As the rain clouds gathered I remembered the days in Pune when almost the entire floor rushed up to the terrace to get drenched (or at least feel the spray on themselves). Memories of smiles and the happiness writ on those faces light up brighter and more vivid than the brightest LED screens on display in the TV shops.
The met department is allegedly terming the rain that we experienced for the last few days "pre-monsoon" showers but yesterday when I experienced the rain at Bandra Bandstand I saw the people greeting the monsoon. I saw glimpses of the past in their smiles, the energy, and the happiness.
I have been itching to write this for the last few days. Ever since I saw the first rains. Technically I heard about the rain and then saw it like a TV on mute across a glass pane. Perhaps that is why it failed to trigger something emotive like the past few experiences.
I cannot explain why I have this urge to write everytime it rains for the first time in a season. Perhaps it opens some flood gate of the soul as well. It is a sudden explosion of a whole lot of sensory triggers—the absence of heat after a summer, the earthy petrichor smell of the first rain as the actinomycetes aerosol their spores into our noses, just the sight of the rain clouds, the feel of the rain drops on your skin, the verdant foliage and whole lot of things that are best experienced and never expressed.
Mumbai has stoked a certain fire in the furnace of my being. With the clangour of the furnace, it has brought a certain numbness of my being.
The met department is allegedly terming the rain that we experienced for the last few days "pre-monsoon" showers but yesterday when I experienced the rain at Bandra Bandstand I saw the people greeting the monsoon. I saw glimpses of the past in their smiles, the energy, and the happiness.
I have been itching to write this for the last few days. Ever since I saw the first rains. Technically I heard about the rain and then saw it like a TV on mute across a glass pane. Perhaps that is why it failed to trigger something emotive like the past few experiences.
I cannot explain why I have this urge to write everytime it rains for the first time in a season. Perhaps it opens some flood gate of the soul as well. It is a sudden explosion of a whole lot of sensory triggers—the absence of heat after a summer, the earthy petrichor smell of the first rain as the actinomycetes aerosol their spores into our noses, just the sight of the rain clouds, the feel of the rain drops on your skin, the verdant foliage and whole lot of things that are best experienced and never expressed.
Mumbai has stoked a certain fire in the furnace of my being. With the clangour of the furnace, it has brought a certain numbness of my being.
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