The prelude to Bombay monsoon happened late last evening and predictably put me in one of my “special moods”. There was thunder and lightning and the usual Theatre of the Dramatic that is Bombay rain. And since the first rains make concrete roads slippery (don’t ask why, they just do), I decided to wait till the water had dried up a bit before going home.
When I finally left office, the rain had stopped completely, leaving behind the glorious scent of rain-soaked earth, the slightest of chills in the breeze and a general feeling of peaceful well-being.
And then, before I’d reached even halfway, it started raining. Suddenly. Just like that. And instead of stopping and waiting under a tree till the worst was over (which would’ve been the logical thing to do), I continued riding, getting drenched to the bone in the process. The rain pelted me good – icy cold and sharp, like little shards of diamonds hurling from the sky. I just giggled, grinned and shivered through it, completely aware that I was making a spectacle of myself and not really giving a rat’s ass about it.
Like I said, it was a lot like love.