An impression sent out via an international email network during one of Auroville's monsoon periods:

… so it is raining and raining and raining and drizzling and pouring and squirting and spouting and raining over roads turned into orange streams meandering thru the township, rushing, gushing, washing out all big ideas and philosophies and getting us down to the elements, the grass roots, the fungus and moist walls, the smell of cheese and moldy blankets, moldy clothes all in the rains, incessant rains and power cuts and hassles to get wet letters to wet post offices, and jumping between the leaks under the keet roofs and more rain and waterfalls breaking thru the bunds and please let us learn to bund properly so that our roads remain roads and don't turn into thick muddy orange ankle deep rivers in which you loose your chappals and get stuck and always under the wet wet wet soaking poncho's or whatever you have, grinning at each other and marveling at India's ancient eternal colours silvery leaden gray skies and golden brown skins and sparkling eyes and psychedelic plastic coverings and everywhere these orange lakes and puddles and rivers orange orange orange against gray orange against silver, and more rain and more drizzle and more downpour and it's a hassle but my do we need the rain and the water and when will it stop will it finally be the deluge the final deluge après nous le deluge, and the sound of rain taking away the sound of om or is it om in another form of course it is and it rains and it rains and it rains some more and it rains and rains and it pours and rains and it rains and it rains and oh does it rain and it rains and it rains and it rains and it rains and it rains and it rains and it rains and it rains and it rains and it rains and it rains and it rains and it rains and it rains ..