Inkstorm

Tales of the Monsoon

One of the main seasons in India is the rainy season, and I love the wet days. I was born on a rainy, wet July day in a vibrant town on the banks of the mighty river Bramhaputra. From my childhood, when the others frowned and made excuses not to be present in school, I always carried my bag on my back and went off to school.

Due to my father’s transferable job, my family and I had the opportunity to stay in good cities as well as some of the best hill stations in India. The hill stations have their own charm during the monsoons. This is a nice piece of an incident that took place when we were in Dehradun. It was the first week of August, and the head of the department in History, Dr. Bagchi, told us that we would have extra History classes as he wanted to take classes on ‘The French Revolution’. 

Accordingly, we came home for lunch and packed some butter and cheese sandwiches for the boys and girls who used to come from Raipur as they couldn’t go home being far from the college.

My friend came to my house, and as we started to go, it started pouring, and sheets of rain almost made us scared that perhaps we would not be able to reach the college. Our mothers too were worried, but as usual, we loved adventure and told them not to worry, as the two of us would surely reach college.

We put on our raincoats and started walking. It was a 15-minute walk from our house, but, oh! God, Nandita’s slipper heels broke, and the heels came out. I gave her my hanky, and she tied the broken slipper, and somehow, dragging her foot, we reached class.

The rest of the students were playing indoor games, and when they saw us, they all said that Dr. Bagchi had canceled the class. Now what? We were five girls and four boys, and it was continuously raining. All of a sudden, we made up our minds to go to the canteen. We were all wet, and the boys took our dupattas to wipe their heads.

The canteen was full, but Ramu Bhai and Sanju arranged a few chairs for us. Our group sat down, and we ordered samosas and hot masala tea, followed by jalebis. The sandwiches that we carried had to be thrown away as they got wet and soiled. You know, readers, that on that special day, the samosas tasted like heaven and the cup of tea was such a relief as we were all wet. Together, we sang songs, and some of them danced in joy.

By the time we reached home, it was past 6 p.m., and our mothers were standing at the T-point with big umbrellas. They were relieved to see us. None of us went to college the next day as we were under the weather with a cough and cold, and a few of us had fevers too.

Just today, after so many years, I found the wet July to be more interesting. In the morning, my daughter and I visited the Phoenix Mall, and it was more or less a clear morning. After a few shopping trips, the gray clouds came down to pour water. We passed some time having coffee at Starbucks and came out, but Lo! The sky still appeared, unable to make up its mind whether to continue or stop.

Here we tried to book the Uber and were successful in showing 10 minutes, but every minute was like an hour. Finally, the driver, after repeatedly telling him the location had come but went past, cancelled the trip. Now what????????????????

My daughter booked another Uber, and after waiting for 7 minutes, we finally reached home, all drenched. We had a hot cup of chocolate and remembered the day.

It was good. Surely rain brings life to nature’s beauty and opportunities for adventures.