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 where I live. I consider myself a pluviophile — I love the rains, what with the smell of wet earth and raindrops trickling down my windows, embellishing them with little spheroids of crystal.

It’s not cool to complain, I am painfully aware. Be a part of the solution, they say, not the prophet of doom and gloom. The irony, of course, is beginning to look deliciously damp.

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 my jammy reflections! If I don’t hurry and make the school run on time, I’ll be in a jam, rest assured.

And as the skies weep, so do our roads — or what’s left of them.

The Daily Grind

Driving on these wet, treacherous roads feels like an extreme sport — the kind that makes you rant and rave like a full-blown Looney Tune.

The roads are dug up — again — and are beginning to resemble swampy marshes. Systemic apathy: the shrug, the quick click of feet, the turning away — all of it now part of our civic wallpaper.

Potholes? They’re omnipresent. Honestly, I think my city could 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 nary a care. It’s built like Hulk Hogan on protein powder from Mars.

I like to believe I drive like a gazelle — sure-footed, swift, ticking boxes, staying in my lane. But rains have a way of getting to you — they test even the most patient among us.

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-nonexistent roads. The chaos of honks, headlights, and hesitation. The infuriating snaky lines of cars, trucks, scooters, and motorcycles inch forward, back, then forward again — a cornucopia of chaos and noise.

That’s when better judgement takes a backseat. Traffic signals be damned. Red is no longer a pause — it’s just a cue for your brain to switch off and burn rubber faster.

Pedal to the metal. Mad Max style. Furious and fast, many of us forge ahead.

Headlights at full intensity, blinding like an unholy rave.

The temptation weakens, and I surrender to the absurdity.My swear words flow freely — emceeing like a rap star, burnished by bedlam.Nice-girl mode? Nah.I’m the game avatar now — dodging bullets, shushing the voice of reason.

Between Rage and Rainbows

This is reality. And writing about it is my coping mechanism.

It’s absurd to drive like this every day. And I feel deeply for my fellow commuters — navigating wet, slippery roads, putting ourselves in harm’s way.

Don’t get me started on pedestrians — I’ll howl like a werewolf about the missing footpaths and the promises of what could have been.

We are in this for the long haul. I get it — the economy, the pressing issues, the corruption, the blistering policies, the overheated geopolitics.

It’s not that I’m oblivious — I’m 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: the cars, the buses, the scooters, the motorcycles, and the people — the fauna — just getting by on the street.

And sometimes, patience wears thin. I’m only human after all — and yeh dil to definitely maange more.

Till that happens, I’ll be content with a ditty playing on my stereo — little anthems to keep the madness in check and remind me that not all battles are worth fighting. The voice of sanity has spoken, and I’ve made my peace.

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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