The monsoons have finally set foot in Bombay. Three months of grime, heat, sweat and dehydration have eventually led us to the months where it rains uncontrollably. Temperatures will drop, the wind will finally feel nice and patches of grass will now begin to emerge.
The rains are welcomed differently by everyone. One can find children dancing about in the street not bothering about the consequences. There are adults, who will stand by their windows, just to get a little splash of water on their faces. There are people who will run to the nearest shelter, no matter how full it already is just to prevent their 20K phone or leather handbag. There are those, who sit in their comfortable cars, splashing water on the exposed rickshaw drivers who can’t retaliate.
As the rains come, Bombay undergoes a sudden change in the way she functions. The protective plastic is brought out by the street vendors to protect their goods, cries of “Chaata le lo!” fill the streets, the rickshaw drivers install their makeshift ‘protective curtains’ but life still continues in the same fashion. We’re Bombayites, not working for a single day is more of a sin than adultery here.
Personally, I really don’t like the rain. The post-rain weather may be brilliant, but I’m one of those many who are constantly moving around the city, hanging off overcrowded public transport and all. So yeah, the rain doesn’t do any good for me. It does good for the government, who simply won’t sweep the streets. Then again it brings the floods, because we’re incapable of building our own drainage system and rely on the British one. The people in the train are wet, so there’s no point in trying to keep yourself dry anyway.
Let the rain gods have their moment. Everyone has theirs.
The Happy Hippopotamus. 
lovely post THH!