The incessant rains have been far from romantic. When I had been to the capital for an exam in May, it had been dreadfully hot. It rained that night, possibly the first time in this summer. When my friend had put up a status update from an opposite end of Delhi, I perhaps couldn’t agree more. It was something like “I love the rains…..It has been terribly hot…..It is raining in Delhi”.
I would differ with him if he asked me now. I don’t stop at two swears each time it starts drizzling now. Or is it just me? My room has a window fixed to a desert cooler (so that it cannot be closed) and the cooler is barricaded by the wall of the opposite house. Each time it rains there is a shower of water inside my living space. My mattress gets wet unless I move it away from the wall. And every time I am relegated to sitting at a corner of the room, my mattress folded in half and waiting for the spell to end. I can do nothing more than swear and fume and this is the part that puts me off most. Such is my friendship now with the Delhi monsoon.
The other day it was raining cats and dogs when I got down at the AIIMS metro station. The enormous puddles and the maddening rapidity struck out like two big challenges. You just had to step out before you are so drenched; on another occasion you would think you forgot to take off your clothes before a bath. Commuters blocked the exit at Gate no. 4 as they marveled at the wrath of the heavens. Those that finally braved it (I too gave in eventually) crossed the dirty waters to the remnants of the footpaths. Some held
their shoes in hands and folded their trousers to the knees. And in my hurry to escape, I took a wrong bus.
Amidst such turpitude and my aversion of getting wet, imagine the helplessness in me when the bus turned left below the flyover instead of going straight over it. Stranded at a bus-stand that I couldn’t care to notice which it was and with little knowledge of Geography, I succumbed to what I least wanted to. I hailed an auto. Luckily it had stopped raining by the time I reached Satya Niketan. I dumped my clothes until my next washing day of the week and the shoes - they took two entire days to dry!!
In rains, every locality is a sight to see. They would qualify to be pleasant only if the rains occurred were once in a fortnight. Two spells in a day is too much. College is boring and few come to classes. When you live in a locality such as mine where the lanes become an obstacled course and you need to strategize before you can wade to the other side, it is far from fun. Worst is when it rains when you are getting ready to leave for college. Half change their minds right then, the more determined ones grope for shade at every turn on the road. You step out of your doors all smart and trim; then it starts raining and suddenly you have to dodge and dash to reach college in a presentable attire.
Albeit, it would be unjust not to write about the joy in watching the after-shower evenings. This is that brighter side of monsoons that the poets and lovers possibly write about. Because I can’t bring myself to think there can’t be any fun in getting wet. Cups of tea and samosas, and the football in the lawn makes it worth coming to college then.
It is time I bought a raincoat or umbrella……..Well, rain gods we pray to you.
Article By: Tonmoy Barua
Images Courtesy: Google
