Singing in the Rain!

Published in the Sunday Vijay Karnataka on 17 Aug 2025

When summer blazes on and the rains finally arrive, we welcome them with open arms. But when they’re ready to leave, do we give them a proper farewell?

As I write this, I have no idea if it will still be raining when you read it. But over the past two weeks, the rain has been relentless. If you ask me which place is the wettest right now, it’s not Cherrapunji—it’s our very own Mumbai.

I’m reminded of Mawsynram village in Meghalaya—officially the wettest place on Earth. When it rains there, it pours for weeks. Locals even pad rooftops with grass to soften the deafening sound. These days, Mumbai feels just like that. It’s raining non-stop, and monsoon has become the highlight of every conversation: “It’s pouring,” “Haven’t seen the sun in days,” “Let’s go get drenched at Nariman Point!”

Even onions are pricey, thanks to the sudden national craving for pakoras. Yet, this year’s rain feels different—more structured, almost polite. Trains are running, supplies are on time, and life hasn’t come to a halt. Maybe the rain is better behaved. Or maybe we’ve simply become more prepared and resilient.

It feels like the monsoon has taken advice from a spiritual guru—“Rain, but be considerate. Don’t disrupt too much. Let people enjoy their morning paper.”

And thanks to that, Mumbai hasn’t stopped. Offices remain open, schools haven’t declared half-days, and we haven’t received any “leave early due to rain” messages from HR. Honestly, the Rain Gods deserve a thank you. If it continues much longer, though, we might just start humming, “Rain, rain, go away…”

That’s just how we are. First, we plead: “Come, dear rain,” and once the lakes are full and the fields are sown, we’re ready to see it off.

Speaking of fields, I’m reminded of my childhood in the village. My parents were both teachers and farmers, so monsoon meant rice farming—sowing, transplanting, harvesting. Before raincoats reached us, there was the irla—a head-to-toe protective wrap used in the fields.

As kids, we loved joining in. Planting saplings in wet soil was fun and freeing. Our toes stayed soaked so long the skin would wrinkle—we called it kuya, and coconut oil was the go-to fix. Later came gumboots and raincoats, making it easier to enjoy both farm work and rain play.

The workers were served food from our home, packed in bamboo baskets called shidori. We got to share it too. The joy of eating hot, simple meals in a rainy, muddy field? Unmatched.

I recently wondered—could I still do that now? And then came the city-trained questions: “What if there are snakes?” “What if I fall?” “What if something pricks me?” In childhood, such fears didn’t exist. That’s what urban life does—it teaches caution, but robs spontaneity. Village monsoons had a magic all their own.

For the past three Sundays, we’ve had perfect, steady rain. Everyone’s been indoors. One such day, my husband Sudhir played his favorite rain songs. After finishing my emails, I joined him.

First up: “Rimjhim Gire Saawan” from Manzil, featuring Amitabh Bachchan and Moushumi Chatterjee. Shot around Gateway of India and Marine Drive, the visuals are simple but timeless.

Then came “Ek Ladki Bheegi Bhaagi Si” from Chalti Ka Naam Gaadi. Kishore Kumar and Madhubala’s playfulness still charms. And of course, “Pyaar Hua Ikraar Hua” from Shree 420. Raj Kapoor and Nargis under one umbrella—absolutely iconic.

We followed that with songs by the Mangeshkars and other greats. That musical monsoon evening was the perfect mix of nostalgia and warmth—deeply satisfying.

If it’s raining even now as you read this, play one more rain song—on your TV or phone. The title track from the 1952 Hollywood classic Singing in the Rain.

Anyone who’s now a senior citizen has likely seen it. Directed and performed by Gene Kelly, it remains a gem of cinema. The song?
“Singing in the rain, I’m happy again…”
It lifts your mood effortlessly. It doesn’t just sound good—it feels good to watch. It’s playful, uplifting, and quietly profound.

“Oh no, it’s raining!” vs “Oh wow, it’s raining!”—those two responses say a lot about our outlook. The rain will fall. We can’t control it. The only thing we can control is how we receive it.

As the saying goes: “You can love it or hate it, but you can’t ignore it.”

So if rain is inevitable, let’s embrace it. Not with a sulking face, but with a smile. Why not say, “Oh wow, rain!” and dance in it?

As poet Mangesh Padgaonkar once asked,
“Tell me how to live—grumbling or singing?”

So let’s go out. Let’s sing in the rain. Let’s dance in the rain. Let’s be happy again.

Because this short season carries a message from nature:
Take a break. Relax. Rejuvenate.
It reminds us how precious sunshine really is. It gives us a glimpse into what life must be like in places where rain and clouds are year-round companions.

If just two weeks without sunlight can leave us restless, imagine the lives of those near the North Pole. The rain says: “Look how lucky you are. Be grateful for what you have.”

When our son Raj was little, he was a die-hard fan of Disney’s Winnie the Pooh. One line from Pooh still sticks with me:
“When life throws you a rainy day, play in the puddles!”

So yes—let’s sing in the rain, dance in the rain, and most of all, be happy again.