Monsoon magic!

Monsoon is my favorite season. I love everything about it. I love waking up to the sound of rain, allowing the raindrops to make love to my skin, sipping hot tea while watching colorful umbrellas dancing on wet streets. I love the monsoon magic. Some people love rain only from a distance while some run outdoors as soon as the first raindrop falls from the sky. I belong to both the categories.

I decided to make the most of this monsoon magic by writing about it. A friend of mine who is a wonderful photographer decided to collaborate with me. Together, Subhiksha and I created the monsoon series!!!



Monsoon through her eyes looked like the best season in the world.
I had hated monsoon for almost all of my life until I met her.
She came into my life with that huge umbrella of hers and a laugh that sounded just like the rain.
I fell in love. How couldn’t I?
Her wet hair that somehow never stopped caressing her pink cheeks, those eyes that would start giggling as soon as it started drizzling, those hands that brought me mugs of hot chocolate which we devoured while hiding in her favorite blanket.
My hands warming her body and her love warming my soul.
She loved the rain a little too much and somehow I found too many similarities between the two.
Just like the rain made me anticipate its arrival by coloring the skies grey, I knew she would soon be in my arms when my heart beats changed like they always did when she was near. Just like the rain, she too suffered from moodswings. One moment gentle like the soft pitter patter, another roaring like the storm.
Having her in life was like having the grey skies and the rainbow at the same time.
I loved her at all times but I loved her most when she would throw away her umberalla and dance to the music of the rain.
Her see through shirt, her wet hair and that smile which somehow always teased me would make my heart skip a beat.
Falling in love with her was like falling in love with the rain.
You always wanted more of the rain.
You always wanted more of her.
It’s been a year since I let her go.
I still remember that day clearly. I can never forget it. I left her without a reason. No explanation, no apologies.
She stood in the rain. Her weeps mixed with the sound of rain still haunt me.
I let her go because I couldn’t handle her love.
She didn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve to be treated that way.
I broke her heart just because she loved me a little too much. She was the perfect girlfriend, the kind of girl who can make anyone fall in love with her.
I couldn’t deal with too much love. I needed the kind of girl who wanted sex and cigarettes, not someone who needed cuddles and coffee dates.
I left her alone in the middle of the road on a rainy day.
She screamed and cried but I walked away without a single look.
What was her fault? Her only fault was that she was a girl who loved in a world where everyone else was simply looking for fun.
She wasn’t like the girls who hopped onto bikes of random strangers or only laughed when she was drunk.
She was different, she was special. She was magic in a world which had people bragging about black souls.
She was my magic and I broke her soul.
I saw her yesterday . It was raining heavily just like that day but there was no other similarity.
She was laughing and the one who was making her laugh was holding her hand.
She was trying to cover her face and he was trying to click pictures of her. Of that beautiful face that once was the first thing I looked at each morning.
She was laughing and playing with his hair and he was holding her in his arms.
They looked like the perfect couple making the most of the romantic Bombay rains.
It could have been me.
I could have been the one kissing her soft lips, removing her wet hair that covered half of her face, laughing with her and watching her eyes shine with happiness.
Right now I’m sitting in my apartment. Lonely and miserable.
I would give anything and everything to have her sleep in my arms once again while the raindrops write our love story.
But I was the one who let her go.
Each time it rains, I’ll die a little because the girl who once was mine is now spending monsoon nights in another’s arms.

I never thought I could fall in love.
I was happy with hotel rooms and the many women.
They left each morning without a care and I smoked cigarettes with a smile.
I didn’t need love. How wrong was I.
I met her on a rainy day. She was struggling to open her umbrella and half of her face was covered by her hair.
Her lips were smiling and I wondered how a girl could smile at such a time. Most girls I had been with hated rains and constantly complained about their hair getting spoilt.
She wasn’t like that. When her umbrella didn’t open, she simply kept it inside and walked out to get drenched.
Damn. That face.
I can never forget that face. Her big eyes making love to the grey skies, her shoulders covered in raindrops, her lips had no lipstick and yet I couldn’t wait to kiss them.
The same guy who had seen countless women undress, the same guy who never even knew anything about love and the same guy who had kissed so many lips without any emotion was standing in the middle of the road watching his heart jump out of his body and towards that beautiful girl who looked like an angel.
I went and spoke to her. She smiled. I instantly knew she was the sweet kind. A girl so beautiful must surely be a little rude. She wasn’t.
I told her there was a small place nearby that served the best coffee.
She hesitated but then she found the place packed with people and said yes.
She spoke a little about herself.
When other girls spoke, I pretended to listen. And now, I was dying to know more about her.
I planted a soft kiss on her lips.
Her eyes welled up with tears. She started to walk away. I stopped her.
She wasn’t like the rest just asking for fun in this beautiful weather.
I knew I shouldn’t have done that. I should have waited. I wanted to kick myself hard.
I watched her getting inside the cab and just like that she was gone.
I went back to my apartment and to the many women that undressed for me in a minute.
Yet when they left I didn’t smile.
Instead I cried.
That monsoon night, I realized the meaning of karma.
The same guy who never cared about anyone’s heart was now spending a June’s night crying over his own broken heart.

My wife is in labour.
She is screaming in pain while I’m trying to drive as fast as possible despite the rain.
Watching her face covered in sweat and tears makes me want to hug her right now.
But I need to get her to the hospital. I need to get there as soon as possible.
Our kid is as impatient as her and cannot wait to come into this world.
I think our happiest moments are always filled with a little sadness. You see, the universe cannot fill your life only with sunshine.
The rain started banging on the window even fiercely and just at that very moment, my car stopped.
It stopped in the middle of the road with my wife inside screaming because our kid was too eager to come in this world.
I prayed. I had never been the kind of person who prayed but at that moment I only prayed.
I don’t know if it were my prayers or the fact that I love my wife more than anything else in the world.
A car stopped and a man got down.
Ten minutes later, we finally reached and she was rushed inside.
I couldn’t stop those tears from flowing from my eyes.
I needed her to be safe. I needed my kid to be safe.
After what seemed like an eternity, I heard a cry.
A cry as beautiful as the sound of rain.
There on that hospital bed lay my beautiful wife holding the most beautiful baby in the world.
She was finally here. My daughter was here and my wife was alive.
I kissed her forehead and took my beautiful girl in my arms.
Her eyes were blue and I looked outside the window and smiled.
We had lost our first baby two years ago.
It had rained heavily that day. But it was our tears that turned the skies black.
Today, finally we have our baby.
The hurt will never be forgotten. How can I forget that monsoon day which turned our world upside down? Since then, my wife who had always loved rain started hating it.
Isn’t this a huge coincidence that our baby girl is born when the world is filled with giggling raindrops once again?
I look at my wife smiling at the sight of the raindrops falling from the sky.
I hand her our daughter.
My entire world is right in front of my eyes.
The rain has brought back our happiness.



I’m an eighty year old man who recently lost his wife.
I remember every little thing about her.
I forget to put sugar in my tea, I sometimes go outside without wearing my shirt, I cannot remember what I ate for breakfast but I remember every single thing about her.
I remember her laughter, her cheeks that doubled in size when she was upset,her love for adventures, her crazy ideas that always landed us in trouble but most of all I remember her kissing my lips with her eyes closed on monsoon nights which were her favorite.
We met when we were eighteen. They say college is for flirting and fun but for us, it was love. True love.
We met in the month of June and I instantly fell in love with the girl who was absolutely in love with monsoon.
Bombay rains and her. My eyes fill with tears but I smile each time I think of us sitting at Marine drive without an umbrella. She hated umberellas. She said raindrops were supposed to make love to your soul.
We spent every monsoon together.
It was us getting drenched together, helping each other remove those wet clothes, sipping coffee at 6, listening to the rain at 12 before falling asleep in each other’s arms. It was us. Always us.
Her love for monsoon cannot be described. I had never seen a girl laughing while her favorite outfit was covered in dirt and her lipstick almost invisible.
She was different and she was mine. Only mine.
Now I’m sitting alone in our house watching the rain while sipping coffee.
I miss her especially during monsoon.
If she was here, she would have giggled like a teenager.
But I am not upset. Our life was beautiful. We were lucky to find each other so early in life.
There are beautiful women and then there was her. She was magical. And when she laughed while wearing her see through top during rains, you had to remind yourself to breathe.
We spent sixty two years together. Sixty two monsoons together, and this first monsoon without her feels lonely.
But I know she is here. She is here in the form of rain, asking me to open the windows and feel her love.
I do just that and I can feel the raindrops tickling my lips.
She is still as naughty.
I laugh.There will never be anyone like her
Now that you have read the entire series, I hope you have fallen for the monsoon magic too.
Also,if you must have noticed, all the stories are from a man’s point of view. I wanted to try this from a long time and I hope you like it.
Thank you for being a part of these monsoon stories. I hope you create a few of your own and find that monsoon magic real soon.

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