Ashadhasya Prathama Divase

And finally, it rains! I stood out in my balcony watching the dark clouds glide menacingly over the sky like an army of Dementors. The wind blew wildly, plastic bags were lifted into the air and the dust swirled about announcing the oncoming storm. Lightening flashed, the thunder crackled, and the power went off as well. And then just as I was expecting the rains to come lashing down, the clouds let loose a simple, steady shower. The grey clouds winked and floated ahead. 
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Monsoons are the only time of the year when I am at my dreamiest best. I wonder if it's because i'm a water sign, who knows? But when I think about it, I find that most of my strongest memories are somehow linked with this season. 

While Mumbai has come to be synonymous with floods over the past 8-9 years, growing up things were quite different. We were a cluster of few buildings, plenty of kids, an extensive marsh for a backyard, numerous trees and therefore of course, lots of snakes (i'm talking pythons and cobras here)! Wild mushrooms grew in hordes which we'd collect for my Dad to be tested in the laboratory (I still don't know why!). Stray pups huddled together under trees and, mosquitoes multiplied with vengeance. 

Have you ever played hide-and-seek on dark, cold, wet evenings with nothing but the bright (I mean seriously bright) moonlight to guide your sight? It's exhilarating! Like most children, we tortured earthworms, caterpillars, dragon flies and other such hapless creatures. I also remember spotting glowworms but I don't think I've seen one since. 

A gutter ran alongside the street, rolling downhill towards the marsh. There was never any garbage dumped into it so all one could find was fresh clean rainwater gushing into the open space beyond. This is where Bapi and I sailed paper boats. It was a regular monsoon ritual until I grew out of it. We'd spend the morning making boats out of newspapers and magazines. Then we'd put on our raincoats, slip into our gumboots and set out to sail each one of them into the gutter and the little pools of water under the trees.

At least once during this season the school grounds would be water logged, granting us a holiday. School bags were protected with an inner lining of plastic, a towel to wipe off wet feet lest I catch a cold and of course tiffin 'dabbas' with hot food- simply divine on cold wet days in the open hall. 

I often came home from school soaked to the bone, with my teeth chattering severely. This is when my Dad brought out the brandy from the medicine drawer. A dash of it in warm water or hot milk and the blood came rushing back into my veins. 

During the season's dry spells, when the stuffy humidity got the better of us, we'd 'make it rain'. Umbrellas were popped open and we stood under trees while the taller kids were asked to swing the branches so that the water could shake off them and rain down on us. 

Cut to college, and lectures at 7am meant minimum attendance. But I didn't bunk. Not just because I always had this compulsive need to be the good one. But because, at that hour monsoon mornings are breathtaking. And at that age, it was also about flaunting the coolest windcheaters, cutest capri pants and colourful slippers.

I don't know how much of this innocent fun children today will get to experience. I often say mine was probably the last urban generation in India to have an idyllic childhood. I guess, they'll make their own memories. For now, I'm enjoying the view from my balcony. There's a little bit of green, not much, but the scent of the wet leaves and the wet soil is still the same and I'm lovin it!