Welcome to my annual monsoon blog post. I’m a bit late this year, but then the rains were a bit late this year.
It’s been raining continuously for a week. The air is clear, the temperatures are lower, and the wind smells clean again. The perpetual haze of smoke that Mumbaiites take for granted has washed away, and every colour is brighter. There are a million shades of green right outside my window. The bright neons, the khakis, the verdant greens and the mosses.
I travel between Pune and Mumbai a lot, and train journeys are a joy in the monsoon. The wind on my face much softer, much cooler, much less dusty. The deep, green smell of the air inside a forest in the monsoon has become a part of my soul.
I took a couple of pictures on my last journey, but obviously pictures cannot truly show what the eye sees. Mind you, these are not edited at all, except maybe for some cheeky cropping. I was in a moving train, so was constrained as to angles and time.
Sadly, I can’t eat bhutta this year. I have braces. But I can, and will, eat all the kanda bhajis and drink all the chai that I can, nestling my umbrella between my neck and shoulder, on the side of the road, plate in hand. I can, and will, go to Marine Drive, and watch the grey Arabian Sea broil and thrash against the rocks. I will once again be in awe of thunder and lightning. I will try to paint the way the stormy sea reflects the stormy sky, either with words or brushes, and I will fail.
And I will be grateful for this monsoon.