More Monsoon Madness

Have you ever felt like putting on your shorts, taking your umbrella and a bucket of water, and going out into the pouring rain to wash your car?

Yeah, me too. I can barely stop myself, every time.

A Monsoon Blogging

They've started, and baby, they have started wee-ith ishtyle! This will be the first of a series of Rains in the City posts... Bombay becomes a world apart in wet weather.

I am already keeping a change in the office and wading to work in sandals. The AC, as always, remains intractable; here's how it would behave in summer. What it does when the temperature drops, and people are damp or wet and already sniffling... your guess, as good as mine.



Floods, storms, and awesome landscapes and images I never get elsewhere. Life is good and getting better.

taste of rain

What's the name for that kind of rain that comes as a fine drizzle, so fine it's weightless, a fog in the air but still dense enough that if you breathe it, it's like the smell of drowning?

I experienced that today, finally.

With due deference and credit to Mr. Gump -

Stinging rain, scrunching your face into hard little knots.

Sheets of gusting rain, knocking you sideways off the bike.

Fat drops from the trees.

Fine spray from the vehicles in front of you.

Flat horizontal sloshes from those around you.

Coldness that trickles into your belly when the jacket finally gives up and lets the water through.

That wet tang running off your lip, onto your tongue.

Vertical opaque sheets of white.

Hissing, drumming, roaring, gusting, splashing, dripping, pattering, tinkling, white noise.

Forearms aching from the deathgrip on the clutch and brake, knuckles numb.

Suddenly growing wings like a water-angel every time you pass through a puddle.

Smeary red glows on black asphalt.

Glittering double columns of silver needles, swishing by in the adjacent lane. Cars don't exist anymore. They're invisible, seen only by their signature on the rain-radar.

I like biking in the rain.