By Manuwant Choudhary
This morning I woke up to heavy rains...the kind that makes you want to go to bed again.
Luckily, my taxi did not turn up so here I am writing.
I do like the rains...especially after a really long and hot summer.
The first rains when they hit the ground in rural India...the smell of the earth...quietens my nerves like nothing else...
Not sure if they have it in the spa.
But rains bring back all kinds of memories...from the rain pounding on tin roofs in the school dormitories of North Point in Darjeeling...to upturned umbrellas at Nariman Point in Bombay.
The fierce winds from the Arabian sea lashing across Marine Drive.
The local trains coming to a halt...and everyone trying to make their way home..like ants.
Bombay rains are said to be the most unpredictable.
The saying goes, "Bambai ka Barsaat, ghore ka laat aur neta ka baat ka koi bharosa nahin hai...." (The Bombay rains, the kick from a horse and the promise of a politician are all unreliable)
As a cub reporter in Bombay it was our job to call up the weather bureau each morning.
It was a routine and speaking to the weatherman over the years, the Reporters knew exactly what to expect.
So one day my colleague instead of calling the Weather Bureau chose simply to look out of the window and file her report.
In fact, sometimes even horoscopes were penned by creative reporters.
Rains are also about romance.
Bollywood has so many hit film songs featuring the rain dance.
My favourite memory is on a holiday abroad...it was pouring..so I had no option but to visit the nearest club for a meal.
As I walked hurriedly, I noticed someone trying to squeeze under the umbrella of a security guard...I could only see her feet...
Just as I was about to enter the club, the managers looked a bit hassled...they asked me to wait.
Then I see them frantically look for someone.
The girl under the umbrella.
All embarrassed I see a very beautiful girl emerge.
Her job...to accompany me in the lift.
And we just smiled all the way.
I still don't know her name.