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Chasing the Monsoon
On 20th May, the Indian summer monsoon will begin to envelop the country in two great wet arms, one coming from the east, the other from the west. They are united over central India around 10th July, a date that can be calculated within seven or eight days. Alexander Frater aims to follow the monsoon, staying sometimes behind it, sometimes in front of it, and everywhere watching the impact of this extraordinary phenomenon. During the anxious period of waiting, the weather forecaster is king, consulted by pie-crested cockatoos, and a joyful period there is a period of promiscuity, and scandals proliferate. Frater's journey takes him to Bangkok and the cowboy town on the Thai-Malaysian border to Rangoon and Akyab in Burma (where the front funnels up between the mountains and the sea). His fascinating narrative reveals the exotic, often startling, discoveries of an ambitious and irresistibly romantic adventurer.
273 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1991
113 people are currently reading
2363 people want to read
About the author
Alexander Frater
17 books33 followersAlexander Frater has contributed to various UK publications--Miles Kington called him "the funniest man who wrote for Punch since the war"--and been a contracted New Yorker writer; as chief travel correspondent of the London Observer he won an unprecedented number of British Press Travel Awards. Two of his books, Beyond the Blue Horizon and Chasing the Monsoon, have been been into major BBC television films. One, the Last Aftican Flying Bat (based on the former), took the Bafta award for best single documentary, while a programme for BBC Radio 4 (about his South Seas birthplace) was named overall winner of the Travelex Travel Writers' Awards. He lives in London, though, whenever time and money allow, is likely to be found skulking deep in the hot, wet tropics.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 164 reviews
May 30, 2017
This is, without doubt, the most fascinating travelogue I have ever read. Frater follows the monsoon from its genesis in Kerala up to Cherrapunji in Assam, the wettest place on earth: in the process, he gives fascinating insights about India, the monsoon, India + the monsoon (a strange entity!) and human nature in general. His writing is wryly humorous (without being sarcastic) and sympathetic at the same time.
Being from Kerala, I know and love the monsoon. So it was all the more enjoyable for me. As I read the book, I could almost smell the smell of the first rains on parched soil, what we call "the smell of new earth".
Highly recommended.
Being from Kerala, I know and love the monsoon. So it was all the more enjoyable for me. As I read the book, I could almost smell the smell of the first rains on parched soil, what we call "the smell of new earth".
Highly recommended.
November 21, 2025
India is an independent sovereign state free from the constraints of the British (read Brutish) rule, but now the descendants of the Britons are coming back, like many of their forebears, adoring the country - as a romantic ideal, turbulent, impoverished India still weaves its spell and the key to it all - the colours, the moods, the scents, the subtle, mysterious light, the poetry, the heightened expectations, the kind of beauty that makes your heart miss a beat - the MONSOON.
Chasing the Mons0on is a travelogue written by a Britisher, Alexander Frater, who in the course of following the Indian summer monsoon traverses through the country, starting from the southern coast, from where the monsoon incepts! This is an interesting account of his journey, during which he encounters various kinds of people across the country (given our 'diversity', something which I'm extremely proud of) and the startling discoveries and the learning that comes from each of those meets!
This was my first travelogue read and I had a long on-and-off hiatus with this book, so today I finally decided to culminate the same, and boy does it feel magnificent after completing a book (any reader would completely be in - line with me on this).
3/5 stars from my side.
Chasing the Mons0on is a travelogue written by a Britisher, Alexander Frater, who in the course of following the Indian summer monsoon traverses through the country, starting from the southern coast, from where the monsoon incepts! This is an interesting account of his journey, during which he encounters various kinds of people across the country (given our 'diversity', something which I'm extremely proud of) and the startling discoveries and the learning that comes from each of those meets!
This was my first travelogue read and I had a long on-and-off hiatus with this book, so today I finally decided to culminate the same, and boy does it feel magnificent after completing a book (any reader would completely be in - line with me on this).
3/5 stars from my side.
May 15, 2020
‘Chasing the Monsoon’ is a wonderful travelogue! It was published in the United States in 1990, but I think the author Alexander Frater journeyed to India in 1987.
Frater was on a mission - to follow the onset of the Monsoon up the western coast of India, from Trivandrum to Bombay, then crossing to Delhi and Calcutta, to finish in Cherrapunji. I realize these cities all have undergone spelling changes, but I will use the names Frater uses in his travels.
The trip to India was one undergone because of a health scare. Frater had injured his neck on a rough road across western China. Most London doctors believed if he re-injured his neck, he might be permanently paralyzed. Initially very depressed, he eventually faced down his fears of possibly damaging his neck inadvertently at some point in the future after he struck up a conversation with fellow patients while waiting for a follow-up exam during his recovery. The patient and his wife were Indian. They spoke of how the husband’s mental condition was affected by a cluster of migraines.
Eventually the conversation veered to the arrival of the Monsoon in India, a hugely significant event - spiritually significant, life-giving in growing crops and in ending droughts, a relief from the spectacular summer heat, and refilling depleted wells and rivers. The power of Monsoon rains and winds could also be destructive - destroying homes and streets and businesses, drowning unwary or incautious or unlucky people.
Frater became instantly enchanted by the idea of following the Monsoon! He had grown up on a South Pacific island with his missionary parents where heavy rain and hurricanes were common. After his conversation about India’s Monsoon, Frater felt deep nostalgia for those island rains and storms. He booked a flight to Trivandrum as soon as he could arrange it.
Frater learned that India is extremely diverse in culture, class and in people. Frater’s journey allowed him to see a lot of that diversity - from wealthy enclaves to impoverished hovels. He traveled by bus and taxi and hired drivers in various automobiles in different states of repair on roads which were paved and not. He discovered a lot of interesting fellow travelers were also following the Monsoon - all exhilarated by the thunderstorms and pouring rain. Others spoke of losing everything they owned or had worked for in the consequent flooding. Everybody had a Monsoon story - from the personal to myths. He tried ‘cures’ being sold by street vendors and entrepreneurs offering various health fixes which were advertised to be affective only during the coming of the Monsoon. He discussed air pressure, Antarctica ice and cloud formations with various meteorologists, university scientists and politicians, making appointments with surprisingly affable officials or researchers of atmospheric science.
The one thing which was consistently irritating was the bureaucracy. He had very strange and frustrating experiences with officialdom, but eventually he found his way to cut through it and have a fascinating adventure.
Frater is a good writer, and since he kept a diary of his travels, he has written a travelogue full of interesting vignettes. He almost never negatively judged whatever conditions he found himself in or the people he met - instead, often finding something interesting or amusing. Frater clearly would be a good partner on any exotic vacation!
I live in the American Pacific Northwest. Obviously, I have never really experienced weather like a Monsoon, or anything similar to the heat and droughts of India. We have a lot of consistently available water here - so much in fact, it is primarily the backbone for our 24/7 electrical-power industry, from many dams and mountain lakes and rivers. Temperature ‘extremes’ for us mean maybe a week or two or 30F in winter and a couple of weeks of 90F in late summer. Northeastern Americans think our Fall season of trees losing leaves and changing colors as pathetic compared to the drama of their forests. So, I never imagined how a season could be incredibly emotional like it is for Indians awaiting the Monsoon. Our weather reports are detailed on TV and in ipad apps, but they are mundane, generally speaking, compared to how Indians follow and feel about the Monsoon.
This book most certainly has introduced me to a new idea - a country’s weather season so overwhelming and big it drives many aspects of their culture going back millennia. Wow.
Frater was on a mission - to follow the onset of the Monsoon up the western coast of India, from Trivandrum to Bombay, then crossing to Delhi and Calcutta, to finish in Cherrapunji. I realize these cities all have undergone spelling changes, but I will use the names Frater uses in his travels.
The trip to India was one undergone because of a health scare. Frater had injured his neck on a rough road across western China. Most London doctors believed if he re-injured his neck, he might be permanently paralyzed. Initially very depressed, he eventually faced down his fears of possibly damaging his neck inadvertently at some point in the future after he struck up a conversation with fellow patients while waiting for a follow-up exam during his recovery. The patient and his wife were Indian. They spoke of how the husband’s mental condition was affected by a cluster of migraines.
Eventually the conversation veered to the arrival of the Monsoon in India, a hugely significant event - spiritually significant, life-giving in growing crops and in ending droughts, a relief from the spectacular summer heat, and refilling depleted wells and rivers. The power of Monsoon rains and winds could also be destructive - destroying homes and streets and businesses, drowning unwary or incautious or unlucky people.
Frater became instantly enchanted by the idea of following the Monsoon! He had grown up on a South Pacific island with his missionary parents where heavy rain and hurricanes were common. After his conversation about India’s Monsoon, Frater felt deep nostalgia for those island rains and storms. He booked a flight to Trivandrum as soon as he could arrange it.
Frater learned that India is extremely diverse in culture, class and in people. Frater’s journey allowed him to see a lot of that diversity - from wealthy enclaves to impoverished hovels. He traveled by bus and taxi and hired drivers in various automobiles in different states of repair on roads which were paved and not. He discovered a lot of interesting fellow travelers were also following the Monsoon - all exhilarated by the thunderstorms and pouring rain. Others spoke of losing everything they owned or had worked for in the consequent flooding. Everybody had a Monsoon story - from the personal to myths. He tried ‘cures’ being sold by street vendors and entrepreneurs offering various health fixes which were advertised to be affective only during the coming of the Monsoon. He discussed air pressure, Antarctica ice and cloud formations with various meteorologists, university scientists and politicians, making appointments with surprisingly affable officials or researchers of atmospheric science.
The one thing which was consistently irritating was the bureaucracy. He had very strange and frustrating experiences with officialdom, but eventually he found his way to cut through it and have a fascinating adventure.
Frater is a good writer, and since he kept a diary of his travels, he has written a travelogue full of interesting vignettes. He almost never negatively judged whatever conditions he found himself in or the people he met - instead, often finding something interesting or amusing. Frater clearly would be a good partner on any exotic vacation!
I live in the American Pacific Northwest. Obviously, I have never really experienced weather like a Monsoon, or anything similar to the heat and droughts of India. We have a lot of consistently available water here - so much in fact, it is primarily the backbone for our 24/7 electrical-power industry, from many dams and mountain lakes and rivers. Temperature ‘extremes’ for us mean maybe a week or two or 30F in winter and a couple of weeks of 90F in late summer. Northeastern Americans think our Fall season of trees losing leaves and changing colors as pathetic compared to the drama of their forests. So, I never imagined how a season could be incredibly emotional like it is for Indians awaiting the Monsoon. Our weather reports are detailed on TV and in ipad apps, but they are mundane, generally speaking, compared to how Indians follow and feel about the Monsoon.
This book most certainly has introduced me to a new idea - a country’s weather season so overwhelming and big it drives many aspects of their culture going back millennia. Wow.
September 10, 2022
I picked up this book with very high expectations, because I'm from Trivandrum, Kerala, from where the monsoon begins its journey across the Indian subcontinent year after year, and I've always loved the expectant darkness just before a monsoon shower, and the exhilaration and the poignancy that fill your soul on a rainy afternoon in June (or in October, during the retreating monsoon).
Despite the author's attempt to capture the spirit of the monsoon and the effect it has on the people and places it drenches, I found the book dry and unappetizing. There were a few factual inaccuracies that stood out, and plenty of poverty porn - while in Mumbai, the author stares at a poor homeless woman nursing her infant on the pavement and tries to guess her age from the 'roundness' of her breast. His descriptions of Indian women seem voyeuristic and he often alludes to the 'gifts' that the British gave India during their colonial subjugation of its people. Another aspect that did not appeal to me was how he seemed to justify the proselytization of New World populations as a sort of redemption from savagery and culturelessness. In fact, while in Mumbai, where he had an unpleasant encounter with a couple of locals, he mentions that their eyes reminded him of the eyes of the 'cannibals' that his grandfather had converted to Christianity.
Perhaps my review is a little harsh, but then again, rather than a refreshing account of the monsoons, these are the things that remained in my memory after I had finished the book.
Despite the author's attempt to capture the spirit of the monsoon and the effect it has on the people and places it drenches, I found the book dry and unappetizing. There were a few factual inaccuracies that stood out, and plenty of poverty porn - while in Mumbai, the author stares at a poor homeless woman nursing her infant on the pavement and tries to guess her age from the 'roundness' of her breast. His descriptions of Indian women seem voyeuristic and he often alludes to the 'gifts' that the British gave India during their colonial subjugation of its people. Another aspect that did not appeal to me was how he seemed to justify the proselytization of New World populations as a sort of redemption from savagery and culturelessness. In fact, while in Mumbai, where he had an unpleasant encounter with a couple of locals, he mentions that their eyes reminded him of the eyes of the 'cannibals' that his grandfather had converted to Christianity.
Perhaps my review is a little harsh, but then again, rather than a refreshing account of the monsoons, these are the things that remained in my memory after I had finished the book.
October 7, 2022
“As a romantic ideal, turbulent, impoverished India could still weave its spell, and the key to it all - the colours, the moods, the scents, the subtle, mysterious light, the poetry, the heightened expectations, the kind of beauty that made your heart miss a beat - well, that remained the monsoon.”
Alexander Frater's book is an ode to the Indian Monsoon and a mirror to our society as seen through the eyes of a foreigner. One of the best travellouges I have ever read! It brings together history(and geography), research(and beliefs) and the deep emotions of the land around this yearly unpredictable phenomenon.
The author while capturing the newspaper stories when in a particular city (in 1980s) gives us a sense of what is important at that point of time. In the sense, Mr.Frater does not pass judgements and is just holding a mirror to things for us just the way he sees it. I remember watching on DD debates on monsoon delays and newspaper headlines around it's arrival and hence see how big a deal it was. I guess even today it is as important, but it gets drowned out in the noise of social media.
The bueraucracy of the Indian administrative layer also came out in the travellogue with meetings, influences and red tapes. Mr.Frater doesn't mind naming people, the discussions and hence makes it authentic. I wonder if the people involved got the memo.
I had visited all the places except Dheej in the travellogue including Cheerapunji and Allepy and hence I was also contrasting my impressions with his. Agreed, mine were not around Monsoons and almost 25 years later, but the essential elements of the what makes a place unique stood out. The chapters in Delhi loo with the anticipation of rain made me feel stressed. And when the monsoon does come - in Mumbai, in Cochin and in Calcutta - you feel joy and elation.
The writing is so powerful you can smell the land after the rains. I also was fortunate enough to travel along with the book to some of the places Allepy, Cochin, Kolkata and Mumbai and hence compare notes. The author's own personal history of his father, his mother and the background of war was engrossing. You get a sense of getting to know a person really well while reading the book. You envy the author for his experiences and feel joy everytime you encounter the monsoon rains.
This is the best romantic novel I've ever read. Period.
Alexander Frater's book is an ode to the Indian Monsoon and a mirror to our society as seen through the eyes of a foreigner. One of the best travellouges I have ever read! It brings together history(and geography), research(and beliefs) and the deep emotions of the land around this yearly unpredictable phenomenon.
The author while capturing the newspaper stories when in a particular city (in 1980s) gives us a sense of what is important at that point of time. In the sense, Mr.Frater does not pass judgements and is just holding a mirror to things for us just the way he sees it. I remember watching on DD debates on monsoon delays and newspaper headlines around it's arrival and hence see how big a deal it was. I guess even today it is as important, but it gets drowned out in the noise of social media.
The bueraucracy of the Indian administrative layer also came out in the travellogue with meetings, influences and red tapes. Mr.Frater doesn't mind naming people, the discussions and hence makes it authentic. I wonder if the people involved got the memo.
I had visited all the places except Dheej in the travellogue including Cheerapunji and Allepy and hence I was also contrasting my impressions with his. Agreed, mine were not around Monsoons and almost 25 years later, but the essential elements of the what makes a place unique stood out. The chapters in Delhi loo with the anticipation of rain made me feel stressed. And when the monsoon does come - in Mumbai, in Cochin and in Calcutta - you feel joy and elation.
The writing is so powerful you can smell the land after the rains. I also was fortunate enough to travel along with the book to some of the places Allepy, Cochin, Kolkata and Mumbai and hence compare notes. The author's own personal history of his father, his mother and the background of war was engrossing. You get a sense of getting to know a person really well while reading the book. You envy the author for his experiences and feel joy everytime you encounter the monsoon rains.
This is the best romantic novel I've ever read. Period.
January 29, 2012
I have read this book several times, usually as a summer read at the beach, and each time I am transported to alluring and exotic places and times by Frater's colorful descriptions and lyrical prose. The binding of my original copy is broken, with the pages - stained with sweat, tanning oil, seawater, sand and muck - secured between the covers by means of a large rubber band. Yet the experience of reading the battered pages while sweltering in the heat and humidity of a summer's day along the Florida coast only amplifies the gritty beauty of India and the air of anxious anticipation for the arrival of the monsoon rains. Truly a brilliant and inspiring travelogue!
February 9, 2012
I loved this book!! We found it in a stack of books marked "free" on someone's lawn as we walked home from the market. We liked the look of the cover and because it is a Penguin book decided to give it a try. We. Couldn't. Put. It. Down.
Half memoir, half travel diary, it is wonderfully paced. How wonderful to get a completely different view of rain. At one point in Bombay, there is a lovely picture of a little girl leaping around in the pouring rain and happily calling to her father, "I'm cold!! I'm cold!!" Ha. I wonder if this girl now travels in the summer to distant places so she can be cold - the way we northerners seek out tropical beaches when cold snowy winds are howling.
Mostly, the book is about weather, visas, the Indian people and the fabulous adventure of getting from place to place in India. But (because I have a one-track mind) I was particularly taken with two stunning sections on mangoes:
The first one when he was in Bombay:
The second one when he was in Calcutta:
Because we found this book, we signed the back and mailed it to my sister, with the instructions that after she has read it, she sign the back of the book and give it to someone else who will want to read it.
Half memoir, half travel diary, it is wonderfully paced. How wonderful to get a completely different view of rain. At one point in Bombay, there is a lovely picture of a little girl leaping around in the pouring rain and happily calling to her father, "I'm cold!! I'm cold!!" Ha. I wonder if this girl now travels in the summer to distant places so she can be cold - the way we northerners seek out tropical beaches when cold snowy winds are howling.
Mostly, the book is about weather, visas, the Indian people and the fabulous adventure of getting from place to place in India. But (because I have a one-track mind) I was particularly taken with two stunning sections on mangoes:
The first one when he was in Bombay:
In the coffee shop a waitress said, 'Of course I will bring beer if you insist, but I think you should try the mangoes.' She looked like a beauty queen and her expression was earnest and quizzical.
'I actually wanted a drink,' I said.
'We put them in blender and you half-sip, half-eat with a spoon.'
I ordered the mangoes.
[...]
The waitress returned and set a tall glass before me. 'There we are, the classic fruit of the monsoon,' she said, then stood back with folded arms, watching. The contents of the glass were a warm, glowing orange; faint hints of fire indicated that perhaps crystals from the sun had been dropped like sugar lumps into the blender too. It smelled of flowers and, mixed in with the wonderful mango tastes, the fruit gave off hints of cinnamon and rare spices. I finished every last drop.
'They were absolutely the best I've ever had,' I said.
She smiled and touched my hand. 'That will please my father,' she said. 'Early this morning I picked them in his garden.'
(p 143)
The second one when he was in Calcutta:
[F]our [journalists] were lunching at the table next to mine, three local men and a visiting Australian. The Aussie wanted to talk about affairs of state, about the Gandhi dynasty and the future of the Congress Party, but he couldn't get a word in edgeways because the Indians were arguing about mangoes.
One proclaimed, 'The Alfonso is peerless. It has the most wonderful spicy taste and a texture similar to the peach. It is-'
'No, no!' said a colleague. 'The Langra, the lovely one-legged Langra, is indisputably greater. It's sweetness is legendary. The flesh is so piquant, the aftertaste better even than a Today wine.'
The third said, 'I get rose petals in the Langra.'
'But you get rose petals in the Alfonso,' said the first. 'Also a hint of honeysuckle. And may I remind you that Alfonso is the official Harrods mango?'
The other laughed. 'That means only that it travels well,' said one. 'Like frozen mutton.' He added, 'I also get rose petals in the Daseri.'
'Ah, the Daseri! Yes a Daseri from a good garden in not a bad mango but it is over now. It is really pre-monsoon.'
A waiter joined in . He said, 'Gentlemen, we have Safedas on pudding trolley.'
The Indians looked at him with interest.
'Ripe?' asked one.
'Ripe?' intoned the waiter. 'Sir, they are perfection. God has intended them for eating this very day.'
The baffled Australian sipped his beer. 'You blokes are worse than a bunch of bloody wine buffs,' he said.
'Arthur, this is a serious matter,' said the man who had started the argument. 'We are speaking of the most noble fruit on earth. It is one of the jewels in India's crown, bequeathed to us each year by the monsoon, and it arouses strong passions in all of us. You must have a Safeda for you pudding, though bear in mind that it is not one of the truly great mangoes. It is large and very sweet-'
[...]
The Australian, visibly steeling himself, began talking about politics. His companions sighed softly. I called for my bill and left.
(p 221-223)
Because we found this book, we signed the back and mailed it to my sister, with the instructions that after she has read it, she sign the back of the book and give it to someone else who will want to read it.
February 8, 2017
I enjoyed book, without pushing on to a 5* (a lot of reviewers loved it, which had given me high expectations), but it was easy to read, and passed on information in a comfortable way.
Not only writing about his travel in India, travelling with the monsoon, starting in Kerala, moving north and ending Cherrapunji (Meghalaya) the author also writes a lot about his early life in Vanuatu (the New Hebrides, as it was called at the time), with his father and grandfather, who were prominent figures there.
He meets interesting people, he visits some more out of the way sights, he talks about the monsoon. It is interesting for the fact he doesn't resort to repeating himself too much - I mean, it is a book about the monsoon, so yes he talks about that a lot...
For me his bureaucratic battle to visit Cherrapunji and Shillong in Meghalaya was alone worth the read. There is something so 'India' about that.
P199 " You could see the fellows at Foreigners Regional Registration Office, They might chaneg this ruling. - I've already been there. Twice. - Well, so be it. - Mr Rao, what's my file number? - I cannot give you that. It's confidential. - You could give it to them. - Impossible."
Not only writing about his travel in India, travelling with the monsoon, starting in Kerala, moving north and ending Cherrapunji (Meghalaya) the author also writes a lot about his early life in Vanuatu (the New Hebrides, as it was called at the time), with his father and grandfather, who were prominent figures there.
He meets interesting people, he visits some more out of the way sights, he talks about the monsoon. It is interesting for the fact he doesn't resort to repeating himself too much - I mean, it is a book about the monsoon, so yes he talks about that a lot...
For me his bureaucratic battle to visit Cherrapunji and Shillong in Meghalaya was alone worth the read. There is something so 'India' about that.
P199 " You could see the fellows at Foreigners Regional Registration Office, They might chaneg this ruling. - I've already been there. Twice. - Well, so be it. - Mr Rao, what's my file number? - I cannot give you that. It's confidential. - You could give it to them. - Impossible."
April 25, 2022
This book was recommended to me many years ago by my Goodreads friend Nandakishore and, my to-read list being what it is (currently 800+), I only just got around to it. I’m glad I finally did though, so thanks, Nandakishore. This was entertaining and educational, sometimes amazing and often amusing, and taught me a lot about things about which I knew absolutely nothing.
The annual return of the monsoon each summer in India is an occasion of great anticipation, even anxiety, where drought can be a lethal event. When it arrives, it is mostly a cause of great joy and celebration. Upon the commencement of the eagerly-awaited tempest in a place called Cochin where a group of executives were meeting, Frater says
“I witnessed an astonishing scene. Two straining waiters held the coffee-shop door open while a party of men and women filed into the storm. The men wore button-down shirts and sharp business suits, the women best-quality silk saris and high-heeled shoes; as they emerged, they opened their arms and lifted their faces to the rain.
The Spice Board had some out to greet the monsoon.
They made for the jetty, strolling, laughing out loud, calling, revolving slowly in a kind of dreamlike gavotte. In the gazebo, they stood knee-deep in seething water while the wind blew spiraling flumes of rain up over the peak of the disintegrating roof; the flumes united there in a fountainhead which, along with the tiles, kept getting snatched away. Buffeted by the gusts, unbalanced by the waves, the Spice Board executives clung to each another with water in their eyes and looks of sublime happiness on their faces. A young woman in a soaked and flapping gold-coloured sari laughed at me and clapped her hands. ‘Paradise will be like this’ she shouted.”
Although not everyone is a fan, given the massive inconvenience that much water all at one time can bring to the very poor and those having to work in certain industries. As a manager of Ocean Containers told Frater,
“It slows us up. You can’t load containers on the ships because they start spinning in the wind . . . And it’s the time mildew grows on books; when your Complete Works of Shakespeare starts turning pea green a certain melancholy, inevitably, sets in.”
Frater, an author and one-time travel writer for the London Observer, undertook a project to follow the Indian monsoon for two months, describing the meteorological performance and the people and places he encountered before and during this intensely soggy season. He plotted an itinerary that followed the 1987 monsoon from its beginning at the southern tip of India, up the coast to Bombay, inland to Delhi and east to Calcutta, Bangladesh, and finally Cherrapunji (billed as the “wettest place on earth”). There are many adventures along the way: he observes and meets the locals and other travelers, copes with Kafkaesque travel permit issues, and experiences frequent power failures and their consequences, as well as terrifying vehicular and aviation passages through the deluged country. The man is fearless.
The writing is wonderful, with vivid, colorful, almost surreally exotic depictions of Indian life, at least to this narrowly-traveled, middle-class, suburban American woman. There are lovely descriptions of the landscape, the moods of the weather and its practical and emotional effect on the people, colorful anecdotes about encounters with government officials, poets, meteorologists, hospitality workers, transportation providers, and other travelers. He also relates historical incidents related to previous monsoons going back several centuries. All in all, a fascinating story.
The annual return of the monsoon each summer in India is an occasion of great anticipation, even anxiety, where drought can be a lethal event. When it arrives, it is mostly a cause of great joy and celebration. Upon the commencement of the eagerly-awaited tempest in a place called Cochin where a group of executives were meeting, Frater says
“I witnessed an astonishing scene. Two straining waiters held the coffee-shop door open while a party of men and women filed into the storm. The men wore button-down shirts and sharp business suits, the women best-quality silk saris and high-heeled shoes; as they emerged, they opened their arms and lifted their faces to the rain.
The Spice Board had some out to greet the monsoon.
They made for the jetty, strolling, laughing out loud, calling, revolving slowly in a kind of dreamlike gavotte. In the gazebo, they stood knee-deep in seething water while the wind blew spiraling flumes of rain up over the peak of the disintegrating roof; the flumes united there in a fountainhead which, along with the tiles, kept getting snatched away. Buffeted by the gusts, unbalanced by the waves, the Spice Board executives clung to each another with water in their eyes and looks of sublime happiness on their faces. A young woman in a soaked and flapping gold-coloured sari laughed at me and clapped her hands. ‘Paradise will be like this’ she shouted.”
Although not everyone is a fan, given the massive inconvenience that much water all at one time can bring to the very poor and those having to work in certain industries. As a manager of Ocean Containers told Frater,
“It slows us up. You can’t load containers on the ships because they start spinning in the wind . . . And it’s the time mildew grows on books; when your Complete Works of Shakespeare starts turning pea green a certain melancholy, inevitably, sets in.”
Frater, an author and one-time travel writer for the London Observer, undertook a project to follow the Indian monsoon for two months, describing the meteorological performance and the people and places he encountered before and during this intensely soggy season. He plotted an itinerary that followed the 1987 monsoon from its beginning at the southern tip of India, up the coast to Bombay, inland to Delhi and east to Calcutta, Bangladesh, and finally Cherrapunji (billed as the “wettest place on earth”). There are many adventures along the way: he observes and meets the locals and other travelers, copes with Kafkaesque travel permit issues, and experiences frequent power failures and their consequences, as well as terrifying vehicular and aviation passages through the deluged country. The man is fearless.
The writing is wonderful, with vivid, colorful, almost surreally exotic depictions of Indian life, at least to this narrowly-traveled, middle-class, suburban American woman. There are lovely descriptions of the landscape, the moods of the weather and its practical and emotional effect on the people, colorful anecdotes about encounters with government officials, poets, meteorologists, hospitality workers, transportation providers, and other travelers. He also relates historical incidents related to previous monsoons going back several centuries. All in all, a fascinating story.
April 7, 2015
An affectionate romp through India as refreshing as a monsoon burst after the heat of summer. Frater has all of V.S. Naipaul's ear for dialog and eye for telling little details, without the cynicism and bitterness. I love books that focus on one weird theme and then mix in people, places, history and science. This one was great fun and sometimes surprisingly moving.
Chasing The Monsoon is the third travelog-type book I've read for the HBC India Challenge, all based on trips made during the late 1980s, and I'm now convinced that authors find the India and the people they are looking for--and with over a billion square miles of territory and 1.2 billion people to choose from, that is probably to be expected. V.S. Naipaul was looking for the disaffected and found them by the dozen; Elisabeth Bumiller was looking for downtrodden women and found them, too; Frater seems the most open of the three, looking simply for the way in which India experiences the monsoon--and what he finds is a special kind of delight.
Here's a little taste: On Kovalam Beach near the southern tip of India, the Southwest spring monsoon is expected to make first landfall. In the scorching heat a line of spectators from all over India has formed to await the glorious moment.
"They were dressed with surprising formality, many of the men wearing ties and the women fine saris which streamed and snapped in the wind. Their excitement was shared and sharply focused, like that of a committee preparing to greet a celebrated spiritual leader or a victorious general who would come riding up on the beach on an elephant....The sky was black, the sea white. Foaming like champagne it surged over the road....We stood rocking in the blast, clinging to each other amid scenes of great merriment...A tall pale-skinned man next to me shouted, 'Sir, where are you from?'
'England!' I yelled....
'And what brings you here?'
'This!'
'Sir, us also! We are holiday makers! I myself am from Delhi. This lady beside me is from Bangalore and we too have come to see the show!'
....Thunder boomed. Lighting went zapping into the sea....Then beyond the cumuliform anvils and soaring castellanus turrets we saw a broad ragged band of luminous indigo heading slowly inshore....
'The rains!' everyone sang....
The wind struck us with a force that made our line bend and waver. Everyone shrieked and grabbed at each other...
The deluge began."
Chasing The Monsoon is the third travelog-type book I've read for the HBC India Challenge, all based on trips made during the late 1980s, and I'm now convinced that authors find the India and the people they are looking for--and with over a billion square miles of territory and 1.2 billion people to choose from, that is probably to be expected. V.S. Naipaul was looking for the disaffected and found them by the dozen; Elisabeth Bumiller was looking for downtrodden women and found them, too; Frater seems the most open of the three, looking simply for the way in which India experiences the monsoon--and what he finds is a special kind of delight.
Here's a little taste: On Kovalam Beach near the southern tip of India, the Southwest spring monsoon is expected to make first landfall. In the scorching heat a line of spectators from all over India has formed to await the glorious moment.
"They were dressed with surprising formality, many of the men wearing ties and the women fine saris which streamed and snapped in the wind. Their excitement was shared and sharply focused, like that of a committee preparing to greet a celebrated spiritual leader or a victorious general who would come riding up on the beach on an elephant....The sky was black, the sea white. Foaming like champagne it surged over the road....We stood rocking in the blast, clinging to each other amid scenes of great merriment...A tall pale-skinned man next to me shouted, 'Sir, where are you from?'
'England!' I yelled....
'And what brings you here?'
'This!'
'Sir, us also! We are holiday makers! I myself am from Delhi. This lady beside me is from Bangalore and we too have come to see the show!'
....Thunder boomed. Lighting went zapping into the sea....Then beyond the cumuliform anvils and soaring castellanus turrets we saw a broad ragged band of luminous indigo heading slowly inshore....
'The rains!' everyone sang....
The wind struck us with a force that made our line bend and waver. Everyone shrieked and grabbed at each other...
The deluge began."
September 13, 2021
There is something sad about reading a book about rain while living not only in a desert, but a desert facing an extraordinary drought. Alexander Frater's Chasing The Monsoon is about one year's monsoon on the Indian subcontinent. Frater flies to the southern tip of India, Trivandrum at Cape Comorin, where he watches out for the onset of the monsoon and proceeds to follow it up the Malabar Coast to Bombay. From there, he flies to Bombay to get the seemingly impossible permission to visit Shillong and Cherrapunji -- two of the wettest places on earth -- to view the eastern arm of the monsoon. He obtains the permission and manages to meet his goals for this book.
I think it is worth reading, but remember: For a desert dweller, reading about rain is a form of porn.
I think it is worth reading, but remember: For a desert dweller, reading about rain is a form of porn.
June 28, 2013
'Chasing the Monsoon' is a travel book by Alexander Frater where he describes his journey through India following the Indian monsoon. Travelling through many states and cities, he tells the stories of the people whose lives are touched upon by the monsoons. In a parallel track, he describes his childhood and how he inherited an interest towards nature and meteorology from his father and grand-father.
Frater starts in Trivandrum, Kerala where the monsoon arrives first and then moves upwards. Being from Kerala and having been there during that time I could experience the thrill and joy of Keralites before the arrival of monsoons which Frater describes in the book. He witnesses the country's first monsoon showers in the beautiful Kovalam beach. The beauty of 'God's own country' is magnified by the monsoons and Frater's attempt to portray them is commendable. The journey continues and he follows the monsoon to Goa and then Bombay. Along the way he is continuously trying to get permit to get into Cherrapunji, which was the wettest place on earth(currently it is Mawsynram) due to civil unrest. He gets entangled in the bureaucratic hierarchy but ultimately succeeds in getting a permit. Frater explains why Cherrapunji is close to his heart and hence wants it to be the place where the journey should culminate. The description of Cherrapunji is magnificent to say the least.
The beauty of the book is that even though he describes the romanticism of the Indian monsoons, he also makes a conscious effort to highlight the plight of many who face trouble during the rainy season. Both the aspects are complemented well.
A wonderful book.
Frater starts in Trivandrum, Kerala where the monsoon arrives first and then moves upwards. Being from Kerala and having been there during that time I could experience the thrill and joy of Keralites before the arrival of monsoons which Frater describes in the book. He witnesses the country's first monsoon showers in the beautiful Kovalam beach. The beauty of 'God's own country' is magnified by the monsoons and Frater's attempt to portray them is commendable. The journey continues and he follows the monsoon to Goa and then Bombay. Along the way he is continuously trying to get permit to get into Cherrapunji, which was the wettest place on earth(currently it is Mawsynram) due to civil unrest. He gets entangled in the bureaucratic hierarchy but ultimately succeeds in getting a permit. Frater explains why Cherrapunji is close to his heart and hence wants it to be the place where the journey should culminate. The description of Cherrapunji is magnificent to say the least.
The beauty of the book is that even though he describes the romanticism of the Indian monsoons, he also makes a conscious effort to highlight the plight of many who face trouble during the rainy season. Both the aspects are complemented well.
A wonderful book.
January 14, 2017
What an amazing journey this book has taken me on.. filling me up with a longing to visit the places that Frater travelled through while on his pursuit.. flooding my mind with countless memories of the monsoons that I grew up with. Frater's writing has an honest ring to it, and makes no effort to overly glamorize or condemn - a common pitfall when it comes to travelogues centred around India.
Most certainly a book that I will be re-visiting during many a coming monsoons! Highly recommended!
Most certainly a book that I will be re-visiting during many a coming monsoons! Highly recommended!
October 18, 2016
_Chasing the Monsoon_ by Alexander Frater was an enjoyable travel book, one that I read in just a few days. The author's intention, as one might guess from the title, was to follow the progress of the summer monsoon through India, beginning in the southernmost tip of the subcontinent, Cape Comorin, and following its progress up the west coast through Trivandrum, Calicut, Goa, and Bombay, then jetting over to Delhi, and then to experience the eastern arm of the monsoon (there are two arms, one in the east of India, one in the west) in Calcutta and in two places near Bangladesh, Shillong and Cherrapunji (there was a map illustrating his route).
Frater began the book discussing his childhood in the New Hebrides, a group of islands in the South Pacific jointly administered at one time by both France and the United Kingdom, how growing up his missionary father helped instill in him a fascination for weather. His father had talked about one of the rainiest spots on Earth, Cherrapunji, India, which was known at the height of the monsoon season in July to get as much as 75 feet of rain, though more often in the 30 to 40 foot range, receiving as much as 40 inches in one day. Though Frater's father never visited Cherrapunji and lost interest in meteorology due to mounting family financial problems and the Second World War, Alexander himself never completely lost interest in the weather.
After relating how he finally decided to follow the monsoon in the summer of 1987 and if possible visit Cherrapunji, he detailed his pilgrimage throughout India. Though Frater did discuss some of the science of the monsoon and in particular the history of its study (noting such famous researchers as H.F. Blandford, who beginning in 1875 became the first of a line of India-based climatologists who studied the monsoon and Sir John Eliot, his successor, often called the "father of monsoon studies"), the book is more a travel than a popular science book, detailing what Frater saw in India and in particular local reactions to the monsoon (or its unfortunate absence in drought-stricken parts of the country).
Throughout most of India, the onset of the monsoon rains, the "burst," was eagerly anticipated, the arrival of life-giving rains and cooler weather celebrated for centuries in art, poetry, and song. Frater visited remarkable pavilions, palaces, gardens, and fountains where the very wealthy had in the past had sought to recreated the cooling rains of the monsoon during times of heat and aridity.
Though many cities and regions have unofficial dates when the monsoon is supposed to begin - for instance around June 5 in Goa - the actual advance of the rains is unpredictable, subject to much discussion and even heated debate on the street, with many people hanging on every word of travelers to areas already experiencing monsoon rains, meteorologists, and even astrologers. I must say I was rather surprised that the monsoon traveled slowly enough through India that Frater for the most part was able to keep ahead of it, as while the first burst over Cape Comorin occurs generally around June 1, it is nearly July 1 before it reaches Delhi (if it reaches it at all; Frater chronicled how the monsoon rains had failed to arrive in recent years). Overall Frater did an excellent job of conveying the tense atmosphere of expectation among those waiting for the rains and the sense of relief and jubilation once they had arrived.
When the rains did arrive there was often great rejoicing with almost unofficial holidays in many parts of the country. Even in businesses that did not close had workers from cashiers and waiters up to expensively dressed businessmen and women running outside to cavort in the rain. Adults and children played in the rains, planned parties celebrating it, and even not unlike Frater himself planned trips to see it (the author wrote of oil-rich wealthy Middle Easterners flying on their private jets to India to witness such vast amounts of rain for themselves).
Additionally, people associated the monsoon with cures for a variety of ailments. The "monsoon cure," which could be anything from specific diets to being massaged in special oils to meditation with the onset of the rains, was big business, particularly in western India.
So important were the rains in providing a relief from the heat, watering crops, filling wells, and regenerating lakes and rivers, that much like with the monsoon cures an entire industry existed to ensure the arrival of the rains, ranging from ceremonial well diving to crackpot inventors to cloud-seeding with aircraft to singing ancient songs called ragas, composed especially to bring on the monsoonal rains.
Not everyone welcomed the monsoon. Frater detailed the great difficulties of officials in Calcutta in handling the floods brought about by the monsoon, and hinted at but didn't go into detail about the massive floods in Bangladesh the rains often brought. Fishermen and sailors often couldn't work in the high seas, cyclones, and driving rain during the height of the monsoon and pilots often had great difficulty flying in monsoon weather. Back when India was a British possession some Englishmen became depressed, alcoholic, or even committed suicide due to the rains.
A portion of the book detailed Frater's attempts to get permission from Delhi to visit Cherrapunji, as it was located in a region subject to anti-immigrant riots and fighting (something he might have gone a little bit more into). As foreign travel and even travel by Indians themselves to that area was tightly controlled, Frater had to navigate the intricate, complex, positively Byzantine corridors of Indian bureaucracy. This theme seems to be a common element of Indian travel writing, a topic addressed also in _An Area of Darkness_ by V.S. Naipaul and _The Search for the Pink-headed Duck_ by Rory Nugent.
Though I would have liked a bit more science and maybe some photos, overall I enjoyed the book.
Frater began the book discussing his childhood in the New Hebrides, a group of islands in the South Pacific jointly administered at one time by both France and the United Kingdom, how growing up his missionary father helped instill in him a fascination for weather. His father had talked about one of the rainiest spots on Earth, Cherrapunji, India, which was known at the height of the monsoon season in July to get as much as 75 feet of rain, though more often in the 30 to 40 foot range, receiving as much as 40 inches in one day. Though Frater's father never visited Cherrapunji and lost interest in meteorology due to mounting family financial problems and the Second World War, Alexander himself never completely lost interest in the weather.
After relating how he finally decided to follow the monsoon in the summer of 1987 and if possible visit Cherrapunji, he detailed his pilgrimage throughout India. Though Frater did discuss some of the science of the monsoon and in particular the history of its study (noting such famous researchers as H.F. Blandford, who beginning in 1875 became the first of a line of India-based climatologists who studied the monsoon and Sir John Eliot, his successor, often called the "father of monsoon studies"), the book is more a travel than a popular science book, detailing what Frater saw in India and in particular local reactions to the monsoon (or its unfortunate absence in drought-stricken parts of the country).
Throughout most of India, the onset of the monsoon rains, the "burst," was eagerly anticipated, the arrival of life-giving rains and cooler weather celebrated for centuries in art, poetry, and song. Frater visited remarkable pavilions, palaces, gardens, and fountains where the very wealthy had in the past had sought to recreated the cooling rains of the monsoon during times of heat and aridity.
Though many cities and regions have unofficial dates when the monsoon is supposed to begin - for instance around June 5 in Goa - the actual advance of the rains is unpredictable, subject to much discussion and even heated debate on the street, with many people hanging on every word of travelers to areas already experiencing monsoon rains, meteorologists, and even astrologers. I must say I was rather surprised that the monsoon traveled slowly enough through India that Frater for the most part was able to keep ahead of it, as while the first burst over Cape Comorin occurs generally around June 1, it is nearly July 1 before it reaches Delhi (if it reaches it at all; Frater chronicled how the monsoon rains had failed to arrive in recent years). Overall Frater did an excellent job of conveying the tense atmosphere of expectation among those waiting for the rains and the sense of relief and jubilation once they had arrived.
When the rains did arrive there was often great rejoicing with almost unofficial holidays in many parts of the country. Even in businesses that did not close had workers from cashiers and waiters up to expensively dressed businessmen and women running outside to cavort in the rain. Adults and children played in the rains, planned parties celebrating it, and even not unlike Frater himself planned trips to see it (the author wrote of oil-rich wealthy Middle Easterners flying on their private jets to India to witness such vast amounts of rain for themselves).
Additionally, people associated the monsoon with cures for a variety of ailments. The "monsoon cure," which could be anything from specific diets to being massaged in special oils to meditation with the onset of the rains, was big business, particularly in western India.
So important were the rains in providing a relief from the heat, watering crops, filling wells, and regenerating lakes and rivers, that much like with the monsoon cures an entire industry existed to ensure the arrival of the rains, ranging from ceremonial well diving to crackpot inventors to cloud-seeding with aircraft to singing ancient songs called ragas, composed especially to bring on the monsoonal rains.
Not everyone welcomed the monsoon. Frater detailed the great difficulties of officials in Calcutta in handling the floods brought about by the monsoon, and hinted at but didn't go into detail about the massive floods in Bangladesh the rains often brought. Fishermen and sailors often couldn't work in the high seas, cyclones, and driving rain during the height of the monsoon and pilots often had great difficulty flying in monsoon weather. Back when India was a British possession some Englishmen became depressed, alcoholic, or even committed suicide due to the rains.
A portion of the book detailed Frater's attempts to get permission from Delhi to visit Cherrapunji, as it was located in a region subject to anti-immigrant riots and fighting (something he might have gone a little bit more into). As foreign travel and even travel by Indians themselves to that area was tightly controlled, Frater had to navigate the intricate, complex, positively Byzantine corridors of Indian bureaucracy. This theme seems to be a common element of Indian travel writing, a topic addressed also in _An Area of Darkness_ by V.S. Naipaul and _The Search for the Pink-headed Duck_ by Rory Nugent.
Though I would have liked a bit more science and maybe some photos, overall I enjoyed the book.
July 8, 2017
This is magnificent. Alexander Frater, suffering from an odd medical condition in his upper spine - a sharp jolt could paralyze him permanently - travels with the South Asian monsoon from the southern tip of India up to the wettest place in the world, Cherrapunji, in the East Khasi Hills of northeastern India, which gets upwards of 38 feet of rain each year. This is also a journey deep into Frater's childhood - going to Cherrapunji was an unrealized dream of Frater's missionary doctor father - and, in a larger sense, into the fading imprint of British colonial rule around the world. Frater's practice seems to be to talk to everyone, and he ends up in fascinating and informative conversations, without straining to freight them with thematic significance, as so many travel writers do. What comes through strongly is Frater's respect for each person he interviews as an individual rather than as a type. Certain adventures are both funny and hair raising, even knowing that he survived to write the book.
The background theme of receding empire might have made aspects of the book feel dated even when it was first published 25 years ago. Frater quotes, reads about, and visits with figures from that vanished world far more than a boomer or millenial traveler likely would. But this minor focus feels in keeping with Frater's own life story. It would be illuminating to read a present day account by a gifted young Indian author following a similar route, traveling with the monsoon.
The background theme of receding empire might have made aspects of the book feel dated even when it was first published 25 years ago. Frater quotes, reads about, and visits with figures from that vanished world far more than a boomer or millenial traveler likely would. But this minor focus feels in keeping with Frater's own life story. It would be illuminating to read a present day account by a gifted young Indian author following a similar route, traveling with the monsoon.
April 22, 2021
Prompt: Featuring the Environment.
'Chasing the Monsoon' is very interesting, like a thriller. The monsoon is the culprit. It has stolen the imagination of the author. It has to be brought to book. But the monsoon is very fickle, assuming different dimensions. At one time, it appears as a sweetheart, at other times a brigand. Sometimes it is a much loved friend only to turn, soon, into a callous lover! Some speak of it as a troublesome relative, worse still, others liken it to a thief sneaking in at night. Unflustered by delays and denials, the author is steadfast. And he is rewarded for his patience by the best monsoon pilot!
Alexander Frater mentions each and every experience associated with monsoons in India. He is a prodigious writer and when he veers away from the chase, you long for him to get back. Chasing the monsoon is all of the following: part Travelogue, part Biography, part History, and part Geography.
I'm surprised, I can add a vignette of Indian life to this awesome collection, where I believe the author has not missed a single topic pertaining to Indian life; that of names associated with the natural phenomenon. My elder daughter is named 'Varsha', which in Sanskrit, means 'rains' or the rainy season, the Monsoon. My younger daughter, born in June, under the monsoon star, Mrig, is named Megha, a Sanskrit word, referring to a 'cloud'.
Unfortunately, in India, the romance of the monsoon is lost in the rigours of everyday life. And then I realised that it's been ages since I got soaked in the rains. That's my promise for this year's monsoons, even though I must contend with the retreating variety which hits my city Chennai in November.
'Chasing the Monsoon' is very interesting, like a thriller. The monsoon is the culprit. It has stolen the imagination of the author. It has to be brought to book. But the monsoon is very fickle, assuming different dimensions. At one time, it appears as a sweetheart, at other times a brigand. Sometimes it is a much loved friend only to turn, soon, into a callous lover! Some speak of it as a troublesome relative, worse still, others liken it to a thief sneaking in at night. Unflustered by delays and denials, the author is steadfast. And he is rewarded for his patience by the best monsoon pilot!
Alexander Frater mentions each and every experience associated with monsoons in India. He is a prodigious writer and when he veers away from the chase, you long for him to get back. Chasing the monsoon is all of the following: part Travelogue, part Biography, part History, and part Geography.
I'm surprised, I can add a vignette of Indian life to this awesome collection, where I believe the author has not missed a single topic pertaining to Indian life; that of names associated with the natural phenomenon. My elder daughter is named 'Varsha', which in Sanskrit, means 'rains' or the rainy season, the Monsoon. My younger daughter, born in June, under the monsoon star, Mrig, is named Megha, a Sanskrit word, referring to a 'cloud'.
Unfortunately, in India, the romance of the monsoon is lost in the rigours of everyday life. And then I realised that it's been ages since I got soaked in the rains. That's my promise for this year's monsoons, even though I must contend with the retreating variety which hits my city Chennai in November.
July 28, 2020
Sitting while the same monsoon that brings rain to Kerala is pouring over my town in Karnataka, as I read this book...I feel connected to the feel of monsoon, to the restlessness that prevails before the monsoon. But it also feels like there is so much more that has not been captured in the book. This book is literally about chasing the monsoon , simply following it through different cities. And cities in India where it rains heavily have the same problems today like the problems back in the time the book was written.
This book is also about the bureaucratic problems one faces if one needs any permission. Certainly for an outsider this book is a classic. As it offers a glimpse into how the heaviest monsoon in the country looks like. But I would also like to say that Indian monsoons encompass so much more, like the changing food that comes with monsoon, or the pure raw beaches in their wildest form during monsoons, or the rattling and scary thunderstorms that come with the first showers. One would have to live in a single place with the localites throughout the monsoon preferably in a rural setup to experience the monsoon fully. Else it remains incomplete.
This book is also about the bureaucratic problems one faces if one needs any permission. Certainly for an outsider this book is a classic. As it offers a glimpse into how the heaviest monsoon in the country looks like. But I would also like to say that Indian monsoons encompass so much more, like the changing food that comes with monsoon, or the pure raw beaches in their wildest form during monsoons, or the rattling and scary thunderstorms that come with the first showers. One would have to live in a single place with the localites throughout the monsoon preferably in a rural setup to experience the monsoon fully. Else it remains incomplete.
May 22, 2013
I am impressed by the amount of information that Alexander Frater tucks into this book, which reads like a gripping story. His information is from a variety of sources ranging from ancient historical works to facts shared by aircraft pilots who bravely fly through a monsoon. This book made me look back with nostalgia (I've been to all the places that Alex has been to in his pursuit of the monsoon) and forward with excitement (the monsoon should begin any time now!). I also learned that the bottle of orange honey someone gifted me at Cherrapunji is also used to embalm bodies when the monsoon is so thick and it's difficult to bury the dead! I use it to flavour oatmeal.
November 18, 2010
Frater has captured India's emotion filled response to this fantastic phenomenon. There are paragraphs that leave you feeling drenched and free. It is a refreshing travelogue with a lot of humour, facts, incidents and conversations spanning India and its people from Kanyakumari to Cherrapunji.
Yes, that’s what he has done; after welcoming the bursts at Trivandrum he has followed the south west arm of the Monsoon culminating this unique experience at Cherrapunji where he finally meets up with the eastern arm of the Monsoon
Yes, that’s what he has done; after welcoming the bursts at Trivandrum he has followed the south west arm of the Monsoon culminating this unique experience at Cherrapunji where he finally meets up with the eastern arm of the Monsoon
December 26, 2017
A very well researched book rich with facts and anecdotes from Frater's wonder incducing journey of following the monsoon across India. Starting at Kovalam all along the coast and where the westerly monsoon meets its counterpart in Cherrapunji.
It does get slow when the travelogue delves into the finer details, but it stays smooth otherwise. Great read.
It does get slow when the travelogue delves into the finer details, but it stays smooth otherwise. Great read.
July 21, 2024
A fun book to read if you like travel stories and to top it, it says a lot about monsoons, a subject that touches different heart strings for me. I had never thought about Monsoon the way this book observes it. A lot to learn and unlearn on how monsoons interact with lives, culture and fate!
December 28, 2014
The monsoon - a phenomenon that has India in a tizzy every year. To me personally, they are a treasure trove of memories, associated with the various Junes that have been part of my life - childhood, college days, work - different places and different times. So I picked this book with quite some interest.
Frater's prologue tells us about his intent and motivation, but I'm afraid it tends to get a bit technical and I wouldn't be surprised if people stopped reading the book because of it! But the chapters that follow are completely different, so do persevere. The first chapter is all about the immediate trigger that made the author set out - chasing the Indian monsoon from "where the rain is born" (to quote anita nair) to the wettest place on earth.
Trivandrum is where it all begins and the author captures the tension across the country around the beginning of the monsoon pretty well. The weather forecasters, astrologers, politicians, and even regular folks - all have their theories and perspectives. One of the things that makes the book really good is the author's reading and chronicling of the milieu he has been pulled into - sociocultural, economic, political and so on. His meeting with Kamala Das, the death of John Abraham, (Malayalam movie director) the Ambassador car's preeminence, all add flavour to the narrative.
I also have much to thank the author for - the little tutorial on Cochin and its history. (beginning from Nero who linked Rome to Kochi) I actually learned quite a bit of what lies behind the names of roads in a favourite part of the city. In fact, a large portion of the book is taken up by Kerala, justified because of its importance in the scheme of things in this context. Goa was next, and again, personally interesting for me. Bombay in the late 80s and its famous spirit can be clearly seen in the narrative. The anecdote of the mathematician who claimed to have made a -rain-maker' device, the conversation around rain-making music are all wonderful examples of the unique things that are built around the phenomenon. There's also a conversation with Pritish Nandy.
Delhi and its bureaucracy take the spotlight next, with some excitement around small trips, that also give glimpse of the poorest of the poor in India. The author's struggle to get to Cherrapunjee is also well chronicled and also simultaneously show the machine-like coldness of the bureaucracy and that one individual who goes out of the way to help. The part about Kolkata also makes for an interesting read, and so does the last section - Shillong (it had an airport then, albeit a barely functioning one) and further on Cherrapunjee. I could identify the places mentioned thanks to the recent trip.
There is a good amount of humour thrown in into the narration, and that adds to the overall easy tone of the book. That also makes the brief philosophical/geographical meanderings all the more delightful. It's quite a wonderful read, despite the technical details that intrude occasionally. Early in the book I realised that it was written in the late 80s, and that meant that like my favourite travelogues, this too involved time travel.
Frater's prologue tells us about his intent and motivation, but I'm afraid it tends to get a bit technical and I wouldn't be surprised if people stopped reading the book because of it! But the chapters that follow are completely different, so do persevere. The first chapter is all about the immediate trigger that made the author set out - chasing the Indian monsoon from "where the rain is born" (to quote anita nair) to the wettest place on earth.
Trivandrum is where it all begins and the author captures the tension across the country around the beginning of the monsoon pretty well. The weather forecasters, astrologers, politicians, and even regular folks - all have their theories and perspectives. One of the things that makes the book really good is the author's reading and chronicling of the milieu he has been pulled into - sociocultural, economic, political and so on. His meeting with Kamala Das, the death of John Abraham, (Malayalam movie director) the Ambassador car's preeminence, all add flavour to the narrative.
I also have much to thank the author for - the little tutorial on Cochin and its history. (beginning from Nero who linked Rome to Kochi) I actually learned quite a bit of what lies behind the names of roads in a favourite part of the city. In fact, a large portion of the book is taken up by Kerala, justified because of its importance in the scheme of things in this context. Goa was next, and again, personally interesting for me. Bombay in the late 80s and its famous spirit can be clearly seen in the narrative. The anecdote of the mathematician who claimed to have made a -rain-maker' device, the conversation around rain-making music are all wonderful examples of the unique things that are built around the phenomenon. There's also a conversation with Pritish Nandy.
Delhi and its bureaucracy take the spotlight next, with some excitement around small trips, that also give glimpse of the poorest of the poor in India. The author's struggle to get to Cherrapunjee is also well chronicled and also simultaneously show the machine-like coldness of the bureaucracy and that one individual who goes out of the way to help. The part about Kolkata also makes for an interesting read, and so does the last section - Shillong (it had an airport then, albeit a barely functioning one) and further on Cherrapunjee. I could identify the places mentioned thanks to the recent trip.
There is a good amount of humour thrown in into the narration, and that adds to the overall easy tone of the book. That also makes the brief philosophical/geographical meanderings all the more delightful. It's quite a wonderful read, despite the technical details that intrude occasionally. Early in the book I realised that it was written in the late 80s, and that meant that like my favourite travelogues, this too involved time travel.
January 12, 2008
Alexander Frater's book is a tribute to the phenomenon of the monsoon and the romance associated with it in the popular culture of India. Frater is on a journey through India with the sole aim of following the monsoon from the tip of the south western coast of India all the way along the west coast up north to Delhi and then hopping on to Calcutta and then on to Shillong in North East Meghalaya and then ending the 'pilgrimage' in Cherrapunji, the wettest place on earth which gets nearly 500 inches of rainfall a year.
Alex Frater brings out the importance of the monsoon to the people of India as he journeys on. For the rich people, it is a romantic event as they have parties welcoming the monsoon with whisky and wine and rejoicing in the company of family and friends in nice resorts. For the middle classes, it is at the same time a relief as well as a problem due to the enormous volume of water affecting their daily routines and plans. For the poor, it is God's punishment as nature's deluge washes away their roadside dwellings, leaving them with no cover and bringing diseases and death in its wake. But Frater puts everything in perspective, showing how in the millenniums, Indian culture has welcomed the monsoon through its arts, poetry, music and dance. Kings of the past who ruled in the waterless deserts of Rajasthan have built palaces in honour of the monsoon and artificially created the ambience associated with it. Ayurveda, the Indian medicinal system, takes into account the impact of the monsoon on the psyche of a patient and pronounces treatment accordingly. Classical Indian music has specific ragas associated with the monsoon to bring about the deluge of rain. There are paintings in the past that are dedicated to the phenomenon of the monsoon. Frater touches upon all these aspects as he travels following the monsoon.
One of the inetersting asides in the book is the struggle of Frater in securing permission from the Indian bureaucracy to visit Cherrapunji in North East India, the wettest place on Earth. The struggle brings out both the good and the bad in Indian public life. But Frater is mostly focussed on the positive side of it as he finally succeeds in visiting Cherrapunji even though an insurgency was going on there against outsiders (read Bangladeshis and Nepalis). The funny part of it is that after he returns to England, he gets a letter from the Indian External affairs ministry declining permission for him to visit Cherrapunji and regretting it!
To me, the book was a revelation of how much the monsoon means to us Indians as a people. I think the idea of chasing the monsoon across India itself is a great romantic thought and one has to give credit to Alex Frater in carrying it out in spite of many dangers and problems. It is an enjoyable narrative, often interspersed with solid meteorological and other scientific details. I would recommend the book for anyone inetersted in the phenomenon of the monsoon as well as in India as a culture.
Alex Frater brings out the importance of the monsoon to the people of India as he journeys on. For the rich people, it is a romantic event as they have parties welcoming the monsoon with whisky and wine and rejoicing in the company of family and friends in nice resorts. For the middle classes, it is at the same time a relief as well as a problem due to the enormous volume of water affecting their daily routines and plans. For the poor, it is God's punishment as nature's deluge washes away their roadside dwellings, leaving them with no cover and bringing diseases and death in its wake. But Frater puts everything in perspective, showing how in the millenniums, Indian culture has welcomed the monsoon through its arts, poetry, music and dance. Kings of the past who ruled in the waterless deserts of Rajasthan have built palaces in honour of the monsoon and artificially created the ambience associated with it. Ayurveda, the Indian medicinal system, takes into account the impact of the monsoon on the psyche of a patient and pronounces treatment accordingly. Classical Indian music has specific ragas associated with the monsoon to bring about the deluge of rain. There are paintings in the past that are dedicated to the phenomenon of the monsoon. Frater touches upon all these aspects as he travels following the monsoon.
One of the inetersting asides in the book is the struggle of Frater in securing permission from the Indian bureaucracy to visit Cherrapunji in North East India, the wettest place on Earth. The struggle brings out both the good and the bad in Indian public life. But Frater is mostly focussed on the positive side of it as he finally succeeds in visiting Cherrapunji even though an insurgency was going on there against outsiders (read Bangladeshis and Nepalis). The funny part of it is that after he returns to England, he gets a letter from the Indian External affairs ministry declining permission for him to visit Cherrapunji and regretting it!
To me, the book was a revelation of how much the monsoon means to us Indians as a people. I think the idea of chasing the monsoon across India itself is a great romantic thought and one has to give credit to Alex Frater in carrying it out in spite of many dangers and problems. It is an enjoyable narrative, often interspersed with solid meteorological and other scientific details. I would recommend the book for anyone inetersted in the phenomenon of the monsoon as well as in India as a culture.
December 29, 2014
“Chasing the Monsoon” was a captivating title for me, it was a long awaited read and it was worth the wait.
This book captures author’s journey following monsoon from Kerala to Cherrapunji which got sparked off by an unexpected conversation when meeting an Indian couple at London and Alexander Frater’s fascination towards a nostalgic wall hung portrait of Cherrapunji during his young age.
Book started off promisingly, topics like arrival of monsoon to the south western shore (Kovalam Beach) being a talk of the town, how each and every individual is curious about the onset of seasonal monsoon also irrespective of one’s occupation people are constantly updating themselves about the monsoon arrival date is explained vividly, here we get to see the emotional attachment of people with the monsoon and how superstitious they become at times also author has encapsulated the significance monsoon has gained among other weathers because people welcome the first shower with so much grenadier and celebration, parallely the tension mounting in metrological office is a splendid thing to know all these set in time period of late eighties of 20th century.
We do get to know how Indian bureaucracy functioned during those days also its effect on author’s scheme of chasing the monsoon indeed it was successful in making me smile while at last few pages nevertheless this bureaucratic hurdle kept me hooked all the way, it was kind of suspense while I progressed through the book.
I always wanted to know how it rained in Cherrapunji for which I got the below mentioned lines from the book:
“I watched the approach of the Cherrapunji rain.
A fountain of dense black cloud came spiraling over the hills, then rose steeply into the sky. It formed a kind of tent, apex high overhead, sides unrolling right to the ground. It was very dark inside but I could just discern, trooping towards us, an armada of shadowy, galleon-like vessels with undersides festooned with writhing cables of water. They gave off thundery rumbles and a noise like discharging hydrants, the rain descending in hissing vertical rafts of solid matter that lathered the earth and made the spokes of the poet’s umbrella, under which I had taken shelter, bend like saplings.”
It was a treat reading about Cherrapunji and equally engrossing, I was awestruck by the special use of orange flavored honey in Cherrapunji for embalming; overall this was a beautiful read.
This book captures author’s journey following monsoon from Kerala to Cherrapunji which got sparked off by an unexpected conversation when meeting an Indian couple at London and Alexander Frater’s fascination towards a nostalgic wall hung portrait of Cherrapunji during his young age.
Book started off promisingly, topics like arrival of monsoon to the south western shore (Kovalam Beach) being a talk of the town, how each and every individual is curious about the onset of seasonal monsoon also irrespective of one’s occupation people are constantly updating themselves about the monsoon arrival date is explained vividly, here we get to see the emotional attachment of people with the monsoon and how superstitious they become at times also author has encapsulated the significance monsoon has gained among other weathers because people welcome the first shower with so much grenadier and celebration, parallely the tension mounting in metrological office is a splendid thing to know all these set in time period of late eighties of 20th century.
We do get to know how Indian bureaucracy functioned during those days also its effect on author’s scheme of chasing the monsoon indeed it was successful in making me smile while at last few pages nevertheless this bureaucratic hurdle kept me hooked all the way, it was kind of suspense while I progressed through the book.
I always wanted to know how it rained in Cherrapunji for which I got the below mentioned lines from the book:
“I watched the approach of the Cherrapunji rain.
A fountain of dense black cloud came spiraling over the hills, then rose steeply into the sky. It formed a kind of tent, apex high overhead, sides unrolling right to the ground. It was very dark inside but I could just discern, trooping towards us, an armada of shadowy, galleon-like vessels with undersides festooned with writhing cables of water. They gave off thundery rumbles and a noise like discharging hydrants, the rain descending in hissing vertical rafts of solid matter that lathered the earth and made the spokes of the poet’s umbrella, under which I had taken shelter, bend like saplings.”
It was a treat reading about Cherrapunji and equally engrossing, I was awestruck by the special use of orange flavored honey in Cherrapunji for embalming; overall this was a beautiful read.
July 9, 2018
As the Monsoon danced outside my window, I turned the last page to the most brilliant travelogue I have read so far. Capturing India's tryst, the joys as well as turmoils, with this annual guest, Frater also lays bare his struggles with the Indian bureaucracy, and thus carves a narrative that is raw to the core.
I have also realized that I enjoy non-fictional writing, that is appropriately coated with wit and word craft.
I have also realized that I enjoy non-fictional writing, that is appropriately coated with wit and word craft.
July 8, 2017
The book describes the journey of a Scottish reporter across India literally “chasing” the monsoon. Frater starts off the book beautifully describing his birth and early years in an Hebridean island, and how rain, thunder and lightning became an integral part of him which purportedly leads to taking on the mission many years later. Cherrapunji becomes his White Whale; memory of a portrait from his childhood becomes his muse. Those days (mid 80’s) Meghalaya was an area of extreme unrest, and Cherra was out of bounds to most civilians, let alone a white foreigner. And yet, Frater embarks on the journey.
Spurred by a chance conversation with an Indian couple in a neurological waiting room in London, Frater starts his journey from Kerala. He welcomes the monsoon at the Kovalam beach
(or is it vice versa), journeys northward to Quilon, Cochin, Goa and Bombay; leap-frogs to Delhi, and then on to Calcutta with a hiatus in London during a period of despair, with a climactic ending in Cherra. Along the way, Frater discusses his multifarious experiences in the Indian milieu, including scary ones such as being assaulted by druggies in Bombay and being involved in a multi-car crash on an off-Delhi highway. A constant backdrop till the very end is Frater’s experience of Indian bureaucracy while he tries to obtain his permit into Cherra. The inefficiencies in the 80’s were (marginally) worse than what it’s today, but it gives a candid glance into how things can be bent in India, and how, if one has his mind to it, providence often hands the wrench to bend them with.
Frater’s language is fresh and breezy (much like the harbinger winds of monsoon). In my opinion the first two chapters are written fantastically -- it’s hard for anyone to put down the book after that. All in all, a highly recommended book.
Spurred by a chance conversation with an Indian couple in a neurological waiting room in London, Frater starts his journey from Kerala. He welcomes the monsoon at the Kovalam beach
(or is it vice versa), journeys northward to Quilon, Cochin, Goa and Bombay; leap-frogs to Delhi, and then on to Calcutta with a hiatus in London during a period of despair, with a climactic ending in Cherra. Along the way, Frater discusses his multifarious experiences in the Indian milieu, including scary ones such as being assaulted by druggies in Bombay and being involved in a multi-car crash on an off-Delhi highway. A constant backdrop till the very end is Frater’s experience of Indian bureaucracy while he tries to obtain his permit into Cherra. The inefficiencies in the 80’s were (marginally) worse than what it’s today, but it gives a candid glance into how things can be bent in India, and how, if one has his mind to it, providence often hands the wrench to bend them with.
Frater’s language is fresh and breezy (much like the harbinger winds of monsoon). In my opinion the first two chapters are written fantastically -- it’s hard for anyone to put down the book after that. All in all, a highly recommended book.
April 8, 2020
The monsoon unfailingly reminds me of the summer vacations in Kerala, where I'd endlessly sit staring at the multiple streams of water that pour down from the mud tiled roofs. The surroundings suddenly so dark, green and beautiful. Monsoon's relevance to me ends there, likely so also for Alexander as he began the journey.
However as he travels, the monsoon reveals itself as an endlessly complicated and unpredictable beast, in character with India. In its absence, innumerable elements of local culture, and in some cases even the people, would cease to exist. This intertwining is beautifully brought forth, to smaller affairs such as the locals stealing weather balloons canisters that fall from the sky in Trivandrum, to people who claim to control the monsoon through Vedic hymns, to how life carries on despite the unbearable hardships that the monsoon brings to many - the lakhs of people who live in tarpaulin homes in Bombay, the drainage that floods into Calcutta every other year, and people in vast swathes of Central India whose little infrastructure leaves them at rain's mercy.
My only criticism is the lack of any mention of how it was the British who brought the country to ruins in the first place. Or of anything even resembling that tone. Instead, pointing to the pitiable contributions of colonialism - the railways, the magisterial offices and housing, etc.
However as he travels, the monsoon reveals itself as an endlessly complicated and unpredictable beast, in character with India. In its absence, innumerable elements of local culture, and in some cases even the people, would cease to exist. This intertwining is beautifully brought forth, to smaller affairs such as the locals stealing weather balloons canisters that fall from the sky in Trivandrum, to people who claim to control the monsoon through Vedic hymns, to how life carries on despite the unbearable hardships that the monsoon brings to many - the lakhs of people who live in tarpaulin homes in Bombay, the drainage that floods into Calcutta every other year, and people in vast swathes of Central India whose little infrastructure leaves them at rain's mercy.
My only criticism is the lack of any mention of how it was the British who brought the country to ruins in the first place. Or of anything even resembling that tone. Instead, pointing to the pitiable contributions of colonialism - the railways, the magisterial offices and housing, etc.
October 9, 2012
An excellent meteorological travelogue, if such a genre even exists. I loved how the author effortlessly marries the complex science with the intense poetry of the monsoon. He covers adeptly all the drama, romance, sorrows, relief, and blessing that the monsoon brings to the Indian subcontinent - in many ways the monsoon is the very heart of the country.
Frater's writing style flows just like the subject he has chosen. His story is more than a travelogue - it is a personal journey, following the often unpredictable monsoons throughout India and studying the impacts it has on the country and finally culminating in Cherrapunji. The whole book is infused with warmth and subtle humour. It displays a deep understanding of the intricate soul-connection that people in India have with the monsoon rains. He touches upon subjects that are grave and light-hearted about the season with equal panache. Excellent read, highly recommended.
Frater's writing style flows just like the subject he has chosen. His story is more than a travelogue - it is a personal journey, following the often unpredictable monsoons throughout India and studying the impacts it has on the country and finally culminating in Cherrapunji. The whole book is infused with warmth and subtle humour. It displays a deep understanding of the intricate soul-connection that people in India have with the monsoon rains. He touches upon subjects that are grave and light-hearted about the season with equal panache. Excellent read, highly recommended.
May 15, 2012
It's a romantic novel which makes you fall in love with the majesty of the rains. Alexander Frater, impelled by his tenuous connections with the Indian culture, starts off on a journey following the monsoon in India from the southern tip, and undergoing on a sinuous tour through the thick and thin of Indian culture, culminates his amazing journey in Cherrapunji. Or does the entangled Indian bureaucracy let him reach his destination?
The book is full of chance happenings, and meetings with people who are affable and whimsical at the same time, acting out in a typical way which has come to be characterized by the melange of cultures that India is. A readable book for anyone interested in experiencing the monsoons of India and her culture without actually stepping into India - that's how vivid the narrative is.
The book is full of chance happenings, and meetings with people who are affable and whimsical at the same time, acting out in a typical way which has come to be characterized by the melange of cultures that India is. A readable book for anyone interested in experiencing the monsoons of India and her culture without actually stepping into India - that's how vivid the narrative is.
January 9, 2015
A pleasant read. Based on an interesting idea of following the significant annual phenomena of Indian weather, this book perfectly portrays the beauty and the bitterness surrounding the Indian monsoon. During the process of pursuing this exciting journey, apart from describing the nature's behavior the author also explored few interesting pre-indpendence events,the Indian bureaucracy in action, the perplexity of Indian life when viewed by an outsider. The author really excelled in capturing the mood of the places he visited. The entire narration was so lively that the completion of the book left a sensation in me that I was his companion throughout the journey.
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