Monsoon lilies in full bloom

This was the wonderful site I woke up to this monsoon morning.

I could count about 15 lilies in this plant and another 9 in the next one.

It's amazing how rain water can make these plants flower. There's obviously some property of rain water that is killed before it is treated and sent to homes in the city. That missing ingredient brings these beautiful pink flowers to my home every monsoon.

Monsoon mess in Mumbai

I find it amusing that year after year, this city lacks the total ability to handle something as basic as the monsoons. This year, the rains caught the city by surprise a couple of weeks early but it's no excuse for the mess. What's more amusing is that people have the same complaints every year. Come on people, spend a week in Delhi in baking 45 degree heat and then complain about the weather here.

This is the way I look at the wonderful rainy season in Bombay. Wear darker t-shirts and shorts and slippers or rubber open-ended sandals. Keep an adequate supply of disinfectant at home and make sure your feet are clean once you step indoors. Last year, the rainy season lasted beyond October and the last shower was on my birthday (November 4)!

Enjoy the rains with warm tea and samosas. Spend a few evenings by the sea-side promenades and if you're getting wet, just remember that more than 60 percent of the population have to worry about their shanties getting flooded.

Monsoons make strange Samaritans

With a heavy downpour over Andheri Station and I had no choice just to battle the elements and fight my way home. I couldn't be sure when it would be stop raining or if the flood-water would recede. In this chaotic mess, I found myself untangled in an unusual situation.

A young lady in a full burkha was crossing the street at the same time as me and she nearly fell twice in the wind and was struggling to stand still with the flood-waters. Given the number of potholes in S.V. Road, there was a lot of hidden and lurking danger. As I moved ahead, I noticed that she needed help but I wouldn't dare to volunteer, given my fear of getting lynched by her religious co-practitioners. But she grabbed my arm, albeit with hesitation and apologies, and we crossed the Brahmaputra-like conditions in suburban Bombay.

As I was telling her that there's no need to apologize and the wind blew her veil off and I made direct eye contact with her. The burkha hid a beautiful and pale face and ocean-blue eyes. It was a strange moment when we made such strong eye-contact. She covered her face as we reached the other side and she said goodbye with a thank you. Something tells me that the beautiful face is covered out of compulsion from home. How sad!