The Rains

I'll never understand the hold that Bombay has over me. Having had my own share of 'Mumbai experiences', I'm no stranger to the way she works. And yet, every time I'm here, it's like my first time.

Each of my trips to Bombay have been monumental. And still, it's the non-monumental things that make it special.

I'll tell you about my life-changing moments in a bit. But before that, let me begin with this time's trip.

Wedding shopping. That in itself should be self explanatory. From my ivory coloured wedding dress to the yellow n orange confetti--everything that'll be making my wedding day special begins from here: Mumbai.

Walking from Metro Cinema across Lady Willington Building, we made our first stop at Cross Maidan at 8.30am. By then, one of the first monsoon showers had already made its presence.

Now, knowing me, I took every step on the cobbled street with a cringe and lifting my jeans so as not to let even a spot of muck get on my jeans. But, and I've said this before, if I ever have to like the rains, it'll be in Mumbai. Those who live here and battle floods, traffic jams, power cuts and just plain shut down, must be raising their brow and thinking: Sure. She spends one rainy day on Marine Drive and falls in love with Mumbai rains. And I agree with them. But then again, I don't have to live here so why not focus only on the good.

So any way. Its drizzling here and I love it. I love the smells. And I love that crazy shaped cloud hovering over the Bombay Stock Exchange. And the kitten taking shelter under the grotto isn't too bad either. And for the first time, I don't mind my frizzy hair that refuses to be tamed in the humid Bombay weather.

So, where was I? Right. The rains in Mumbai. Where I sit right now typing out this post on my phone, it has stopped raining and we're waiting for Crawford market to open and for my future in-laws to come from Kandivali. Sitting on the sidewalk, I see a man in his DHL uniform light a candle and another guy putting away his big rainbow coloured umbrella. The sights, sounds and the smells remind me of the last time I was here in the rains. It was a month after I'd joined ToI and I'd been sent on a 3-day induction programme to Mumbai. And put up at the Babulnath guesthouse near Girghaum Chowpatti, I thought I could spend hours watching it rain over the sea. And that was the first time I'd ever loved the rains.

You know...now that I think about it, I know why I hate the monsoon so much. Apart from the obvious reasons, I think it makes me nostalgic. People call me unromantic because I dislike the rains. But I ain't. No one could be more romantic at heart than me. Its just that I've never had a 'romantic' moment in the rain...Not to say I've never imagined or hoped for one. But the rains remind me of happier times. Of moments that seem to be of another lifetime. And of relationships gone sour. It reminds me that I used to be happy once. And I crave for that every day. And may be that's why I hate the rains. Because they remind me of who I used to be.

But I have to be honest with my self, I love it...I love the rains...There's this feeling that you get when it's dark and gloomy outside--the kind that matches your mood--and there isn't a better time to spend time indoors. Reading a book, writing, listening to songs that make you cry...Last monsoon I spent one of the best days with my roommates at my old flat. There was a sort of heavy drizzle at about 3 am, and we sat on the terrace for nearly two hours in the rain, sipping chilled beer, talking about life and love, and getting happily drenched... those people have gone now..and so has that place..But that's the way I'll always remember our time together.

I digress. Yet again.

I'm not sure what I was talking about any more. But let me just say this: I may never want to spend my life in Mumbai. But every now and then, I'd like to go there to find my self, and Be my self.

Not So Pretty After All

I have never understood what people see in her. There’s an entire section of humanity, who unlike me, wait for her with bated breath. They count the days until she’s in town. They plan their days around her arrival and hope she makes it on time. Even as I frown with disgust, I realize I’m one of the few people around this side of the city who dislikes her. I mean, sure, she can be pretty and refreshing and all that. But there’s nothing about her that has struck me as extraordinary. You need to have a different sort of taste to like her. Me? I’m not used to her kind of beauty. For that, you have to put up with her vices as well. She has her good points, but she’s messy and filthy and I don’t have the patience with her kind.She’s unpredictable, she’s a party-pooper and she gets you all lazy and drowsy. I like beauty that makes you sit up and stare. That makes you do things, go places- just for her, or atleast because of her. But she ain’t like that.

But I can see why people like her so much. I mean I saw it last evening as I was getting home from work. I knew she was in town because I’d received way too many phone calls about it and plus everyone at office was talking about her. It made me groan, the way people get so excited about it.

Anyway, I stepped out of the doors hoping not to run into her. And I’d just about made it home when she bumped into me. But that’s a different story.

So as I was sitting in the rickshaw, I noticed that she’d already been on the street that I was on. She’d left her trails. She’d left her signs- she’s so arrogant. I hate that she can’t keep quiet about her arrival. But there it was, right in front of my eyes. Proof that people are crazy about her.

The smile on everyone’s faces was unmistakable. One look at them and I knew that they’d encountered her and they’d loved it. Children, college students, men, women, people walking on the side walks, people in their cars, people in the shops and even those I could hear on the radio- everybody looked and sounded happy. I could hear their excited chatter. I could see them huddled in groups talking about her no doubt. I could read their minds from meters away. At every lane and at every corner people were singing and dancing and enjoying the fact that she was here and she was here to stay for another couple of months.

It amazed me for a while; that she had cast such a spell in just hours of her arrival. But the amazement soon turned to the much expected impatience as I realized, just a few yards from home, that she’d caused a major traffic jam at the junction. It satisfied me just a little bit that there were some like me who were irritated by the confusion and chaos she had caused. But she couldn’t have let me gloat in the realization that people disliked her. Because as soon as I stepped out of the rickshaw under my building, there she was, in all her power and glory. And she took her revenge.

God! I hate the rains. I don’t understand what people see in her.

Just A Thought

This is something i received in the mail today...a simple sentence...speaks volume...


"Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass....



it's about learning how to dance in the rain."