing in a shimmering blur of colours and a muffled fog of noise to drown the stinging roll of surf smashing ashore. A fraternity of surfers call me to join them in their makeshift shelter – flat pieces of wood nailed to a thicket of trees (from here they hire surfboards to tourists).

These are the fishermen who lost more than their livelihoods during the 2004 Tsunami.

 

During the downpour, a sheltering tuk-tuk driver offers to drive me back to my hotel but no, not yet; let’s all wait until these rains stop. Your welfare is my concern, too. Eventually, the winds will blow themselves out, and so, too, the rains will peter out to a drift of drizzle. Amazing and exhausted, everything will soon rejuvenate in the dripping serenity of sky blue sounds – the birds will sing in their whistles and insects will join them in their chirpings; this storm will soon pass.

No matter the brevity of our meetings, they have the potential to resonate within us for much, much longer. And as these rains fall down on Bentota Beach these words keep such magic alive each time new eyes read this.

For now, though, just sharing these moments is enough.