Rainy Monday Morning Blues

There are a few greyer combinations in life than a monday morning and rains. It is a strange thing, the sound I love to wake up to on a sunday morning, the swoosh of rain on the road outside, the drops dripping on the windows, I dread so much on a monday morning. Because rain on a sunday morning means more time in bed, reading the long lazy articles in the Sunday Times.

But the rain on monday morning is cold and damp, floods the road with garbage floating on the water and distrupts the trains and airlines and make me curse myself that I have once again postponed buying an umbrella.

And the idea of venturing out in the rain and then,finally doing so. Crossing the increasingly wet city through pools of water that ripple and rise in waves as vehicles pass through them, and the rain, lashing across the face, the back and the cold wind accompanying it.

It is not a healthy rain, the rain in the city it serves no purpose. It does not help the farmers nor it helps the water supply to the city because the lakes where the water is collected are outside the city often in places where it does not rain. And the raind do not clean the city either, because nothing can clean Mumbai, not even the municiplity.

I am not objecting to rains. I am only objecting to rains on monday morning.