Monsoon Nostalgia

It's been twenty years since I left Bombay, and reading about the record breaking rain evoked some fond memories of the Monsoon.

The first downpour of the season was a momentous occasion for the children in our apartment building. We would congregate downstairs and frolic around in the muddy waters akin to a tribe thanking the rain-gods with a ritualistic dance.

In our oversize raincoats over our stuffed bags, hats and the obligatory rubber flip-flops, we would trudge to the school bus-stop like ET's being drawn to the mother-ship.

Standing at Worli Seaface, sipping nariyal pani and letting the big waves crash over our heads gave an adrenalin rush that cannot be duplicated.

Rains meant rugby and soccer games at school. Much to the chagrin of our mothers we'd return home, caked in mud from a hard rugby game. It made us feel like heroes, though.

Most of all, I remember how dark it would get during the middle of the day with the cloud cover. And how this would somehow have a strange effect of uplifting the spirit.

They say Bombay has changed a lot. I'd still like to remember it as it was twenty years ago.