There are many reasons to love the monsoon. It changes the colour of grass, the vigour of trees and the songs of birds. It gives the sun privacy, the breeze a scent and the sky a mood. To me – it gives yet another reason to brood. While the streets are gleaming and the flowers are blooming, I am obsessing over unheeded streaks and stains – the ephemeral patterns left behind by intermittent rains. Is there a story etched here that is waiting to be read or is this a work of art open for us to interpret?
