Chasing the storm
'It was time! It was time for Bordoisila, the fierce wind, to go home to visit her mother. I picture her flying across the paddy fields and her long hair entangled and flowing amidst the clouds. Maybe that is why every year we leave a mirror, a comb and a stool to sit on outside in the front porch for her to stop, look into the mirror, fix her hair and continue to fly home. Some say it is only a folk tale, but if so, what explains the timely wild wind at the onset of monsoon every year. I believed in Bordoisila.'
