Why Every Mumbai Commute Feels Longer Right Before the Monsoon

I have strong conflicting feelings about this time of year. One half of me is begging the monsoon to hurry up and start, because this Mumbai summer has been the sort that makes you reconsider your relationship with the city. The other half has sat through enough monsoons to know that I’m not rich or privileged enough to romanticise the Monsoon anymore. Wet socks by nine. A shirt that will be damp and musty for months. The very particular hell of being soaked from the outside and the inside at once, and the quiet surrender that happens as a result.