Bengaluru recently went through a May-December romance. Now it has nothing to do with what a Mills and Boon novel has to offer, but it is about the freak weather this year. In May we were experiencing a December-like chill, forcing us to take out the sweaters and jackets that were mothballed a barely a month or two ago.
May began from what April had left off – sweltering
afternoons with some relief during nights. Fans and air conditioners were
sweating it out throughout the day. Those venturing out in afternoons were even
witnessing mirages, something associated with more arid climes.
This continued for nearly a week and then Cyclone
Asani happened in the distant Bay of Bengal. The cyclonic formation brought rain clouds to Bangalore. People cheered as it was a harbinger of some glad
tidings. Soon one started feeling the
cool breeze and the vague smell of petrichor. This was followed by thunder and
lightning and the skies opened up.
Pre-monsoon showers are not uncommon in Bengaluru.
They are often referred to as ‘mango rains’ as they help in the flowering of
mangoes and keep the mercury levels within limits.
But this year something unusual happened. The rains
just did not just bring respite from the heat, it also ensured that the mercury
dropped drastically and the maximum temperature plunged by 9 degrees Celsius on
May 10. It was the lowest in this century.
Showers became a regular feature every evening, while
the days continued to swelter. Social media was awash with memes of Bengaluru
having three seasons in a day – summer after 10 am, monsoon in the evening, and
winter at night.
Bengaluru Twitter began proudly flaunting the
screenshots of live temperatures and boasting how they were even cooler than
various hill stations in India. The reactions it evoked were sharp – ranging
from admiration to envy/hostility, especially from our countrymen up north,
where the maximum temperature refuses to come below 40 degrees Celsius.
The weathermen explained this bountiful wet spell to
two cyclonic circulations – one off Tamil Nadu in the Bay of Bengal and the other
near Lakshadweep Islands.
However, it also exposed the city’s infrastructure fault lines. It showed that a mere half-an-hour shower was enough to bring the city’s roads to their knees, and fill the underpasses with waist-high water. Many low-lying areas got inundated and drains were clogged on almost every street.
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