There is no better start to a day than to wake up in the morning with the sound of raindrops falling on your window pane. Yes, the monsoon has arrived, the grey sky, the muddy patches in the street, the long traffic jam and Rabindra sangeet over a cup of tea and fritters. You can literally smell monsoon. No matter how people complaint, monsoon has always been special to me. The monsoon, the season of rain and unpredictability seems to have much resemblance to my own personal traits. It takes me back to my carefree childhood when we danced to the rhythm of rain on “rainy day” holidays, when paper boats were no less than PSP for us, when maa would make amazing fritters and give us small cups of tea when eating khichdi with hilsa fry tasted better than biriyani. My memories of acquaintance with Rabindranath also goes back to this season thanks to my parents, who made these memories musical. In a city like Kolkata when it rains long enough it really becomes difficult to commence