I miss the monsoons of Bombay like a writer misses the rains. Not that I am a writer, but you know the wonderful feeling when you wake up with the pitter patter of the raindrops, the hung over sky, foot high water and the smell of earth. It’s just wonderful because you know you don’t have to put on your soggy shirt and injure your leather shoes on the way to work in a bus because the trains are out and the cab ride will make you sick. It’s nice when you have to just pull the curtains aside and watch nature’s glory and be inspired to do your job. What’s more…you get all the beauty without the hassles. Isn’t that what monsoon is all about? Well, it is here. In magical LA, rains come only during one month. In the day it drizzles so women in chic faux fur can look up to the sky and catch a raindrop between their lashes. It pours in the nights when no one is out (except the half million homeless people). It’s these convenient monsoons that we need in Bombay. But I guess we are far from modifying weather lest it come back to bite us where we least expect it.