The Polka Dot Story

Mumbai, a city where monsoon arrives in full swing and it was drenched at this time of the month, it was pattering heavily on the pavement and rooftops. The air was thick with the scent of wet ground, pollution and the puddles formed into holes and that one would have to jump through it, probably like Mario skipping off the random turtles on the way. Amira, an Omani girl visiting Mumbai for the first time, stepped out of the Uber, her brand new white umbrella that had black polka dots shielded her from the downpour. She managed to dodge the shiny pink earthworms slipping across the pathway. 

The busy streets of Bandra were both overwhelming and enchanting, with their mix of old-world charm and modern vibrancy. The hawkers on the road carrying funky oxidised jewellery came running towards her, asking her to purchase a thing or two but she managed to escape it and rushed into a cafe. “I’m finally here”, she whispered. She had heard about the famous Daffodil Bakery and Co. and decided to devour their famous deserts. She shook off the excess water from her umbrella and ensured it was sufficiently dry. Amira glanced around and noticed a metal bucket placed in the corner of the cafe, specifically for umbrellas. She thought to herself “the bucket definitely ruins the aesthetics of the cafe, but never-mind, it is what it is. Definitely keeping my umbrella safe for sure.” Reluctantly, she walked over and placed her umbrella in it along with the other ones, making sure it was secure and wouldn't fall out.

Her eyes scanned around the cafe, searching for a table close to the bucket. She was conscious about her umbrella; as it was a brand new purchase, she couldn't bear the thought of it getting stolen or misplaced. Fortunately, a small table near the corner was unoccupied. She quickly claimed it, settling into the chair with a sigh of relief.

Amira pulled out her phone, capturing a photo of the inviting scene before her. She made a reel or two and started adding music to the little video and posted it with a few hashtags. #Bandra #Daffodil #Monsoon #Mumbai Rains #Coffee #Bakery and many more. She ordered a hot cup of latte and a slice of dark chocolate orange cheesecake. As she sipped her on to her latte, she couldn’t help but notice the rain continued its stormy dance outside. Amira’s mind drifted to her home in Oman, where such heavy rains were rare, and the landscapes were vastly different. Mumbai, with its monsoons and frenzied life, was a world apart. Occasionally, her eyes would flicker to the bucket in the corner, reassuring herself that her umbrella was safe. 

As soon as she finished her coffee, Amira stood up, ready to brave the monsoon once more. She retrieved her precious possession from the bucket, shaking off any remaining droplets before stepping back into the rain. She stepped out of Daffodil Bakery and Co., the heavy downpour had not let up, but the warmth and charm of the cafe had left her feeling content. As she opened her umbrella, a small figure darted towards her. A young boy, drenched from head to toe, looked up at her with wide, hopeful eyes. He was a beggar, his tattered clothes clinging to his thin frame. “Money, please?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the rain. Amira’s heart ached for the boy. She handed him some money, but she knew she couldn’t just walk away. Without a second thought, she held her umbrella over the boy, shielding him from the rain. “Come with me,” she said gently, her voice filled with compassion.

Carefully, she guided the boy towards a shed in the next building. Before they even reached the shelter, Amira was surprised to see the boy’s face light up with joy. He stepped out from under the umbrella and began to dance in the rain. Amira watched in awe as the boy twirled and splashed in the puddles, his happiness was contagious. Slowly, she lifted her umbrella, allowing the raindrops to touch her face. Each drop felt like a gentle kiss, cooling her skin and bringing a smile to her lips. She closed her eyes, feeling the rain on her nose, her dimpled cheeks and her Abaya got darker and darker as each raindrop was absorbed in it. It was as if the city was welcoming her with open arms. Amira looked up at the sky, her heart was swelling with immense contentment. The rain poured down, but instead of seeking shelter, she embraced it, letting the drops cleanse her worries and fill her with happiness. 

The boy’s laughter and dance had taught her to find joy in the simplest of moments. As she stood there, drenched but exhilarated, she realized that Mumbai’s monsoon had given her a gift she would cherish forever. It wasn’t just the city or the rain, but the freedom to let go and truly live in the moment. Amira’s white umbrella with black polka dots reminded her of the contrast between her and the beggar boy. Each dot represents people like them, facing different struggles under the same sky. As the boy danced happily in the rain, Amira realized they were both part of the same city, sharing its joys and challenges. She lifted her umbrella and let the rain fall on her, feeling connected to him. In that moment, she saw how they both belonged to the beautiful, rainy world around them.