As usual, one of these mornings at 5.30 am, I palmed the curtains away to look outside and second thoughts crept into my mind. 'Wait' is what I heard from within. It's actually 6.15 am these days when it's lit up enough for me to look for my trainers, dress the part and hit the street. I am averse to going out when it's dark what with the canine menace lurking at every corner. That 5.30 am a bit back is 6.15 am now indicates that days have begun to shorten and nights are elongating. The season is in a flux.

One fine early morning, as usual, I looked up at the sky and saw that it is laden with clouds; I could feel that the skies were heavy with moisture and tinged with grey. A distant rumble could be heard every now and then; forming an appropriate background noise to the orchestra of gathering clouds. But its decibels didn't threaten me enough to have a rethink. That it would rain was most certain. But the question was not, if but when? And I moved to wager on that.

After initial hesitation, I decided in favour of taking a chance and going for a morning walk, thinking that while it would most certainly rain, it would hold off long enough to let me do my daily chore and safely return.

Ordinarily, I follow two routes for my morning walk: When I am not in the mood for an expansive walk, I do it within the colony. Another time, when I feel that I need to give the body a bit of work out, I go for my morning grinds outside the colony. This outside the colony walk involves a mile and a half walk to a park upon reaching where I take its 10-15 rounds before taking a long labored walk back home.

I took the latter option on that fateful morning. In about 15 minutes I was in the park and had begun taking its rounds. 5 rounds into my daily grind, I saw wet spots forming on the ground; but they were few and far between. It was a gentle drizzle. Therefore, I walked on undeterred, hoping that the wind that had suddenly kicked in would drive it away. The drizzle, however, gained momentum. Soon it morphed into a proper monsoon rain and then within no time, it changed into a heavy downpour.

The walkers' path in the park is a cemented track and barring a tiny portion, the whole track is shaded by a well spread out foliage of the trees that line this track. Before the rain became a downpour, I could still walk as except for a limited portion, I was saved from the impact of direct rain by the protection offered by the trees. But when rain fury increased, there was no place I could head to for safety. Nonetheless, I stopped and looked for a cover. I found a massive tree with an extensive network of branches and foliage. I rushed to stand beneath it. But it was no consolation either. For even the massive tree foliage had succumbed to the mighty downpour.

I stood there waiting for the rain Gods to let up. But rains seemed to only increase. And then, the winds joined the party. On the back of winds, rains had more fury and hit me slantingly. There was now no place to hide. It had become stormy.

Initially, I thought of staying in the park for home was a mile and half away, but then I thought better of it. In fact, I did not even have to make up my mind when I looked up at the sky. It looked ominous. The alternative choice was not even a choice. Thus, I began my walk back home. As I stepped out of the park, I saw the side lane that I had to take to reach the main road was inundated with water. Water gushed from the top of the main road on to this side lane. You could not pick your way through it no matter what. I chose to walk bang in the middle of road out of concern for my safety. I could hardly see my sneakers when I walked.

When I climbed up the main road, I saw the mayhem. From where I stood to the point I had to reach, a crossroad, before taking a turn on to another road for the walk back home, there was a gradient of nearly 35 degrees. No prizes for guessing what a mess it must have been walking up to the crossroad with water gushing down at you full throttle. During my walk up to the crossroad, I saw no person on the road and very few vehicles plied on the streets. At the crossroad, I decided to take cover under the extended roofing of a shuttered shop.

As I stood there, I saw a couple of milk vendors on scooters, in rain coats, with aluminum milk vessels strapped on to the either side of the scooters. Occasionally, a car zipped through or a tipper rushed past me. But the familiar sight of streets inundated with water and rain intensity only increasing by the minute never left me. After waiting for 15 minutes or so for rain to cease and finding that end to my ordeal was nowhere in sight, I began the trudge back home.

There is another sight of that morning that's stuck with me since. And it's of a woman in her late thirties walking back, drenched to the skin, after walking her kid to the school bus. I watched her walk back home, head downcast, with her arms clasped in front and a duppatta covering her head. She walked with an unhurried pace. I could not quite figure out why she did not hurry back home when downpour had forced her to preserve her modesty. Perhaps while she wore the robes of modesty, her self- esteem did not forget to throw down the gauntlet to the rain Gods.

I was now prepared to be drenched as the rain Gods pleased. As I walked my feet squelched inside my soaked shoes. My t-shirt and the lower were wet like they had been dipped in a bucket full of water and then taken out. I carefully hid my mobile in the front pocket of the lower just so it was not damaged. 20 minutes later, I arrived home bedraggled, my hair plastered to my forehead, and looking like a wet mouse. I thought I had made myself a fool by betting against the monsoon rain. Next time, I thought I would be bit more careful, and not bet against nature.