Lying curled up in the mornings, snoozing the alarm one more time.
The lone crow lamenting atop the slippery coconut leaf while the morning express to Hyderabad sounds its melancholy horn.
Listening to Stairway to heaven while walking with your buddy late at night in a thunderstorm.
Rushing to the door, looking up at the sky and savouring the drops of the fourth monsoon shower that day.
Sitting legs drawn up, looking at the rain and texting your best friend.
The innumerable innuendoes that make their way into conversations just because the weather feels good.
Standing at the door of a train and savouring a hot cuppa watching the world go by in a blur of green.
Walking in the drizzle to enjoy a spicy molaku bajji from the tiffin centre.
Clamouring that the teacher leave because it was too dark in the class.
Wishing it was colder and that I was at Hogwarts.
A pillow and a Wodehouse.
And above all, rain is - the gentle pizzicato, the haunting notes of the wailing violin, the warmth of the heavily bowed cello, the playful prance on the piano, the flirtatious nuances of the flute, the musings evoked by a clarinet concerto.
Rain is Desh on the sarod, and Yamuna Kalyani over the temple speakers with earthen lamps illuminating a beautiful face.
Rain is music, happiness and love.