Rains are beautiful, lethargic, liberating and romantic. It means differently to each of us though it is unanimously welcomed.
Every year India awaits the Monsoons even more desperately than the last. Apart from our economy depending largely on it, most of us are just looking for excuses to get away from our routine. It seems to be the one escape for chai and conversations, for book in bed, for music in the living room or for exploring the different textures of nature.
If I had it my way, I would revisit some of my favourite Monsoon memories.
On the road in Shillong
Shillong is the quintessential hill station with green hills bordering every view, with roads packed with Maruti 800, with cute houses and coloured winter wear in each corner. Undoubtably, my favourite season in my hometown is Winter; though I have lovely memories of witnessing the rains from my window.
As Shillong acquires different tones of green after the first showers, the roads open up to limitless drives. Most popular drives from Shillong head towards Cherrapunjee, Shillong Peak, Dainthlen Falls or Mawlynnong. I always miss stopping the car in the middle of nowhere for some visual respite or taking an unknown detour.
Nostalgic about: A goodnight’s sleep
Feeling the wind in Marine Drive
Yes, the rains in Bombay disrupt life and bring along ailments. But that moment when you’re sitting on the Marine Drive promenade, soaked by the rain, with the wind touching your face as you recall the lyrics of your favourite song- that moment is priceless.
The rains in this megacity bring a certain vulnerability to it. Even though every day gets tougher, I have seen people spend more time in reflecting and desiring to be outdoors. With chai or bhutta in everyone’s hand, I felt like walking in the rain is a natural practice.
Nostalgic about: Singing aloud with friends
The warm yellow light in Delhi
It doesn’t rain much in Delhi. It pours for a few hours, halts traffic, irks its residents and moves on to the neighbouring states. Why would I still be nostalgic about it? Because being at home with Begum Akhtar on the background and savouring deliciously warm chaats doesn’t visit me every day. It is a time of melancholic completeness.
Nostalgic about: The yellow lights from home reflecting on each drizzle
~How are you revisiting Monsoon this year?