So I am here in Delhi for almost a month now. I knew the heat would be real, and I came prepared- hydrating essentials, what not. But Delhiâs heat is very unforgiving. My first couple of weeks here was like being in a sauna, waking up to 35 degrees in the morning and by six in the evening it would reach the skin-torching 40 degrees. Stepping out felt like a corn cob being slowly roasted over a pile of tiny coals-my skin would prickle with heat, icy hot goosebumps popping up on my arms.
And then, boom, the rain arrives. Suddenly Delhiâs a whole different city. The harsh sunlightâs gone that made everything high contrast and overexposed. Now Iâm in a moody indie film- dark clouds rolling in, rain pouring down. You feel like youâre a character in a film, like youâve got a role to play. Even just staring out the window at the raindrops feels like youâre doing something worthwhile. You never just sit there gazing out the window on a sweltering day- thatâs just torture. But rain? Itâs like natureâs cozy blanket, a spine tingling hug.
Rain has an incredibly broad spectrum when it comes to encapsulating emotions- itâs the perfect backdrop for stuff like first love, heartbreaks, melancholic loneliness, or just the general âleave-me-aloneâ vibes. Thereâs something about rain that makes everything feel like a movie-you know, that glossy veneer, a grainy 35 mm film filter-that adds a layer of depth to everyday moments.
Isnât everything more alive when itâs raining?
Cinemaâs got a million rainy moments, but here are a few that are stuck in my head. Interestingly, these scenes are basically elevated to iconic status by their soundtracks. So, Iâm sharing some tunes that set the right mood for some monsoon introspection- whether youâre sipping chai on your couch or squished in the metro on your way home from work. Think of it as a tiny rainy-day playlist.
âď¸ Geela Geela Pani, Lata Mangeshkar
Urmila Matondkar enjoying the rain from her tiny balcony in Satya (Ram Gopal Varma, 1998) singing (rather lip-syncing) âgeela geela paaniâ which translates to âwet wet water.â
âď¸ Rimjhim Gire Sawan, Lata Mangeshkar
Moushumi Chatterjee getting drenched in the rain with Amitabh Bachchan in Basu Chatterjeeâs 1979 film Manzil. The scene plays out like a perfect moment- the two of them had just shared a cozy afternoon in Kala Ghoda, slurping on spicy noodles, when the rain sweeps in. Instead of grabbing a cab, they decide to get drenched. What I adore about this scene is the glimpse it offers into Bombayâs monsoon in the late 70s. Turns out the cityâs effortless cool and laid back vibe is timeless and just the same.
âď¸ Meha Jhar Jhar, Kishori Amonkar
Sandhya, Dimple Kapadiaâs character in Govind Nihalaniâs Drishti (1990), is bored and uninspired, stuck in a loveless marriage. At their wedding anniversary party she locks eyes with the charming and charismatic Rahul (Irfan Khan). Nihalani uses the monsoonâs primal energy to signal Sandhyaâs awakening- Rahul enters her life amidst thunderclaps.
This moment progresses into a brief but intense affair between Sandhya and Rahul, their fling played out with the soulful Meha Jhar Jhar amping up the emotional mood, the rains serving as the perfect backdrop. I donât know much about classical music, but this songâs connection to the monsoon is apparent as âmeghâ means cloud. According to this article on Scroll.in the song, âis composed in the style of raag Malhar, punctuated by exquisite alaaps celebrating the arrival of monsoon.â However, Amonkar was not aware that her piece was going to feature in a lovemaking scene, which made her so infuriated that since then she hasnât worked on any compositions for films.
âď¸ Tum Jo Mil Gaye Ho , Mohammed Rafi and Lata Mangeshkar
This song keeps popping up on the radio-always randomly- and lead me to Hanste Zakhm (Chetan Anand, 1973). This movie has been on my watchlist for like forever, but somehow I never got around to it.
Priya Rajvansh and Navin Nischol cruising through Bombay on a rainy night in a cozy taxi, their own little private nook on wheels. Itâs like one of those rainy nights when youâre driving home late, rainâs been pouring down all day. The streetlights cast a golden halo over the wet streets, petrol spills create rainbow holograms that seem like portals to another world. Sitting in an auto, you get bathed in a subduing red glow from the brake lights of the cars ahead- itâs like being in a slow-burn indie film. The city is glowing silently with this passionate energy in the dark with the rain hitting the glare of headlights, and itâs like stars are dripping from the sky.
The âtum joâ part has an aching quality to it, there is this longing, this desperate drawl that feels totally lovesick. And the rain just amplifies it all, like the whole world is echoing with these emotions, which is just perfect.
âď¸ O Ghata Sanwari, Lata Mangeshkar
This song is a like a soothing playful lullaby. Hema Malini plays Anjana, a stage star and singer, in Subodh Mukerjiâs Abhinetri (1970). As it pours outside itâs only natural that she breaks into a song. The scene is like a swirling fantasy: she prances around her perfect dollhouse. She workouts in a cute outfit complete with a bow, and then unwinds with a warm bubble bath, all misty and dreamy. Seemâs as if she has escaped into her own perfect little world. Thereâs something so indulgent and ridiculously cozy about a hot shower when itâs pouring outside- the misty windows, the warmth. I love how this song is all about embracing that solo time.
Thatâs all for now, happy monsoons!