Throughout the year, I wait and think when the monsoon will reach my door and I will rejoice and reinvent my childhood again. Monsoon has always been my favourite season of all. The clouds clash and clanger, then the devious drops after the summer will finally smite the earth surface and we will call, finally the monsoon has arrived. Why eagerly wait for the monsoon, which gives so much trouble- getting wet, mud everywhere, insects and endless things. Monsoon conversely is a pity for many of us. But, it’s a love for me. I was born in the month of July, when the clouds were heavily pouring rain. May be that’s the only thread if a connection is to be made, rest of all are memories. Being Bengali, I am one of those absurd one, who look to purge out from the daily duties and often like to get lost in the field of allegory. A guitar, a window, rabindra-sangeet, a cigar and khichudi in the lunch will do. I can do anything to find this opulent day on my monsoon calendar. Have you ever t...
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