Polka dots and solid fills

I loved gazing at the people walking to the station and all the colourful, plain, new, old umbrellas they had with them while it poured while I sat atop the table in our shop enjoying being alone and loving every bit of it.

That was years ago, before we moved out from the chawl into an apartment.

The chawls were fun to live in. Most of the weekends we would be playing hide & seek all afternoon or wait for hours to rent that little cycle that I could ride for 2 buck an hour.
During monsoon we all would get soaked to the marrow and eat bhutta.

I feel lucky to have grown up in one of them. We had a garba pandal setup by a friends grandpa, the wadi had Ganpati pandal every year. I learned to make rangoli too! And on Eid, the entire neighbourhood would come to our house to eat sewiya or for the yummy mutton mom cooked on Bakra Eid.
We played Holi, burst crackers in Diwali, though i hated the loud sound they made.

The city has become more rigid now. Its not how I want to remember it. I find myself wishing abandon this city and find a new nest. I don't like that thought. I love this city of my birth. The place that gives me the freedom to feel safe even at midnight. Or when i have to leave house at 5:30 in the morning and walk 20 minutes to the railway station. I did not feel it while I was in some other city for some time.

And I love the rains! =)