Rains in Vizag, a yesteryear charm?

I hear thunder!
I hear thunder!
Oh! don't you? Oh! don't you?
Pitter, patter raindrops,
Pitter, patter raindrops,
I'm wet through!
I'm wet through!

This school rhyme brings back  memories of reading  the rhyme in school,  looking at the huge droplets fall down the school  windows. Those early school days donning yellow and pink translucent raincoats. The restless hunting for a umbrella to not get the sleeves wet. Avoiding nice trips on a scooter with Dad in that heavy brown raincoat, just to avoid mud splashes. Getting up early to collect parijata blossoms that won't get crushed by the rains.

Rains awash the roads alongside the sandy beaches of Vizag. The few scattered coconut trees wave to the gales. When you see the clouds darken you can expect torrential rains.

Clothes which never dry,  and finding the nooks and corners in the home to dry that tiny bits and pieces. Dreading Fridays at schools because you need to wear an all white uniform with matching white canvas shoes, and wondering how the neighbourhood Navy uncle always wears his whites like Nirma white.

Getting drenched in the rain, and trying to avoid any adult till you sneak in the home to mask any signs of having been outdoors. Piping hot mirchi bajji and aloo puris make the staple evening snacks. Not to forget, annoying your dad till you get the samosas from Gautam's or Sukh Sugar near RK beach with the tangy tamarind sauce or probably better, convince him to get bhel puri off the beach road.

The beach road of Vizag, scantily lighted, very breezy, where the intoxicating smell of salt invades your very being. Convincing someone else to accompany you to play in the waters since you are at the beach anyway has to be marked off the Checklists.

On the grim scenario, that you fell sick, folding papers into nice tiny boats and looking at them raft across the muddy waters, taking care to not get yourself too muddy and failing miserably. Assuming you reach home early,  and not allowed to leave the doorstep, reading Ruskin  Bond to step into the imaginary rains of the hills of Dehra, or probably find a cosy squishy chair and daydream of Enid Blyton's Anna and George off with Tim to Kirrin's island. If that doesn't work, go asking Mom why there aren't tiny Islands like them off the beaches of Vizag cos it's a coast too right?

Getting excited because the morning school assembly will remain canceled and you can read the school prayer individually. Using the pretext of a runny nose to avoid a muddy football match and delve into the cosy comforts of the school library to find a nice Nancy Drew adventure or maybe a new book of the rack to read in 2 hours, or convince the librarian to lend this book too cos you are already midway through it and without any more library cards(obviously, duh)

Someone asks me out of the blue,  so do you want to go see the Vizag monsoons?
Rains in this new city  are beautiful and pleasant. A nice walk down a park or the long clean  roads  are  charming indeed. Rains in a hotter city I lived in were refreshing,  but rains of the childhood years, well they just keep reminding you of how years strolled by, things changed, childhood metamorphosed and well the city,...