And it falleth from heaven

Mumbai rains have a mind like mine – fickle. A fat blob of distilled water, reluctantly falling from the too heavy to float clouds in the heavens up above, comes and hits your head with a soft vengeance, a kind of vengeance that is almost sorrow. The sorrow of being torn apart from your element, pulled away from your paradise. That cloud is where the party is at. All the high flying and happening water droplets meet up here to rock to the thundering musing and electrifying lighting effects. Some water drops in their party high and moment of drunken indiscretion forget when to put that glass of intoxicant down. Next thin’ they know is they are piss-drunk, no longer in control of themselves. No longer aerodynamic a fat blob of water falls unwillingly from the happening heavens up above, forced apart from dear like minded friends, onto your naked skin with a feeling of deep deep regret.

The above article is dated Tuesday, June 27, 2006 7:46:24 PM

This is the most abstract piece of writing i've ever written. It was written in a car in a traffic jam in mumbai. It was ofcourse inspired by the fact that the rains couldnt decide whether to fall or not, therefore making my indecision about opening the umberalla constant. Besides if you really wanna avoid getting wet in Mumbai, get an umbrella that doubles up as a boat. Falling from the sky is a kind of Sazaa-e-Kaalapani, before you know it they've built a civilization of outcasts also known as floods.