The significance of the monsoon isn't the human discomfort, but how the people here have learned to live with it. I'm travelling to the very epicenter of the monsoon, a place called Cherrapunji, which holds a world record for the highest rainfall in a single year.

 

Ah, a new rain. If you’re from west Scotland, you met rain before. But this is different. It's different rain. It’s hard to explain. It's the sheer intensity of it. It just comes barreling down. But also the raindrops are massive. In fact I could feel a leg cuff with them, which means it, within minutes, you’re just soaked. It's pointless with the hood on. I'm soaked. But I really need a broadly like this chap. Very wet. Wet. It's what is ..., it’s very slady.

 

Back in West Scotland where I'm from, the average annual rainfall is over 3 feet, and that might horrify a Californian, but here in Cherrapunji, the annual average rainfall is more than 10 times that, between 35 and 40 feet. That's nearly the height of a 4-storey building. Streams turn to rivers and rivers turn to torrents.

 

When you live with so much water, you have to adapt, just to get around. And that's exactly what the local Kasi people have done.

 

Look at that. Isn't this fantastic? Look at it. It's a living bridge. You can see all these roots coming down. Texture, beautiful. I mean this entire structure has built a growing rogger tree.