There’s something about the Indian monsoon that makes time bend. One moment you’re grown-up and glued to a Google Meet, the next, a streak of lightning and that first earthy whiff of petrichor drags you back to childhood. Suddenly, you're eight again, sitting by the window in an oversized T-shirt, watching rain race down glass like rival streams.
Monsoon, in most Indian homes, isn’t just a season…it’s an emotion. It’s mummy shouting “kapde andar lo jaldi!” (“Take the clothes inside!”) just as the breeze picks up and soaks the clothes drying outside. It’s school bags wrapped in plastic. It’s power cuts and candlelight storytelling. It’s the joy of time-capsule street snacks, bhutta roasted over roadside flames, steaming samosas shared from soggy newspaper, chai brewed till your soul felt rebooted.
And yes, the humble peanut. Or the thrilling moment someone walked in with hot, salted roasted peanuts tucked into a paper cone. That crunch? Pure monsoon memories.
But monsoon isn’t just joy, it carries a certain beautiful melancholy. The kind that makes you stare longer out the window, makes old songs sound deeper, and conversations feel softer. Maybe it’s the greyness, the pause, or just the sheer audacity of nature taking over a city built to resist it. Mumbai especially knows this dance all too well…the chaos, the romance, the disruption, the poetry.
These days, we ride it differently. Our umbrellas are fancier, our rain comes with app alerts, and our snacks come in resealable jars instead of newspaper cones. But that’s okay. Because even now, the right crunch, say, from a handful of Thai Chilli cashews on a grey afternoon—can still pull a memory from under the drizzle.
It’s funny how something as simple as a nut can taste like a rainy day. Maybe that’s why I always keep a jar of Go Nuts!! near my desk. For those moments when the city rains, and I just need a little time travel. Because sometimes, the best comfort food is just a handful of healthy munchies away.
– Pendora
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