Sunday, June 26, 2005

Dekho Baarish ho rahi hai??

I like the rainy season. Especially the Mumbai Rains. And all that precedes and accompanies it. Ofcourse the aftermath is slightly jarring.

I love the pink and blue clouds that precede every sunset in the rains. Also the blacks and grey that precede a downpour. The gushing storm drains, and the floating debris. The colorful umbrellas and the swishing raincoats.

I love the puddles of water that accumulate on different parts of a seemingly flat road. And the splashes little children make while they prance through the puddles.

An uncommonly common feature about the monsoons in Mumbai, is the regularity with which it catches you off guard. Motorcyclists taking refuge under a flyover bridge during an unexpected shower. Salesmen and labourers hurrying along in the faint hope of reaching an empty awning as their clothes and wallets get soggy.

The monsoons are also amongst the most intelligent natural life forms I have seen. They lie in wait for an unsuspecting target and will seldom miss one with a well placed and timed deluge. They target members of the general public who are ill-equipped to handle their might either due to time constraints or due to over confidence in a bright blue sky.

I love the seas crashing against the parapets during the monsoons. It reminds me of Alan Delon in an old english film slapping 5 men standing in a row, backhanded, like dominoes falling over. I love being able to be drenched in grey, brackish sea water on the far pavement of Marine Drive. And I love the wild seas overtaking Suniel Shetty's pier for Water Sports and stopping hovercraft services to Belapur and deciding who's boss and keeping it that way.

I also love the wildlife, flora and faune that emerges during this time. Earthworms from excavation sites left helpfully uncovered by the requisite government authorities; Snails who decide to test their athletic skills against more of their own kind; Lizards running up and down your slick building walls glaring and staring at all that moves around them; Flies buzzing around those morsels of food you have left on your plate; Ferns growing out of drainage pipes on walls, Moss growing on your driveway expressly to make you slip and your car skid; Grass on the different grounds and waste lands that hide their inherent nakedness.

Today I was meeting some friends at Bandstand, for coffee. I was wearing a decent pair of clothes after ages and I was carrying this flimsy wind cheater that succeeded at only cheating itself into the idea that it could offer my torso substantial protection from the ravages of the rain.

I was sitting at an outdoor cafe on the promenade right in front of the raging sea and the wind was howling through and through. And then I got up, strolled down the road, past Rekha's house, up Mount Mary approach, past Sachin Tendulkar's house, and Jackie Shroff's house, and past the circle outside Mehboob Studios, and into a rickshaw and onto the piece of Great Road for Driving upto Reclamation signal, and then onto home.

And the rain missed me. I love the rain.



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