Torrentia.

So the last few weeks, I’ve completely ignored the blog. As I lie sleepy-headed and exhausted after one hell of a first exam, I’ll try to bring it back to life.

Who designs college classrooms? Desks, to be specific? Has anyone ever bothered to think of the heinous discomfort that tall people go through while sitting on one of those ingenious creations? One leg bent crooked one way, the other doing a somersault three feet away, giving the next person inadvertent kicks in the shin. Sometimes the next person gets scandalized, suspecting an apparent attempt at playing footsie. Of course, the simpler alternative is to mercilessly break the shelves under the desks. But breaking one a week is simply over-doing it a bit, no?

Is there a bigger thrill than whizzing by in the car in torrential rain at twilight, half-drenched and jaunty? I like NH 4, at least around the area when it winds through the greenish-yellow sun-bathed hillocks in the midst of the city. When you can see the entire city: young and old, skyscrapers (or our version of them) and the jhopadpattis, the GM showrooms and the Neerawallas, one contrast after another. Annoyed pedestrians who get sprayed from the brimming ‘streams’ on the roads. Nonchalant bikers who think they’re in a powerboat race. And then, just as fate would have it, ‘November Rain’ plays. Did I really just get out of an exam?

There is still nothing that beats the official onset of the monsoon. When it starts raining, look around. Five of every ten people you see are taking in the smell of the ‘oli maati’. Count. Build a probabilistic model if you like. Everyone just shuts up about their troubles, makes ‘gavati chaha’ and ‘bhaji’ and eats. I’m no psychic, but I swear I thought the monsoons would begin today. Of course, in hindsight, no one would believe me, and I’d have to rue the fact that I didn’t announce my premonition to anyone earlier.