Like most people, Joseph had spent a not inconsiderable amount of his free time scrolling through Twitter or Instagram. Now that he had closed down his accounts he had plenty of time for other activities. Joseph never had much of a hobby however, so he ended up spending it reading the news. One piece of news that seemed to get little attention but struck him for some unknown reason, was an ongoing story about a drought in the region around Chennai in India. It had rained less than normal during the wet season so the reservoirs were only partially full when the dry season started and now the situation was getting worse by the week. Farmers in the region were warning that their crops would be at risk if things didn’t improve soon.
Joseph felt he could be able to do some good for the people of Chennai by bringing his cloud there. However, he had seen enough sci-fi movies to know that playing god almost never ends well. He therefore spent the next few days doing his homework and when he felt certain he wouldn’t inadvertently cause some sort of secondary disaster he booked a ticket.
The trip to Chennai was long but rather uneventful. At the airport he sought out the friendliest looking of all the guides and taxi drivers waiting outside the terminal building. “Will you be needing a guide, sir,” the man asked. “I need someone who can take me to a number of different places,” Joseph replied.
“I can take you in my taxi”
“How much?”
“For 500 rupees a day plus expenses I will take you anywhere in Chennai.”
“It’s a deal,” Joseph reached out his hand. The man shook it. “I am Prabaker but you can call me Prabu for short.”
“Nice to meet you Prabu, I am Joseph” Prabaker led him towards a parked car and Joseph loaded his backpack and umbrella into the back seat and climbed in after them.
“Where to, Mr Joseph sir?”
“I don’t have a clear plan but I want to see Chembarambakkam Lake, Poondi Lake, and Puzhai Lake.”
“The lakes are very dry sir, not much beautiful this time sir.”
“I still want to see them.”
“Sir, no rain for very long time, more dry than other years.”
“That’s kind of the reason I want to see them.”
“Are you a scientist sir?”
“Something like that.”
“Ok, which one you see first?”
“Go to the one closest to the airport.”
“Yes sir, we go to Chembarambakkam”
Prabaker started the engine and put the car into gear. As they pulled out from under the awning over the taxi stand, heavy raindrops started pelting the hood of the car. Prabu’s jaw dropped open. “It’s raining,” he exclaimed, pointing out the windscreen. “I guess that’s good,” Joseph said.
“Very good news indeed.”
“So I guess the lakes will not be so dry after all.”
“No, in fact now I wish to see them myself.”
They drove along an elevated expressway for around 20 minutes before switching to a smaller and much busier road. There were vehicles everywhere, old rusty trucks lumbering along, yellow and green auto rickshaws sticking to the road shoulder, and plenty of motorbikes, often with three or even four people on them, weaving in and out between the bigger vehicles. Everyone, including Prabaker, kept honking enthusiastically. Joseph had never experienced anything like it, not even in China, and he found it simultaneously frightening and exhilarating. Strange enough Prabu never noticed the looks of amazement on the faces of other drivers. After about ten minutes they turned onto an even smaller road heading out of the city. Along both sides of the road were fields of dry yellow earth, a few patches of dusty green here and there. Joseph, who knew nothing about agriculture, thought it looked really bad.
Suddenly a motorcycle came roaring past then stopped a few hundred meters in front of them. Two figures got off it and started waving their arms above their heads. Prabaker slowed the car to a halt in front of them and rolled down the window as the two men approached. He spoke to them briefly in what Joseph assumed was hindi. This assumption was false, Prabaker was in fact speaking Tamil. He then turned to Joseph and said “Mr. Joseph sir, these men are saying the rain falls only on my taxi. They want me to drive to their field to water the crops.” “I need to tell you something Prabu,” Joseph explained, “the rain is actually falling on me.” Prabaker just stared in disbelief. “Actually, I think it’s better I show you,” Joseph said. He unpacked his umbrella, which he kept in a small bag for the trip, and stepped out of the car. With Prabaker and the two men on the motorcycle watching, he started walking along the side of the road. It didn’t take long before he could hear excited screams behind him. Prabu and the two men quickly caught up to him, seemingly not caring that they were getting wet. “The rain really is falling on you sir,” Prabu said.
“Yes, it has been raining on me like this every day for a few months now.”
“You came here to help us?”
“I did. I hope I can do some good here.” Prabub mumbled something in Tamil then looked up at Joseph again. “I thank the gods for sending you.”
“But I know nothing about India, Prabu. I want you to be my guide and assistant.”
“I am very honored sir.”
Prababker suggested they start by bringing the rain to the field belonging to the two men on the motorcycle before heading to the lake. Joseph agreed and they set off towards one of the fields they had passed some minutes earlier. As Joseph was slowly walking across it, making sure he didn’t leave any dry spots, a woman appeared and started talking to Prabu. Her family owned the neighboring field and she was asking for Joseph’s help. He felt he couldn’t deny her request and soon found himself watering her field as well. One by one the people who owned the neighboring fields showed up and asked for Joseph to bring the rain to their fields. They formed a small procession following him across the fields singing and chanting in Tamil. It took them a couple of hours to reach the lake and the lookout point where there was a small pavilion. Joseph sat down on one of the benches near the edge, letting the rain drum on the pavilion roof before flowing into the lake. As he was sitting there someone brought him a cup of masala milk tea and another person brought some deep fried triangular things which Prabaker called samosas. He thanked the people for their gifts and drank and ate happily. He spent several hours there in that pavilion in order to raise the water level in the lake at least a little. All the while people in the neighborhood kept bringing him little gifts, dried fruits, nuts, biscuits, more tea. It wasn’t until it was getting dark that Prabu suggested they head back into the city to find a hotel.
Joseph and Prabaker spent the next several weeks touring Chennai and the surrounding area. Whenever they were in an area with farmland they had to stop and help the people there, Joseph walking back and forth across the fields. Just like on the first day, the farmers would form a small procession and follow him around. When they came to one of the city’s lakes they would find a nice spot and sit there for a couple of hours, letting the rain flow into the reservoir. Everywhere they went the locals would bring them little gifts: food, drinks, cigarettes, fresh fruits or garlands of fragrant flowers. Soon enough news about the Merkattiyar (meaning westerner) bringing rain to the farmers started spreading out in the region. One day a reporter from the Chennai branch of the India Times showed up asking for an interview. Remembering the backlash from his trip to China, Joseph declined stating “I don’t want to become famous, I just want to help the people of Chennai in any way I can.” Despite not giving an interview his story still ended up in the India Times online edition and from there it spread via social media.
A few days after the story was published, Conrad messaged him and informed him that it was too late to stay anonymous. Apparently someone had linked the India Times story to his old inactive Cloud Guy Twitter account and he was going viral once again. Joseph resisted for as long as he could before reactivating the account. He was indeed getting a lot of praise in the comments on the article. Funnily enough he recognized some of the accounts praising him as the very same ones that had criticized him just a few months earlier. Apparently the fact that he refused to publicize his work in Chennai meant he couldn’t be accused of being a “White Savior”. And so, he remained a silent spectator in his own return to grace.
One morning, little more than two months after Joseph first arrived in Chennai, he and Prabaker were having breakfast together at one of his favorite breakfast shops, the rain drumming against the corrugated metal roof. As usual Prabu was absentmindedly reading the news while he ate. Suddenly he stopped mid bite then looked up from his phone, “Joseph, look.” Before Joseph could make any comment, Prabu excitedly showed him the phone screen. There was a small article, only a couple of paragraphs, that quoted a city official saying that the worst of the water crisis was over. The water level in the city’s reservoirs was still low but no longer critical.
“That’s great news.”
“You did it Joseph,” Prabaker smiled.
“No Prabu, we did it. I couldn’t have managed without you.” Prabu’s smile widened even further.
“Tonight we will celebrate,” Joseph continued, “but yesterday we promised those farmers near Poondi we would come back.”
“Certainly!”
Joseph had booked his tickets for as long as the visa would allow and now he had about two weeks left until his flight home. Prabu had suggested he relax and do a bit of sightseeing but Joseph wanted to make sure the water crisis didn’t become worse as soon as he left, so he insisted they continue. During this time the amount of rain falling from Joseph’s cloud started to dwindle and at the end of those two weeks it was little more than a drizzle. The day before Joseph’s flight back, Prabaker invited him out for a drive. They headed out of the city and Joseph soon recognized the road to lake Chembarambakkam. Prabu parked a couple of kilometers from the lake and they started strolling towards the lookout pavilion, following the same route they had taken on Joseph’s first day in India. Prabu pointed out the fields along the sides of the road; two months ago they had been dry and barren but now they were dotted with green. The crops were different from field to field but there was something growing in all of them. Joseph was elated. Here was proof that what he had been doing for the past ten weeks wasn’t just good in theory, there were some actual positive results. Whatever doubts he’d had before were gone, he could fly home without having to worry.
One fine morning, not long after returning from India, Joseph’s cloud disappeared. He didn’t notice at first, most people wouldn’t, but when he came back from an errand and folded his umbrella he realized it was dry – the cloud was gone. He looked around for it, as if he had misplaced it somewhere, which was a ridiculous notion, before giving up. The cloud was nowhere to be seen. Joseph smiled to himself then went about the rest of his day as if nothing had happened.
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