She grabbed a wrench and trudged outside. The rain immediately soaked her cotton kurti. As she knelt by the water tank, a voice startled her.
For the next two weeks, Finn became part of the homestay. He helped Leela paint a new sign. He learned to roll a beedi (badly) and to curse in Malayalam (offensively well). They walked to the lighthouse when the rain paused, and he told her about the cliffs of Moher, about his broken engagement, about how he had bought a one-way ticket hoping to find something he didn’t know he’d lost. off season in kerala
Leela couldn’t help but laugh. "You’re here in the off-season. Everything is closed." She grabbed a wrench and trudged outside
"No," Leela said. "This is the off-season. This is beautiful." For the next two weeks, Finn became part of the homestay
The rain came down in grey, unbroken sheets. It was May, and the southwest monsoon had arrived early. The beaches of Varkala, usually teeming with foreign tourists and the smell of fried fish, were empty. The shacks were boarded up, their bright blue and yellow paint muted by the constant drizzle. This was the off-season.
She leaned her head on his shoulder. The sun disappeared again, and the first fat drops of the next shower began to fall.
"It’s beautiful," Finn whispered.