A Changed Perspective.

“ Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby. ” -Langston Hughes Monsoon will always remain special for me, in fact to most of the people. That’s what Monsoon does to you. Regardless of how annoying it may be to travel with those wet, filthy feet or get splashed by those speeding cars or to get caught in those sloppy muddy potholes, get poked by unheralded umbrellas, monsoon creates a magic that is extremely hard to resist. The weather changes radically in Monsoon. The entire aura of the city becomes so soothing, so relaxing. Some call it “dull” however for a city like Mumbai that travels at the pace of the light, this alleged “dullness” is much needed. Monsoon teaches a lot, wondering what and how? Monsoon teaches us to share cabs, rickshaws, car pooling. It teaches a fast moving Mumbaikar to calm down, to gaze around, traffic jams reminds us to relish the radio songs or to look around

It’s been a year and I have mastered the art of pretending that I no more need you. “I don’t miss him anymore.”, “I don’t care which girl he is with today!”, “He is an ass, I hate him.” It’s painful to lie each time I am asked about you. I saw you walk aisle the road this morning with her and I couldn’t stop staring at you. Your deep eyes which now had a reflection of her, those gloaming strands of hair, seductive wicked smile, everything is just as alluring as it was then. Nothing has changed in you but the devastating change is that I can no longer play with your mellow hair, no longer kiss those luring lips. I so haven’t forgotten your smell.  I stood there while you walked, paying no heed to my presence.    With each step I took, there was a memory that was reminding me of the beautiful ‘us’.  I don’t know if it was me or you that drove us towards the south but I terribly regret this drive. I think our expectations ruin the imperfectly perfect idea of love. They say if you