Wake me up when September ends

It doesn’t rain too much Mumbai anymore. And I slimily miss that about the city. In fact, it hardly did rain at all this season – and now September shall end and monsoon is over. I like the rains – maybe because I stay, nestled safely in South Bombay, where a rainy day only means going out in flip-flops and life goes on as usual – no wading in the knee-deep water logging, no autos chugging and suddenly dying on me, no slish-slosh of the mucky stations – only the turbulent, gorgeous sea, cutting chai at Marine drive, watching the rain drops make a pretty pattern on my office window, and letting the light “barber-shop-like” spray come in my room at night with the thanda-thanda breeze. So yes, I guess monsoon for me has been nice – starting from the first day when the downpour came sans warning and I got drenched and ended up buying an over-priced umbrella on the road which broke in the next 10 days – to last evening, when I actually liked getting a bit wet in the rain and didn’t run indoors.
I usually don’t like getting wet in the rain, mostly because my hair gets frizzy and I can sometimes be quite a vanity case. But last night I let the big droplets just crash onto me indulgently while I continued to walk at my own slow speed. Also, the other day, I loved getting wet in the rain and imagined that it made my skin glow. For some odd reason, the rain has been a very cathartic force in my life of late – I let myself go when the waterdrops start to hit me, raise my chin up and let the water splash on my face, sometimes spread my arms very filmy ishtyle – and feel cleansed and lighter and happier after that.
Its become such a habit to hear the water lashing at my window on some nights, or to wake up to a really fresh day, to be pleasantly surprised and sometimes rudely shocked at its unpredictability, to know that ‘ohhhkay today is my converse chappals day’ and decide not to see the face of my new silver satin buhloody expensive heels till every bit of the water in the sky dries up. I am so used to my rainy season gear- the capris and the non-white tshirts, my retro flowery umbrella which is a permanent resident of my bag, a bright red plastic-ey scrunchie and the rubbery sole chappals, that seeing the season faze away is almost depressing me. What also adds to the misery is the fact that I am going to hit mid-20’s soon. I think I’d rather have slept the month away.
Wake me up when September ends?