Imagine this scene: you are on your comfy bed, wrapped up in layers and layers of blankets and in their warmth. Your worries are nowhere to be found. Next to your bed is a tall, ornate frame of window, separating you from the outside. It has been left a crack open for you to enjoy the snug atmosphere. Lashing against the window, making therapeutic sounds of melody is the rain. You are oblivious to the rhythmic chaos outside that the sound precedes.
In your hand is your favourite book, a book that creates an aura of safety and comfort around you. A small reading light brings clarity to the words on the pages in your hand, even as darkness engulfs the pedestrians outside. You sigh in bliss; there is no way you can get more relaxed than this… unless… someone brings in a hot bowl of Maggi for you. That someone happens to be your mom. Piping hot, the bowl warms your hand, while the steam wafting from the bowl mingles with the cold breeze that the torrential downpour outside has created. The aroma of the masalas lifts your spirit, it satisfies your soul… and stomach.
And now, finally, you are in heaven.
Now imagine you are on the other side of the window.
Your shoes are wet and your socks are soggy, soaked with muddy water. They are making a distinctively irritating pachak-pachak sound with every step you take. Your umbrella is inside-out because of the strong winds. Your hair is a mess; sticky and moist, it sticks on your face and smells awful. You have something in your left hand, something else in the other, and your shoulder balances the umbrella that is doing a poor job of keeping you dry. The one thing it is supposed to do, and it can’t even do that properly.
There is no way to cover your arms. They are exposed to the chilly drafts of air that graze you, tickle you and make your nipples pointy and sensitive. You might be getting sick as well, and the hunger that is starting to build in your stomach only adds to the shitty-ness of it all. You have to reach your destination, a few kilometres away, and the only way to get there is wading through brown, lumpy water that reminds you of roadside chai.
And of course, the rain has put a stop to all kinds of public transport. So you have no choice but to walk – oh sorry – swim through the swimming pool of chai (but we all know it’s not really chai…) trying to go where you want to. And then you happen to drop your deliciously sexy phone you were desperately clinging on to, from your right hand. Of all places, it happens to fall with a dull plonk into the muddy puddle. Yay you!
Good. So you are just like me.
Because today, in a span of a couple of hours, I happen to experience both… while I was sick, tired, hungry and sleepy!
But more on that later…
A short post for you guys. If there are any regular readers left, that is. Those in Mumbai, stay safe from the rains!