Mumbai Monsoon

When it rains in Mumbai

the clouds pour oceans

the sea rises to meet the clouds

half way in competitive profusion.

The roads disappear, cars buses

line up half topped, all traffic

in paralysed stupor waits and waits:

Mumbaikars know the rains have arrived

umbrellas, duckbacks are seen

in Bollywood cameras romancing

on waterways in waist deep slush

Mumbai moves cursing the BMC

in taxpayers lingua for this

annual fracas in wet misery.

 

But lovers in helpless rage

blurt out expletives failing to reach

the rendezvous at the coconut

vendor on Marine Drive in restless

looks at the wrist and the sky.

Those less unfortunate in undrowned

Gateway of India move slowly

for dinner and dance at Taj Palace.

 

Networks fail, landlines ring

I am stuck - the line goes off

In Jahuri Market the pot bellied

Seths wait smoking bidis for customers

and watch serials on TV,

far away on one way streets

you hear the auspicious conch

muted laughter of wedding guests.

Officers run in usual disinterest

commuters muddy platforms

the stranded await new signals.

 

Film cameras shoot the scenes

for future use, the CST crowd

prays the rain god for a break

the tea sellers put on stuffs

in lonely corners: But

brave pedestrians wade through,

eyes through apartment windows

watch distant lanes of stuck up cars.

 

Newlyweds in five R flats

watch Mira Nair's Monsoon Wedding

in a mused smile of anticipation

Mumbai moves on thunderous

pace changing peaks for fancy.

Sabita Sahu