2 drops does not a shower make

See, I am a Mumbaikar. I have lived through the mad monsoons of that side of the Vindhyas.

I have waded through potholes full of roads*.
I have cursed the central railway. I have cursed the western railway. I have cursed the harbour line.
I have hitch-hiked, shared rickshaws, hopped off trains, prayed for a cup of warm tea, sang songs, held hands, heeded advice, lent my raincoat, shared umbrellas, pulled my hair in frustration, shivered in cold … in the rains of Mumbai.

So kindly do not tell me that the 1.64 mm of afterthought from the sky that you get here is RAIN.

Also do not stand over my cubicle and stare at the television set located strategically above my head. I do not want to hear moronic anchor repeating incessantly about the tragic condition of Mumbai after another lashing from the rain God.

It is not as bad as 26th of July 2005 (I hope and pray)
So stop adding to my already frayed nerves and … and I don’t know. Just keep off I guess.

And you guys out there in Mumbai, keep yourself out of trouble or I will come and personally whip your sorry bottoms.

Yes, I am irritated as hell.

*Intentional goof-up. Learn to understand these things.