It’s been a while since we dealt with the monsoons in India. At first, it felt idyllic. I took pretty pictures of raindrops glistening on flowers on our terrace. I breathed in the earthy, first-rain smell that Indian authors love to describe in mind-numbing detail.
All that excitement lasted about a grand total of 5ish minutes.
After that, I was like, “Okay, this is JUST nuts.”
Like the hubbers aptly said, “Bangalore is the only city in the world where a bit of rain feels like a natural disaster.”
I had to agree after I had no choice but to wade through a murky, latté colored RIVER outside our apartment building. I quit taking pictures after that and chucked my rose-tinted glasses. It took all my mental faculties not to think about what might have lurked in that rain frappé. I came home and scrubbed myself till I looked like a white person who’d laid out on the beach all day trying to get a sun tan.
I decided that the rain is just lovely. As long as I’m home, dry and preferably reading a good book.
Here’s some evidence that it’s perhaps rainy season in Bangalore:
- Overnight the potholes hold a conference and decide to multiply like… I would say rabbits, but it’s more apt for India to say potholes. They’re like, “You complained about us before? Take THIS suckas!”
- People leave their brains at home before jumping in their preferred mode of transportation. Someone’s GOT to research this. Rain-induced brainless driving has to be a scientific fact.
- You factor in an extra 1/2 day to 1/4 of your life for any trip. You know that in less than a nanosecond you will encounter a brainless drivers’ convention where NOTHING moves except for cows. (Like Sonny Boy suggested, maybe riding cows is the answer to traffic woes.)
- You thank God for online grocery store deliveries.
- You feel bad for the delivery guy and your tip is proportionate to your guilt.
- You wonder if the kids’ school uniforms are ever going to dry in time.
- The washer cum dryer you saw at Croma now makes complete sense. (Did your husband talk you out of that one? Or was it the other way around? Either way, you want that dryer. Ritebout… NOW.)
- You know you’ll get a gazillion Whatsapp messages in mom’s groups about delayed bus routes. Not exactly the kind of literature you were hoping to curl up with.
- School pick up and drop off time is a war zone. You come back home with a mild case of PTSD.
- You think back to “rain holidays” in your school days. And paper boat races. And the croaking of frogs as you slept at night. If you survived the monsoons back then, you can do it again. Maybe.