Monsoon

Surat, Gujarat, India.

I’ve always loved rains deep in my heart. The only part I hated was the outcome of puddles, brown water, broken hairs of people and all kinds of dirt on earth, tiles and grounds, wet animal dungs on the road and places. It’s too disgusting. I wonder how people can easily ignore that and get on with their lives. And no one even bothers to get rid of it. They just overstep it. And the god-awful unknown smells of the world at one place, which I never want to talk about.

The only beautiful aftermath of rains are petrichor, lingering for minutes, but oh, those minutes are so worth it and people trying to get rid of rainwater on them like scurring ants, some heart-filled people and kids and children enjoying the rains; I’m quite lucky to be the observer of all this from my balcony.

It becomes quite dramatic for me, if I have to enjoy the incessant raining or if I really want to; I plug in my headphones and play Stranger In Moscow by Michael Jackson and feel like a composition of a typical monsoon season roll out in front of me, feeling everything at once. And that’s how I feel monsoon and remember how I used to love monsoon entirely without any complaints or problems.

I become quite an O.C.D., an entirely different person during monsoons, needing every nook and corner to be clean or what, but if my home feels dirty, I clean it by myself, but nevertheless, I can never stop my mother’s unstoppable complaining of always being me, the one to keep the house dirty. I don’t bother explaining her anything. And when outside, I try my hardest to avoid anything wet or slippery and mind me, that’s the only time I also prevent eating outside food and I don’t even regret it.

It’s not that I hate monsoon so much, it’s just that it’s cloudy and dark all freaking day and it feels boring to even complete your daily chores. I entirely love Summer. Summer has vacation, full-on heat, mangoes to devour, short trips to beaches, lying in front of my TV all day long with food and if you ask me, I’ll describe this as best type of living, but good things like bad things pass too.

If you quite look at this entire entry, you might compare it with a life of a grandmother or like the one of stay-at-home mom’s, almost staying at home all day and avoiding everything at all costs. I don’t know, just this thought popped up. The weird inspiration I get from rains are from two things only. Ruskin Bond and downpours. Yeah, that’s it. It’s not the scenery nor the rainbow nor that tiny streak of sunlight that seeps through the clouds but that. As if I’m obsessed with it or something, I don’t know, but it has been that since last 2-3 years.

Ambica River, Bilimora, Gujarat, India.

Well, that’s pretty much it, about monsoons I know, and I might’ve missed some topics I know. And everything includes in that till the entire season. Odd that I haven’t included unknown bugs and insects and lightning bolts or streaks at all.

Instagram: @priyaranderi


Β© t_r_a_v_e_l_l_e_r

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