It's no secret that I love the rains...I've grown up watching my city get drowned in a deluge every year. The months of June, July and August during school always spelt afternoons and evenings spent cuddled in a blanket with a mug of coffee or hot chocolate cradled in one hand while the other held a book in which I lost myself. As the years slipped by and I entered college, I built new memories of the monsoon madness in Bombay. Memories of getting wet on the rock beach in Versova and tipsily composing a silly poem with K and A that went something to the tunes of "It's raining in paradise, you are my fire, I am your ice..." (No that wasn't inspired by several bottles of alcohol, we were just drunk on the rain). Memories of folding my jeans upto the knees and screwing up my nose as I stepped gingerly in ankle-deep water on my way to college / university. Memories of getting drenched to the skin at Bandstand, again with K and A and coming back home to mugs of hot coffee and midnight conversation with them. Memories of sipping garam masala chai with A, while watching the waves lash the beach. Memories of walks and meandering conversations with M after dinner, discussing the travails of adolescence, puppy love and our favourite songs as the rain fell pitter-pittar and fed the greedy earth. Memories of walking down streets lined with trees showering me with water, hours after it had stopped raining. Memories of those crazy afternoons spent in South Bombay when A and I dug into the most delicious bhel at Marine Drive, got wet and then had that softy at Churchgate station when I apparently got away with a bigger scoop because of my wet (white) tee-shirt! Memories of the city drowning in 2006 and being marooned at K's house, using the opportunity to shamelessly extend my stay in my favourite city and catch up with friends.
.jpg)
It was raining the day we left Bombay for Pune...the first rains of the year. 7th June 2004. Five years later, I have many many memories that will keep me connected to this city forever, even if I move on and move away. Memories of langourous, sultry summer afternoons spent drinking chai or nimbu pani and wrangling with a friend. Memories of the long days of oppressive heat when I felt my soul stir restlessly, seeking something more. Memories of chilly winter mornings, going to PIFF or AFP bundled up in a sweater and scarf. Memories of cozy autumn evenings when the cool breeze caressed my arms and made me yearn for the forbidden.
But I have no memories that link monsoon and me with this city. Even after all these years, I still think of Bombay during the rains and inevitably slip into nostalgia. I want to make new memories this year. Memories of the rains that bring with them a welcome relief from the unbearably heat of an endless summer. Memories of the rains which quench the thirst of the parched earth of the Deccan Plateau and leave that heady fragrance, which I so love, lingering in the air . Memories that tie the rains and me to Pune.
3 comments:
Amen to that! But the thing with memories is that they are made surreptitiously, unannounced.
Wow! And my best monsoon memories, blogposts and poems are of the rains in Pune.
@ Pranab - :-) True true, but doesn't prevent me from wanting!
@ e - Do Share! :)
Post a Comment