[The only city I love more than Bombay is Bombay-in-the-rains.
I shower my paeans.]
I shower my paeans.]
Oh, I smell the rain of first love!
When the first drop drops from the skies above
And hits the beautiful face of Mumbai,
It goes to my head and gives me a high!
Bringing cheer to each chawl and gully
And pilgrims to tears at Dargah Haji Ali.
And at our very own Marine Drive,
The rocks and the breeze and the seas come alive!
The scent of the mud at Shivaji Park
Mingles with the clap of thunder in the dark;
Of excitement, the city has a fresh burst now-
Oh, when I smell the rain of first love!
Janta escape a tad early from their jobs,
Just to have warm corn-on-the-cobs
On rain-soaked roads of aamchi Mumbai,
With a steaming cup of cutting chai,
And a spicy plate of kanda bhajiyas,
As a passing car flies our pants' dhajjiyas.
Locals wait for halted trains,
Or stay at home to watch the rains.
Urchins play on every street
When earth and rain for the first time meet;
No throat shall run dry, being rid of thirst now-
Oh, when I smell the rain of first love!
Birds sing a beautiful shehnai tune
To welcome this bride that is Mumbai's monsoon;
To hearken newer and better beginnings,
Concealed from sight, the koyal bird sings.
Stormwater washes off the city's dirt,
And wipes away its sorrows and hurt.
Lovers' hearts and dancers' feet
Sway to the rhythm of the raindrops' beat.
Mumbai erupts in a mighty chorus!
Our tears are hidden as God cries for us.
But when I smell the rain of first love,
A thing of the past is the very worst now.
