Rain on my parade!

Monsoon. The one season when all the photographers rush to Goa to capture the beauty of the rains. When the tiny craters on the road make you visit your orthopedic more than often. When wet umbrellas of those around you, drip droplets of icy cold terror down your spine. When Mumbai experiences the maximum number of train cancellations. When Mumbaiites are terrified of being stranded indefinitely due to water logging and everything that goes with it.

Well, it’s not all bad. There’s a relief from the scorching heat of the summers. The cool weather just makes you wanna curl up in bed with a good book. The rains are just awesome to walk in, if you know places without mucky roads.

Of course, you get frustrated when the auto rickshaw guys prefer to smirk than take you to your destination. And no matter how pretty the movies make “girls in the rains holding umbrellas” look, it isn’t close to pretty in real life. Picture trying to hold an umbrella upright as you try to keep your bags dry and every vehicle whizzing past you showering you with mucky blessings, and you will agree with me.

Once you happen to get lucky, (and by that I mean that a gracious rickshaw guy agrees to drop you off to your destination) another struggle begins. Navigating through the lazy traffic, with frustrated drivers honking with all their might in the hope that all that noise will change the pace with which the vehicles move. You finally reach the station and there you see the platforms cramped with people, each of them in a hurry to get home safe and sound. A lot of elbowing and shoving later, you find yourself inside the filled-to-capacity train. Your body hurts in numerous places but you decide to brave through it till you get home. Finally, you reach your station and another bout of elbowing and showing later you find yourself on the far-too-familiar platform. You hurry out of there and once you reach the safe confines of your home, you draw in a deep breath.

You’re home. You immediately change into dry clothes and feed your growling stomach. Fed and dry, you curl into your bed snuggled tightly in your blanket. That is when you feel your body aching and announcing that all the struggle in the train has given you some very memorable bruises. Before you know it, you’re in deep sleep dreaming about ways to make monsoon more bearable in Mumbai and to make the auto drivers pay for all the time they’ve grinned at your misery.