Resurrection !



494. Four hundred and ninety four. Days gone by since I last wrote something for this webpage. I'm wondering what I've actually been doing over the last 494 days. But things have changed. Some things I wish had remained the same. Some, I'm glad changed. Like someone once said, "Change is the only constant in this universe". The best way to deal with it, in my opinion is to accept it. Nothing will remain. Not even this!
Wet clothes. Both, the ones worn and the ones hanging on the rope. Slimy, slippery pavements. Fungus growing everywhere. I sometimes felt if someone would'nt move their arm for a while, moulds would probably start flourishing. Dank, musty smell from locked cupboards. Clouds. The season i despised the most - the monsoon.
It took me a year and a half in Chennai, the land of never ending pitiless summer to realise the significance of the monsoon. When it first arrived, it always brought great respite from the heat. But two days of relentless bearing down by the clouds brought an end to one's prayers for rains. Travelling to College/ Hospital in the morning was what I detested most. Soaked to the bone as the day's work just started. Carry an umbrella, one may suggest. But anyone who has faced the sometimes totally ruthless south western monsoon would comprehend the difficulties of doing so. I sometimes felt the Rain Gods were having fun. Have you noticed that it always rained when you wanted to go somewhere really important?
But anyone who has been in the land of monsoon would agree. Monsoon brings beauty. Mangalore blooms during the rains! Lush greenery everywhere. The moment I land there, the first thing that stands out strikingly is the greenery. Drops of rain lashing across the windowpanes. Young girls walking around with those gigantic, bright, colourful umbrellas with the huge handles. It is almost a fashion statement! Grass, leaves, flowers, water everywhere. How Mangalore remains immaculately clean despite the never ending rains. Potholes. Rainbow. The melancholic weather. How Mamama fears the rains would ruin everything! Picking up 'dirbaankor' for choodi pooja with umbrella in one hand and (Scissor in the other in case of N Mai!!!) Pathrade paan and bimbool growing everywhere.Travelling in autorickshaws with the waterproof covers by the side. Drinking hot cha/kaapi with family, gazing out of our living room window. Bliss.


I miss Mangalore. I miss the monsoons. I hate it when Mom tells me everytime that it is raining. I have lived in places. But no place appealed to me as much as Mangalore. For me - “Agar zameen par jannat hai, to woh yahin hai, yahin hai, yahin hai". My apologies to Firdaus for picking up his lines on Kashmir. But I am no poet and these words seem to aptly describe my feelings.





PS - I realised what i missed most. Writing! Shall make an effort to keep doing so.....




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