Sir PM glanced at his watch for the umpteenth time, and kept pacing by the entry porch of the cathedral. Their evening meetings have had to move indoors given that the monsoon’s presence seemed like the real deal these past few days. And then, just before the heavens could open, Lady Flora showed up, adequately prepared for the rains in the city; a pair of bright yellow waterproof Wellington boots rounding off her look.

“Ah, there you are, in the nick of time,” Sir PM extended his arms out, as if to greet her, and also to show relief, as the heavens opened, and it began to pour. “I just made it, Pheroze. I was hoping I wouldn’t get caught in these sudden bursts. Nowhere to seek refuge, too…unless, of course, if I dart into the entrance of Readymoney Mansion. There is absolutely no shelter, I’ve come to realise,” shared Lady Flora, as she left her umbrella out to dry. The duo exchanged pleasantries and caught up with news from both sides. Both had taken a break from their Sunday midnight walk routine for a few weeks, due to familial commitments. 

“The lack of rain-proof shelter that I was referring to a few minutes ago…that reality can be spotted across the city. Only the other day, cousin Persis was mentioning the issue of impractically designed bus stops and her annual nightmare. That hardworking, conscientious girl never misses a day at work, and poor thing has to always carry a change of clothes to the office every monsoon because she gets fully drenched by the time the bus arrives, and she attempts to board it. It’s the same story for so many bus commuters whom I can spot from atop my pedestal. They have a tough time trying to ensure their working clothes don’t get messed up by the time they reach their respective offices,” she spoke, sounding quite pained at this yearly trauma.