The Mussoorie Monsoons

The summer heat in the plains of North India seems to burn the spirits down. The partched souls run to Mussoorie not just for relief from the heat, but also for a well deserved break. There is a lot of mayhem in town and the streets are over-crowded. The noise in the streets is almost deafening at times. The town of Mussoorie seems to be celebrating a month long festival from May to June. All things that are close to humans, the shops and the tourist destinations, see a never ending trail of visitors.

All of this comes to a crashing halt with the first Monsoon rain. The rain brings down with it the soaring temperatures. The earth smells better than the sweetest perfume. The landscape is freah and it is time for people to get back to work.

Mussoorie, like a temple courtyard immediately after the festival,is left in ruin. The garbage that people left behind can still be seen on the hillside. Like the festive flags on the road lying unattended, the summer decoration of the town stares back at the traveller.

This is the point when the fog slowly creeps in and engulfs the entire town. The mountains down in the valley are the first to disapper. Then the distant hills. And finally after a little while you find it hard to see the things merely 20 feet off. This fog is not a two day visitor. It comes to Mussoorie to stay. It covers up the ugly remains and ensures that you keep your eyes just around your steps. You focus on where you are going. You do not venture out idlly the way you did in summers. You think before you do. The mist and the fog, limit your sight just to show you the world immediately around you.

Sometimes it is so disgusting just to see the gray. But then, all the while when the festivities were on, you hardly seemed to be paying attention to your own steps. You directions were chosen with little care. Your steps were free and mostly guided by the "looks" around.

Mist is great! It makes you think. It makes you concentrate.

Rain drops have a special significance for all lover hearts. They hold a special meening in all dreamer's mind. Raiondrops are pure. They clean. They wash. There are some wwho shut their umbrella in the rain and walk like Vagabonds in search for a destination. There are others who run away from it. Rain cleans.

The beautiful mist rolls down the hills once in a while to expose the new world. The dirt is gone. The hillside is clear. And what remains is the fresh greenery. The road has shrubs almost leaning over it and all looks os very fresh. Now, when you see teh world around, things are less like the summers. The mayhem has dis-appeared. The chaos is gone. All you are left with is a fresh Mussoorie.. and a somewhat fresh you.

Then there you are in the month of October. The rain is long gone. The world is new. And you find yourself preparing for the cold winters ahead.

Let their be mist and rain in your life. It cleans. It prepares.

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This post of mine may look a bit drunk to most of us. In-fact it is. In all the poor language knowledge that I have, all I have tried to do here is to porteray the like of a man that is me.

There are times when so muuch is happeneing. You are almost on a road to the destination and all seems to work out fine (May). Then, out of nowhere the monsoons come. All is gone. You loose sight of almost all the things that were around you. They seem to vanish somewhere. This gives an opportunity to introspect and to clean the self. When you have only yourself to manage things are different. Very different.

Winter is coming. -. More work is coming. Tougher times are yet to come. As the mist goes down and thw world unravels itself, I must prepare for the long journey ahead.