Rainy Days, Never Say Goodbye...

The skies have been washed clean and shine down, through the thick cover of dark grey clouds. There's a freshness in the cool breeze that caresses my cheeks and plays with my hair, tossing it around into a tangled mess. The atmosphere is pregnant with the odour of freshly watered earth that teases my olfactory nerves into alertness and makes me sniff with curiosity. The suffocating presence of smoke, fly ash and dust particles seems to have been tamped down by downpour.

The streets, with their colossal absence of storm-water drains (I swear I don't understand why so many streets in Pune are missing drains for the longest stretches - pray where is the water supposed to go when it rains?), were flooded this afternoon creating a wonderful chaos that is so quintessentially "Indian Monsoon." Several trees on F.C Road, J.M. Road and I'm sure elsewhere couldn't withstand the naughty winds that lashed across the city and fell down to block entire streets and add to the commotion. A few billboards also bowed down to the forces of nature - fully-bent mind you, not that half-hearted bowing down!

Yes, it rained in Pune today. While the heavens have been opening up occasionally in the past couple of week, it wasn't much of a show and didn't succeed in bringing down the temperatures much. Today's grand display reminded me (almost painfully) of the monsoons I was accustomed to in Bombay - fierce winds that made a mockery of umbrellas accompanied by a sudden and heavy downpour that left you soaked to the skin within seconds. The pretty flowers adorning the street that goes upto from Patrakar Nagar were blown askew and scattered themselves all over the tarmac. Nature at her disheveled best.

I was caught in the downpour as I left class - and nearly got soaked, but for the semi-shelter of a bus-stand and then the parapet of India Art Gallery. As I stood there shivering in the cold wind and rain (I'm tempted to describe it as "un orage" a.k.a, a storm, but I know that would be a gross exaggeration) my minds drifted back to the innumerable times I've been caught in such rains in Bombay.

At Marine Drive with Aprajita, when we were both soaked to the skin within seconds - we had later walked down shivering like drowned rats to Churchgate Station to get ourselves some mouth-watering Frankie and Softy from the stall at the Station. Appu insisted later that I got a bigger softy because I was wearing a white top ;-)

At Bandstand with Kunal and Appu after having been unsuccessful at getting tickets at Gaiety (this was in the days before multiplexes happened to India) - we had forced Kunu to get into a bus on our way back to my place, gotten stuck in terrible snarling traffic that made the 45 minute commute last for over an hour and then walked from the bus-stop to my place bent under the onslaught of the rains. Kunu, I think, caught a rick from my place to his, which is like a stone's throw away! ;-) We had nagged him into changing and rerturning back for dinner and post-dinner talking into the wee hours of the morning!

At Mithibai when the rains had flooded all of Bombay - we were told to "evacuate" college - had to find our way out of college balancing on stilts because the "campus" outside the canteen entrance had flooded completely. I managed to get a bus which was packed like a tin of sardines and stood on the second step almost all the way home - at one point the water actually lapped at the feet of the person on the last step. A friend walked home, another hitched a ride with complete strangers. A professor who lived in the far-flung suburbs of the city had to take refuge in a colleague's home because trains were not running at all!

At Versova rock-beach, again with Appu and Kunu - this time we stubbornly stayed stuck to the rocks till we were quite wet, acting silly and drunk, scandalising the chana-wallas and others who were on the beach, singing a stupid song we'd made up right then and there..I vaguely remember the lines "It's raining in paradise, You are my fire I am your ice!" ;-)

At Amit's house in Versova, sipping garam garam chai and watching the waves lash angrily at the walls below, even as the winds howled wildly around his building. I'd shifted away from Pune the week before, and this was my first visit back "home" - little did I know how much I'd yearn for that sight in the months to come.

At my adda in the months that followed, high up on the 6th floor of my building, the windows pushed to one side, perched on the granite platform, arguing with Mansi at 2 am. She was down for her annual vacation and I'd rushed to Bombay to spend time with my bosom-buddy and guardian-angel - spent three unforgettable days in Bombay, catching up with her, opening my heart out to her (as always), chatting until the wee hours of the morning, not to mention getting my bheja-fried. That night it had rained like crazy and we'd sat there just admiring the sight of the rain-lashed streets below us till Mansi couldn't resist the urge to pick up at my brains again! ;-)

By the time I parted ways with my classmate who was my fellow-refugee, I was flooded with images from those wonderful days. It feels like yesterday, yet so far-away and so out-of-reach. I never thought I'd say this, but I love monsoons - the good Bombay variety, which spell heavy downpours, skies over-cast with dark grey clouds for days at ends with no hint of sunshine, the dampness which permeates homes, wet clothes and musty smells, flooded roads, chaotic traffic et al.

While my father would say all this calls for a cup of steaming elaichi chai and pakodas, I call for a big mug of steaming cappucino and a massive salami sandwich dripping with mayonnaise! I believe they call this a generation-gap ;-) On that note, I bid all of thee adieu and a good monsoon this year!

(Meanwhile a story brews to perfection in my head and I shall sit me down and type furiously away till I have carved out my newest creation to my satisfaction...)