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   The monsoon has never been my favourite season... (June 21, 1990)

The monsoon has never been my favourite season. So I am glad that after last week's deluge, the weather has dried out, the clouds have scattered, the sun reaperared and it is bright and sunny all over again.

Perhaps, this is my best season of the year, in-between the rains. A week of fine dry weather in the middle of the monsoon. It is like the early monsoon has set up the season. Greeting the grass, cleaning the streets, freshening the air, cooling the temperature.

The end of June, early July, sometimes even parts of August, when the rains make a temporary retreat, they are the best days of the yeat in Bombay.

January is tolerable, except when it gets too cold or remains too warm. People laugh when they hear about a cold January in Bombay, but there is a sort of a sickening cold, not the healthy and bracing cold of the north, but a sudden fowering of temperature and damp winds sweeping in from the sea.

By March, of course, the weather starts warming up. The mornings are still pleasant, but you feel the heat in the afternoons and early evenings. However, it is a weather I can take in my stride. I can do that with most of April also, a little heat never harmed anybody.

But May is summer at its peak. Those with more responsive glands sweat, others burst out with prickly heat. If there was no Nocil, it would be impossible to go through the month. In the earrlier days, May had certain advantages, but these have disappeared. It was the month when half of Bombay went away-to the hills, to Raj Travel tours, to wherever it had originally come from. Their combined departure left the city cool and empty. But now there are many people in Bombay that even if 50 per cent of them go away, it does not show.

The monsoons are monsoons, and they often extend into September. These days you never know with the monsoons, why blame the poor whether bureau. They come late and go early, or they come early and go late, or come early and go early, orÖ

October often is worse than May, or so I am told. I have not found it so. And the winter that follows, of course, is a joke. Unless you are not in a joking mood.

But this is the best part of the yeat: blue skies, green grass, bright golden sunshine. Let us enjoy it. By weekend it may be raining again.

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