In what I hope will become a tradition, for the second year in a row I went to the sea face at Worli just as the monsoon was coming up over Mumbai. It’s a lovely time to be there, to say the least. What follows is a random collection of thoughts that went through my head at the time. I am not vain enough to call it poetry.
Worli sea-face, Mumbai. Monsoon is round the corner.
I am sea spray drunk.
I can sit all day watching the waves.
Guessing when a wave will break.
Whether it will be a big wave or a small one.
Watching the incoming waves leap over the retreating ones.
Awed how no amount of traffic on the road can drown the deafening roar of th water
The wind sways my body. Come play with me, he says.
I will sway with you, but no more, I reply, afraid.
But when the sea sprays her water on me – and she does so only occasionally.
I lean forward, eager for more
She teasingly withdraws.
But leaves a mark on my lips, leaving me sea spray drunk.