The wind and the rain have begun in Bombay, and the city being what it is, one will be able to say, "The rain it raineth everyday," without pausing to draw breath, for the next three months, and not put a dent in the truth.
That the monsoon is always an occasion for cheer would probably be a source of surprise, if not astonishment, to people who live in more temperate climes; one can understand their point of view. In places where "Summer" implies beachball and sunshine that is warm without being oppressive, the thought of the skies opening to ruin the beachball and put paid to the sunshine is hardly a happy one.
The romantic associations of the monsoon aside, it certainly is one of the most pleasant times of the year. Finally at an end is the summer's dilemma of choosing between sleeping in relative comfort and doing your bit to preserve the habitat of the polar bear. And then there's the fact that nothing brings out the finer points of a murder mystery better than reading it during a thunderstorm. Even the squelchiness and dampness that can result from a July commute is bearable, when taken as a part of a happy whole.
Besides, is there anyone who really doesn't like the occasional walk in the rain? If such there be, go mark him well - in him no monsoon raptures swell. (With apologies to the poet Scott.)
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Bachchi...
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