Mumbai rain is not romantic.
It is romantic for exactly one kind of person.
The kind who has a roof that doesn't leak.
A job that lets them work from home.
A kitchen with enough to make chai.
A phone with enough data to post about it.
For everyone else —
Mumbai rain is three days of damage control.
The ragpicker whose entire day's collection got soaked.
The construction worker sleeping in a half-built building with no walls.
The school kid who hasn't attended class in three days
because the road between her home and school
is currently a river.
We talk about privilege like it's an abstract concept.
Mumbai rain makes it visible
I’ve been waiting at Ahmedabad railway station since 3 PM.
The train hasn't been cancelled. The train hasn't started either.
It's 9 PM now.
No announcements. No clear updates. No ETA. I asked the TC, the staff, and everyone I could find. The answer is the same every time - “We don't know."
My journey is from Ahmedabad to Mumbai, and I have an international flight to catch. Ironically, I was supposed to be reaching Mumbai around this time. Instead, I'm still standing where I started, while flights are getting cancelled one after another.
I completely understand that Mumbai's rains are beyond anyone's control and safety should always come first. But keeping thousands of passengers in complete uncertainty for hours isn't.
Sometimes, the hardest part isn't the delay
it's not knowing whether to wait, leave, reschedule or simply give up.
They say rains are romantic. They are until your entire travel plan, months of planning, connecting flights, hotel bookings and peace of mind are washed away with them.
Today's lesson: Nature is unpredictable. Communication shouldn't be.