It is raining daily here, as it always does when it gets very hot. It is a rare Bangalorean who carries an umbrella or wears clothes for rain. A book held over the head, an arm across the chest, a piece of a plastic sheet, handkerchief knotted at its four corners into an improvised cap, these are protection for Bangaloreans of any station. Thus it has always been, and will not likely change. The weather is mostly kind, so hearing a weather bulletin, knowing how many millimeters of rain fell, what the high and low temperatures were, when the sun rose and set: who cares? The umbrellas and the raincoats and the gum-boots and the hats and all concern for the weather came and left with the English.
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