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Mumbai ki baarish

 

Ever since you watched the Bollywood movie Wake up Sid, you’ve wanted to experience the Mumbai monsoons and this year you finally did. You woke up to the sound of the wind whistling through the windows, a sure sign of what was to come. When the first drops of rain hit the roof, you were already sitting in the balcony, feeling the cold breeze through your flimsy cotton T shirt. You closed your eyes, finally the rains were here. Two minutes later, the sun was out, and you felt like you’d imagined the whole thing. It was now the perfect weather for a morning walk, but you were disappointed.

The next time you saw the dark stains on the grey road you looked up at the cloudy sky and smiled. You’d had an exhausting day, and you were ready to finally slosh through the puddles of muddy water with no regard for your safety. You tucked your umbrella under your arm and watched the tiny droplets hit the ground. The world was silent with the only audible sound being the crunching of leaves as the trees swayed in the monsoon breeze. It took you twenty minutes to reach home, and your hair was as perfect as ever, dry and wavy.

The third time you heard the patter of raindrops, you really did not want to step out. You had done this song and dance twice already and you were in no mood to be disappointed again. But you’d made a commitment, and your cousin would have made your life a living hell if you’d made her dress up for nothing. So, you put on your jean skirt, your fake piercing, a top your mother would have burned if she knew it still existed, and stuffed your earphones in, humming to yourself as you waited for the lift to reach your floor. The journey down was uneventful as always and you paused for a minute to skip the song that Spotify managed to sneak into your playlist before walking to your destination. The drizzle was so gentle that you quickly discarded the idea of going back up to get your umbrella. After all, this wasn’t your first rodeo.

She was pissed. You chuckled to yourself as she launched into a monologue about respecting people’s time and not making them wait for more than three minutes. She’s known you for your whole life, as far as you’re concerned, she should have seen it coming. She adjusts the bag on her shoulder, “Where’s your umbrella?” You look up at the cloudy sky, “It’s not going to rain.” She rolls her eyes, pulling her windcheater closer to her and you continue walking, side by side, like you’ve been doing now for nearly a month.

There’s a slight breeze and you shiver a little, determined not be fooled thrice. As if in response, the heavens open up and you finally experience the Mumbai rains, strong, unrelenting and beautiful. As the water soaks into your skin, you smile before realising that your phone is not waterproof. You hurriedly pass it over to your cousin who tucks it inside her windcheater pocket. The puddles are already forming, and you walk through them gleefully as the rain keeps coming down. You already look like a drowned rat but you’re oblivious to the looks you’re getting from the sensible people walking alongside with their umbrellas open. You’ve waited for this for so long and it’s perfect. Your cousin pulls down the headpiece of her windcheater and you walk the rest of the way in the pouring rain. The company’s great, the route is scenic, and you’ve just lived out your Bollywood dreams of getting absolutely drenched in the Mumbai rains.




For Aalene, who absolutely should read this 

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