Monday, 21 June 2010
The clouds are there. There are sudden gusts of water laden breeze. And even an occasional, short shower or two. But where are the rains? Where is the Monsoon?
I am missing the downpour, the nagging 'piter- pater' ,the horizon looking hazy behind the shower screen, the sky looking like a huge canvass drenched by the 'kajal' soaked tears of a child, the feeling of exhilaration at watching everything looking washed and new, the strange croaking of frogs, the first touch of the wet grass on the bare feet, the careless soaking in the rain on the way home from office, the 'telebhaja muri' on a windy wet evening while cuddling up with a thriller on the sofa and of course, the 'illish mach bhaja' with steaming 'khichuri' on an afternoon when the clouds would decide to pour endlessly.
I know in a couple of months time the perennially grey sky, the waterlogged streets, the muddy puddles, the wet clothes , the stomach upsets would get my goat.
But till then, I want my fair share of the romantic monsoon, newspaper reports and predictions be damned.