Keep Calm. Drive On. Dream On.

Rain. Rage. Resilience.

And one SUV that thinks it’s Hulk Hogan on Mars protein powder.

A monsoon rant that turned wax eloquent.

It’s been raining incessantly in my part of the world. I’m going to get a little geographically vague here, lest I get judged for all the wrong reasons. Sometimes it’s a torrent, sometimes a drizzle — the kind that hasn’t quite made up its mind. Still figuring out its course.

I guess it's like most of us — unsure of where we’re going, just plodding along, one wet, muddy foot at a time.

Over breakfast this morning, in a sweet-sour moment of reflection, I realised…the rain isn’t quite a jam or a marmalade. It’s more like a preserve — lingering, nuanced, still figuring itself out.

Enough of the jammy reflections!

Let’s talk about driving on these wet, treacherous roads — the kind that make you rant and rave like a full-blown Looney Tune.

The roads are dug up — for the nth time — and beginning to resemble swampy marshes. It’s been this way for years. Apparently "they" don't have the funds. Running a deficit, I am told.

Ah, I knew it all along — though you wouldn’t guess it from how cheerful they seem. Such happy folks.

Potholes? They’re everywhere. Honestly, I think my city could soon be renamed — the City of a Thousand Lakes, like Finland — except ours only fill up when it rains.

I drive on, warm and safely ensconced in my SUV — big mammoth tyres built to conquer snow, swamps, rivers, lakes. What’s a little crater-pond in comparison?

My SUV motors on with care, nary a complaint. Just saying — it’s built like Hulk Hogan on protein powder from Mars.

I like to believe — though some might cry “delusional” — that I drive like a gazelle. Sure-footed. Fleet. Ticking boxes. Staying in my lane.

But rains have a way of undoing even the most graceful. The splish-sploshed puddles, rainbow-hued and full of life, beg you to abandon restraint. Who can resist, right?

The smell of rain in the air. The almost-non-existent roads. The chaos of honks, headlights, and hesitation. The infuriating snaky lines of cars, trucks, scooters inching forward, back, forward again.

Better judgement takes a backseat. Traffic signals be damned. Red is no longer a pause — it’s just a sign for your brain to stop functioning.

Pedal to the metal. Mad Max style. Furious and fast, drivers blaze ahead.

Headlights at full intensity, blinding like an unholy rave.

My swear words flow freely, emceeing like a rap star burnished by bedlam. Nice-girl mode? Deactivated. I’m the game avatar now — dodging bullets, weaving between rage and reason.

This is reality. And writing about it helps me vent — calms the limbic system.

It’s absurd to drive like this every day.

And I feel deeply for my fellow commuters.

Navigating wet, slippery roads, putting themselves in harm’s way.

Don’t get me started on pedestrians — I’ll howl like the Direwolf.

We’re in this for the long haul. I get it. The economy. The divides. The taxes. The blistering policies. We are in the middle of a couple of wars right now!

It’s not that I’m oblivious — just trying to survive the chaos in my allegedly cushy cocoon of privilege.

Sure, it could be another day in paradise — jousting along in my SUV, music playing to soothe my frayed nerves.

But the empath in me still hopes. For better roads. More asphalt. A smoother way forward, for all of us.

Sometimes, patience wears thin.

Till then, I’ll be content with Dream On playing on my stereo — a little anthem to keep the madness in check, and remind me that not all battles are worth fighting.

I write about what makes me smile… and what makes me toil.

It’s a peek into my world — the chaos, the small wins, the big emotions… and the family that fuels it all.

I am just rolling, flowing, roiling… through everyday life.

If this made you smile or chuckle, come back on Tuesdays and Thursdays for more stories to sip with your chai latte… or coffee. Molecularly yours,

Sanjana

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