Ah, the monsoon is the grand ceremony of the Indian water cycle, filling our rivers and recharging the earth. But from my field in Punjab, I see a different chapter of that story written in concrete canals. For us, the cycle is less about the sky and more about the timed release from the Bhakra Nangal dam. Our water arrives with a bureaucrat's schedule, not the clouds' mood. So while the monsoon fills the reservoirs far away, my wheat knows only the rhythm of the canal gate's opening.
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