Memories of a downpour

Friends come and go. The same is true about umbrellas. You don't remember how they protected you from the rain but they did at one point of time. And that's the grim beauty of having somebody close to look over you; somebody to find shelter in when the going gets tough. Somebody to hold hands with. Maybe that explains the momentary emptiness you feel on losing an umbrella. Minutes after leaving it in the train/bus/auto/sky, it just strikes you that the umbrella is gone. Something similar happens with the loss of a friend too. Fortunately, one umbrella replaces another just like a friend replaces another. Life carries on. However, some stories remain etched in your head. Stories about how friend made you feel long ago or how an umbrella ended up teaching you a lesson in carefulness. A good ol' friend of mine named Aamir and i were 13-year-old once. We had gone to Trombay jetty to see this huge Japanese ship that was supposedly hauled there. It was a fine evening with fish in the air. Jetty always smelt like fish thanks to fishermen/women in the vicinity. It never bothered us though. Furthermore, we were too excited about the ship. Just two day ago, i had lost my umbrella and Aamir was too cool to bring his to jetty. As fate would have it, as soon as we reached the spot from where we could savour the view of that gigantic ship, it started pouring. Being myself, i started running towards the nearby wall. That's also when i heard Aamir say "Arre yaar, kapde hain....bheengenge aur phir shookh jaayenge!" while relishing the weather.

On the line

In this city, commuting accounts for about half of the work done. As commuters, you've got only two feelings: anger and nothing. They are impatient. [Speaking of patience, those travelling on the Harbour Line redefine patience everyday.] It's not just about the local trains. It's about us. We officially become Mumbaikars when fellow commuters stamp on our toes by mistake and we don't even realize it. Push comes to shove and vice versa. Train mein dhakka nahi toh kya lottery lagega? When daily commuters sit on the edge of the seat, there is nothing exciting about it. But public behave as if they've never seen a seat before, let alone sat on one. No wonder men stay seated because they can't stand a woman standing closeby. Moreover, when somebody is fighting for space, enjoy the show. It never lasts long. Besides, people who quarrel in local trains deserve to commute in them. Oh, did you know elbows are the weapon of mass destruction? Dangerous. However, as long as commuters are ready to assume weird positions to finish reading newspapers, there is hope for print media.

Homelessness

With the clouds opening up over the city, its human denizens are not the only ones affected. Our four-legged Mumbaikars are also hard done by, what with the rains making it more difficult to forage for  food. They also have to deal with “residential” issues. And, like humans, dogs have their own ways to find solutions—like this little fellow who found a dry, warm seat in the back of an empty auto-rickshaw. Maybe he was hoping to be transported to a better place...

Hurt shocker

It's only when you're stung by a bee/wasp—not bitten by a bedbug or an ant—that you become capable enough to quantify pain. The manner in which your skin behaves and the almost audible ripples you hear under it makes you doubly aware of your being. In simpler words, when a bee/wasp stings you, it has your utmost attention. That's not the case with any other insect. At least not the ones freely available in urban landscape. You don't dare scratch the surface. You feel alone. That's the worst part. When a mosquito bites you on the back, you can ask someone to scratch it. That probability of an union is discarded by the monsters we're discussing here. They acknowledge the fact that our species can do without anything but company. So they attack and induce loneliness. Ironically enough, bees/wasps themselves believe in society.

I can make out that you don't know what i'm trying to say. Guess what? You've got no idea how much it hurts. I'M IN PAIN BUT I'M GRATEFUL IT WASN'T A SNAKE. Let me cry a bit now.

Digression: I want to be one with the environment. So much so that no creature, living or otherwise, ever harm me or wish me ill. Especially the ones who can die with mere application of my fingerprint.Also, they don't really need that pointed thing on their ass.

How we roll!

All of a sudden, everybody is a football fan. Of course, the ongoing World Cup is to be ‘blamed’ for this sudden switch of allegiance. And the most interesting aspect—or should we say, encouraging, given our undue reliance on cricket for glory?—has been the activity on local playgrounds and parks. Kids and adults both are seen trying their feet at dribbling. It's like watching me dance. Be it rain or not, evenings are particularly spent on kicking like there’s no tomorrow. These newfound disciples have their favourite international footballers too. Interestingly, a few weeks back, they didn’t even know they existed, let alone have a clue for which club they played. But then, who’s complaining? We're the 154th best footballing country in the world. Cracking the top-150 league won't hurt.

Maximum mess

With the monsoon making its presence felt, many roads are back to their ugly best — thanks to accumulating muck. And, though we like to point fingers at the authorities, much of the blame rests on  the public who fail to do their civic duty. For some inexplicable reason, we don’t throw garbage into the huge garbage cans, which are hard to miss. Instead, it becomes a sort of game to throw stuff around the receptacles. The resultant pile-up of rubbish in the open is a common sight in the city. Much of the  problem can be easily solved if the aam janata took it upon themselves to just maintain basic cleanliness. Not helping the situation, rag-pickers forage for useful items among the litter, and leave  without putting the remnants back into the bin. Oh, and who can forget the stray dogs? They too do their bit in spreading the word... err...waste.

Liquid state of reincarnation

After toying with the idea of what exactly is sacred, i've reached a conclusion today while brushing: Raindrops are indeed sacred. Never mind the air pollution or the depletion of ozone. Every single droplet is a manifestation of ultimate patience followed by altruism. It moves as if it knows what it's up to. Except that it doesn't. Hypnotized by gravity, it goes down only to rise again. And for what? Suicide. And for whom? Strangers. Absolute strangers.

Free fall

Streets provoked by monsoon come up with stories of their own. Some have grim ones to share while others, happier. However, post-rain scenarios are worth a dekko. At least in our haphazard city. The garbage is soaked. Puddles created out of nowhere. Dogs feeling homeless all over again. Cars failing to hide their glee due to free wash. Kids acting like they'll never grow up. People walking cautiously for a change. Umbrellas up out in the open. The professional municipal road-diggers cursing the clouds. Long queues outside local dispensary. Vegetables rotten and crushed in the market. Fortunately, it rains every single year. Unfortunately, it never pours hard enough to rid the streets off their scum.

Nodding is possible

The untimely drizzle in parts of the city might have come as a relief to some, but where there was no precipitation, there was continued perspiration. Also as expected, the so-called rain was followed by high humidity and further high temperatures throughout. No wonder sleeping without sweating is nothing less than a task—at least for the unprivileged lot. And in such a scenario who wouldn’t want to sleep with the open sky above, especially when you’re certain that it’s not going to rain anyway?