A Relationship with Rain

We now resemble the Leaky Cauldron. More like standing beneath a Leaky Cauldron. The skies are suffering from a spell of Major Depressive Disorder. They have been crying for over 2 weeks with no respite....and I have a weird feeling I'm turning into an amphibian.

But I've recently discovered that I'm in a relationship with the rain. And it's complicated. (and I swear I am not repeating Himesh Reshammiya's dialogue from some movie. But it does sound eerily familiar.) So this Rain dude and I, we got along brilliantly the first couple of days. Eating spicy chaats, cold ice-cream, drives in the drizzle, staring at him through the window et al. But now he's getting to my nerves. Like quite literally, since I've been getting soaked everyday. So after tolerating him for over a fortnight, I've decided not to care anymore. And have fun DESPITE the endless tears he pours forth from the skies.

By doing what, you may ask?

Well, the first thing one ought to do in Delhi Rains is to get into a Bus. Not the bluelines, but one of those swanky low floored green buses. Not A/C either (because that's like sitting in an ice box). Just a fun looking empty green bus. Get into any one. And then solemnly ask the conductor where the bus goes to. If you're lucky (like I was), your bus will go all the way to Noida.

So find yourself a nice seat and begin the Dilli Darshan in the Drizzle. It's perfect, since the rain doesn't really enter but you still get a spray every now and then. And then you begin the most important activity. Observation.

Observe the young man sitting across the aisle. He is wearing earphones and listening to a song. He starts singing. Loudly and out of tune, but very gustily, I must add. He's closed his eyes and his giving his Emmy-worthy performance for an otherwise dull and gloomy crowd. A smile creeps up on one face at one corner and starts spreading soon like an infectious disease. Soon, the full bus is smiling. Reason? He's belting out 'Bheegi see...Bhaagi see...mere tuuunaaaoon mein samaye' (if you've heard the original song, you'll know that the tuuunaaaoon doesn't exist. This is what our Budding Burman makes up because he couldn't catch the actual word.)

Look out of the window now. You're at a higher altitude, and this doubles the powers of observation. Look at the cars slushing by you and trying to avoid the slush created by the adjacent car. (A warning: Don't look TOO inquisitively. The driver often gets mistakes your completely harmless interest for a potentially lethal one.) You may see the happy family riding in the happy car. The husband is looking at the graffiti on the flyover (Jaaaniya I love you....plzzz forgive me) as if it is the latest iPhone. The wife is looking at the wife of the next car and wondering why she's wearing a circus tent. The child is sleeping with a Pooh bear pillow. The mother-in-law is grimacing about the Delhi of today and trying very hard to enter a subconscious world of Delhi in the yesteryears. These expressions don't change for the next 7 kms.

You (or rather the bus) moves on. Finally, it begins the dream ride on the DND flyway. (for non Delhi-ites, this road connects Delhi to Noida and is beautiful...since it's across fields and the Yamuna bank with the river flowing somewhere inconspicuously.) You look at a large water body and realize that it's the Yamuna. She's fattened up and how! You wonder if people would mind if you stick your head out and soak in the rivery smell. You then see the window bars and realize that your bighead might not make it back inside. So you settle for a delicate whiff.

Finally, you reach Noida. You randomly get off on some stop because you can see a mall. With brilliant culinary opportunities. You rush to the place after crossing two main roads, and enter air-conditioned retail heaven. You eat your fill and then some. You then get out and try to find a way back home. You're told to ask bus drivers if the bus goes to Delhi. Suddenly, you feel like a foreigner. You nevertheless find yourself on a nice bus and zoom back home in twenty minutes. As you walk back from the stop, you feel yourself grinning from ear to ear.

Maybe being in a relationship with rain isn't so bad after all!

(And I PROMISE this will be the last of my weather related posts. I mean, I've written so many about the Summer/Winter already, that this is now resembling a weather forecast, rather than literary catharsis. No more, I swear.)