Pit pat pit pat....

3^rd June, 2100 hours, Outside National Stock Exchange: The vivid orange hue in the heavens was unmistakable as I walked down the exit lane. Weariness in my soul drained instantaneously on witnessing this grandeur arrival of the rain gods. I excitedly caught the nearest rickshaw and headed straight for the station. And the gods decided to wait…till I grabbed the door and comfortably placated my feet at the entrance of a Churchgate local. A flash of light across the skyline, the rolling thunder that narrowly followed it, and a sudden jolt – we were off!

Like everything else about the maximum city are its monsoons. They inimitably paint the metropolitan with shades of crisp purity. Harsh fumes of heat are rapidly swallowed by the brisk splatter of downpour. Sweat becomes sweet. The moist air is filled with an exquisite fragrance. Green waves of moss and mimosa squeeze their way through every gap in the walls and roads. The once desiccated gutters between the tracks now reflect shades of dark gray skylines. Winged angels shake the cold droplets out of their outstretched feathers, squatting on the overhead lines.

As my train caught speed, the heavens finally decided to let go! What initially felt like tiny grains slowly grew into big fat pearls of water. How hard they slap us across the face! It felt painful and refreshing at the same time, the rains spitting at you. An arm outstretched, it would soak right down to the skin in no time. Careless I was, since my soul was craving for freedom. And the monsoons certainly had a strange way of replenishing it in my life. As a station ran by, the aftermath of this drama was witnessed in live along the platforms - innocent children jumping gleefully in the muddy puddles, their agitated mothers chasing them furiously, men folding up their trousers with much disgust, young and charming women standing cautiously at the edge; their feet curled up, their delicate hands outstretched, collecting droplets of happyness from the heavens. The exuberant emotions were vibrating along the stretch of twelve boogies. And the surge of clean moist air rushing down your lungs made you feel like a newborn. If all this was not enough, your phone somehow manages to sense your innermost feelings and starts singing… take me home, country roads ♪♪ .A promise of romance, a journey down memory lanes; that’s what the monsoons bring us every year. Welcome back to Mumbai!