Rain-soaked Rumblings of a Raving Romantic

She’s finally here.

With due pomp and circumstance, due anticipation and due carelessness, expected charm and unexpected addictiveness she’s here.

For those of you who’re too bored with my predictable tri-chotomies, it’s our intensely seductive, oh-so-anticipated new neighbour – the rainy season – I’m talking about.

The first evening that the rains really – I mean really really – hit us here in our part of Mumbai, I was in no position to pay any attention to it. Shubho was down with very high fever. I had already spent the entire evening going to the local doctor, buying medicines, sponging him, feeding him and getting worked up in general … till I realized it had silently started. In hindsight, I guess it was silenced by the fever-heavy cacophony inside my head.

Do you see where this is going? Me neither. Anyway, let’s go on till too much thinking gets in the way.

Photo by Bahman Farzad

“My eyes lose themselves in the pouring abundance …

Seeking the mystical faraway …

Was it just the drizzly breeze or your eternal futile cries  

Piercing the heart of my lonely day?”

Before you have a heart-attack (or call your publisher-uncle as you catch your breath) – wait. Those are not my lines. Just an over-ambitious attempt at reproducing some timeless rainy melodies. 

“Monsoon.” (Replace with synonym in your mother tongue). What is it, really?

Is it just a welcome shower of relief after the (inevitably) volcanic summer?

Is it the unfortunate result of a gaping hole suddenly driven through the sky? (Don’t know about this one? Ask your two year old nephew.)

Is it just one of the innumerable divine punishments for the sins of humanity? (Ask Shubho.)

Or is it that time of the year which makes you feel alive again? Is it that pest of a pal of yours who forces your mind off the important stuff and out through the window? Is it that magic potion which acts against your natural instinct of self-preservation and doesn’t let you close the windows at night, ensuring you wake up coughing next morning?

Have you figured out The Point of this post yet? If not, good going. If yes, please don’t let it slip – I don’t want to know. ;)

Photo by ►CubaGallery

Fortunately for me, that evening when the rains really really hit us was a Friday evening. And incredibly more fortunately for me, the fever (understandably) got bored by the very next day and left. This ensured Sunday morning consisted of just me and the rains. Sadly our relationship had to be limited to one-sided ogling. You see, I wasn’t sure I’d survive physical intimacy.

It was crazy, as it was serene.

It was exhilarating, as it was melancholic.

It was… OK no tri-chotomizing. Let’s just say it made me realize I belong in the fourth group – the “rains make me feel alive again” one. As if you hadn’t figured that out already. :P

I don’t know about you, but I’m all excited. Yes, in spite of the time and money spent on my daily commute having doubled. I’m fascinated by the mythological tales surrounding the Mumbai monsoon. And I’m all geared up for soaking it all up for real this time.

So here’s a big Welcome to the pesky droplets, to the addictive grey skies, to the erratic soaking blasts, to the shivers, to the pensive moods…

Oh yes. Also to the puddles in the street, to the muck, to the un-usability of public transport, to the cough and cold, and to the utter chaos all around.

Happy monsoon penguins pigeons! J