Silent rain

I love the rain. I love pretty much everything about it, the before, during and the after. Since coming to Bombay, a city famed for its monsoon, I have been a bit disappointed with the rains. Or specifically the type of rain that rains on Bombay.

Growing up in the lower Himalayas and then going to college in Kansas in the US mid-west, famed for its tornadoes, I had developed a taste for a certain type of rain. The type that comes in grand style with thunder and rumblings in the clouds, the sky darkening to night in the middle of the day, the breeze picking up and bringing with it the smell of rain. And this was all before the rain started itself. I relished the prelude to the rain, the anticipation, the exhilaration and the energy it brought.

Here in Bombay, one hardly knows when it starts to rain and when it stops. It arrives without fuss, rains quietly and leaves without any drama.