With a concerned knot on his forehead Dagadonath sat peering at the dark mass of clouds slowly starting to gather over the western shore of India.
It was almost July and the long summer that year had left the people, fields and cattle desperate for water making the first signs of rain precious to everyone. Weary of the chill in the wind and the rumble of the distant thunder Dagadonath thought the dry spell would finally be broken.
All of a sudden in a swift motion he started beating a drum creating loud thuds that echoed endlessly through the stone pillars of the old fort we were in. From this high ground these echoing thuds traveled far and wide not only spreading the message of upcoming rain but also calling the heavy clouds landward. Matched by the sound of crashing waves these hypnotic beats grew louder and louder until finally the sweet smell of wet soil was all around us.