To monsoon or not to monsoon

A few weeks ago it looked as though the monsoon had finally arrived, with the onset of daily storms and downpours (although this has now stopped and it appears the monsoon has, in my part of Tamil Nadu, failed). The Indians class this time as the "cool season", I call it the "fractionally cooler season"! The temperature still soars into the high 30s during the day, but it is slightly cooler at night and I no longer lie in a pool of sweat. The heat is probably the biggest challenge for me here. I have classified hand-washing as an extreme sport - the sweat streams from my nose like a tap. I used to do my washing in public, but it's a little daunting having an audience of six women discussing my technique, so I now indulge in naked hand-washing whilst in the shower. Most of the families where I live use a "dhobi" - a person who washes for a living. I'm sure they think I'm nuts doing my own washing but I feel that there are already too many barriers between me and the locals and I don't want people thinking I'm above doing my own dirty work. Anyhow it gives me something in common with the dhobi who gives me an enormous toothless grin when she sees me lugging my washing around.
With the rain came the dragon flies in their hundreds, all hatched out overnight and busy making their maiden voyages the next day. Also thriving are the mosquitoes, who have taken a particular liking to my feet, even the soles. Last count 20 bites. How they manage to bite there without being squashed is beyond me. Perhaps they are a new kamikaze breed! They certainly don't have a sense of smell that's for sure!
We have enormous thunder storms each day, which I absolutely love. They are the kind which make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, you can feel the electricity in the air. I stand on the roof terrace and watch the lightning crackle overhead, it reminds me that we are very small in the grand scheme of things, little dots on a planet which is still raw and volatile. The rain falls in torrents, so heavy I can't see the other side of the street. The road transforms into a river half a foot deep in a matter of minutes - it's quite a sight. Life here goes on regardless, people wading about, bikes wobbling through potholes, whole families perched precariously on the backs of motorbikes, turds floating by.