By Vimal Kapoor
The monsoons have finally sneaked into Doon Valley. The arrival of the much-awaited monsoon evokes countless moods. You love it or hate it, nonetheless, you simply cannot avoid it, leave aside ignoring it. A friend says he feels contemplative, another remembers observing rain trickling down litchi leaves, a housewife laments the fact that washed clothes are not drying up, and if she is in a good mood the family gets to enjoy ‘pakodas’ and steaming coffee as rain drums on the roof. Yet another gets into the mood to write poetry, the more adventurous take out their bikes and go for a ride on Rajpur Road without any raincoat, though to be honest, the writer in me feels that monsoon is nature’s symphony!
A couple of days back I walked down to Paltan Bazaar armed with a blue umbrella. Dark clouds
loomed overhead, casting a cool and misty ambiance upon the scene. The air was heavy with the scent of wet earth and freshly drenched foliage, creating a refreshing and invigorating atmosphere. As the monsoon rain started to pour down, the market scene underwent a captivating transformation.
Shopkeepers hurriedly adjusted their awnings and umbrellas to shield their colourful array of merchandise from the downpour, creating a patchwork of sheltered spaces and dripping canvases.
Underneath the sheltered areas, people gathered, seeking refuge from the rain. The market was teeming with a diverse mix of individuals – locals and tourists alike – carrying vibrant umbrellas and donning raincoats, their steps accompanied by the gentle splashing of puddles. Each person seemed to have a unique way of embracing the rain, some savouring every droplet with others trying to evade it.
The shops came alive with a variety of goods showcased despite the weather. Colourful fruits and vegetables gleamed with freshness, their vibrant hues accentuated by the rain-kissed surfaces. As I walked past ‘Laxmi Restaurant’ the aroma of freshly made ‘dosa’ and brewing tea mingled with the scent of spices and street food delicacies. Some eating joints skilfully whipped up delectable snacks like steaming momos and sizzling samosas, their fragrant fumes merging with the rain-soaked air.
Paltan Bazaar was transformed into a kaleidoscope of hues as rainwater cascaded down the canopies, creating a glistening backdrop that seemed to amplify the energy of the surroundings.
Despite the rain, the market remained abuzz with activity. Shoppers, armed with umbrellas and raincoats, found their way through the temporary puddles and slippery pathways, searching for their desired goods. Bargaining banter filled the air as locals and tourists engaged in lively negotiations, their animated voices cutting through the soothing rhythm of rainfall.
Children, unaffected by the wetness, gleefully splashed in puddles, their laughter echoing through the market, infusing an air of joy and innocence, some even floated paper boats in the swiftly forming rivulets, rekindling my childhood nostalgia.
And then rapidly the beat increased as if heavens were playing a majestic orchestra and whispering – ‘Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain’! There was no way it was slowing down now, it simply lashed everything! I have seen Paltan Bazaar becoming a mini-river as the drains overflowed, and water ran rapidly, covering the entire width of the road. Doonites are lucky that gradient and gravity make the water disappear fast after the rain ceases!
When the rain finally fizzled out, the trees looked different. Lustrous, dark green-covered branches tapered off into tender greens and yellow budding leaves. The hills of Mussoorie appeared freshly painted with ‘mera wala green’. An occasional gust of wind brought down a little shower of water droplets.
After the rain, the streams of water began to diminish in power and quantity, slowing down to mere trickles and ending up as strings of unconnected little puddles. The air felt pure and clean, as the dust had been washed away. I inhaled the moisture-heavy breeze and filled my lungs with the smell of wet earth as the leaves were adorned with diamond-like drops. Exult and dance … the monsoon has majestically arrived!
(Vimal Kapoor, a Dehradun resident, is passionate about literature, creating writing,
cricket and exploration through travel)
