A Different Rain

I remember the rain in my early childhood days, when the Khurbura Streets would flood. Once it abated, all of us kids would bring out those glossy covers of magazines and make boats out of them. Standing at the helm of our doorsteps, we'd then race our boats in the running water.

I remember that rain in which I, then aged around seven, had walked all the way to our new house in Vijay Park from my school a good five six kilometers away, and in which my family members had thought that I was lost.

I remember the rain which came hurtling along some road near the Mumbai docks in the summer of '95 trip, and Chachu, Dad and I had stopped the scooter and ran to take shelter as it approached us from the other direction.

I remember the rain on our trek back to Govindghat from Hemkund Sahib, when I was in standard eighth, that had come as a dangerous menacing devil on those muddy forest slopes.

I remember the rain which I had seen in Dalhousie three years back that had turned into soft snowflakes as five then-friends sipped Blue Riband Vodka (for lack of any better brand) sitting around a bonfire.

I remember the sweet French drizzle of June' 07, which I walked in as I headed to the internship centre back from a lunch break.

I remember the crazy rain last year on 26th July, a day before I was supposed to fly to NYC, as I had stood outside Phoenix Mills compound, dragging a big suitcase in one hand and holding an umbrella in the other, trying to hail taxis who wouldn't agree to take me home for it was but not more than Rs.30 far.

But, I haven't in my life ever seen a rain like one I saw today. Maybe it was just a normal shower. However, out in Arabian Sea, sitting on top of a ferry to Elephanta, the rain hurtled as a frenzied shower of bullets, and at an almost horizontal level. The drops seemed much bigger than your Mr. Regular Raindrop. In short, it took us not more than two minutes to realize that the premium of Rs10 apiece (over and above the ticket cost of course) which we had paid to sit on top, was indeed quite pointless. Thus doled out a crushing defeat, we sounded the trumpet of retreat, and ran down the stairs back to the sheltered main deck.

It was awesome by the way, the whole goddamn experience. Loved it! (And the Beer at the MTDC Restaurant on the Elephanta top, but that's a different story)

P.S. - Vodafone doesn't follow you wherever you go. The signal didn't. And in the rain, the Vodafone Umbrella a guy was holding, didn't. It just flew off into the services of yours truly, Mr. Arabian Sea.