Grey
How the monsoon skies change the landscape of this city. The old and neglected architecture is left shamefaced against a bright blue summer sky. The cracks and fungus are starkly visible against the dirty walls and roofs. But the monsoon is far more forgiving. The grey clouds this morning hung low over the cityscape. In the distance, the skyscrapers disappeared head first into fondly imagined mist. In reality, it was probably deadly smog but still, it looked pretty.
Against the threatening clouds, the old tanks and mill roofs and factory chimneys were framed in subtle watercolours. The faded yellows of the walls, the old corrugated tin roofs in indescribable shades and the dark brown black of the ever present fungus were beautiful against the steel grey of the clouds.
The old water tank at the start of JJ Flyover was especially stunning. I don’t believe I have ever noticed it before, with its winding staircase and dead fungus creeping over it in an intricate trellis. Against the grey, it stood out in pleasing contrast. So too the old mill roofs and derelict chimneys further along my route. The chimneys of Mumbai are slowly disappearing as mill land is eaten up by swanky malls and restaurant strips. These elegant tapered columns, of old weathered stone, with their patina of blackened fungus are beautiful in their construction and worthy of a second glance as we drive past.
The grey skies make all these old and abandoned relics of our past into things of beauty. The colour blurs and softens the blows of neglect and time. The trees also stand out differently against these monsoon skies. The greens are muted, the brash orange of the gulmohar and the yellow of the rusty shield bearer are gentled by the backwash of this most pleasing of colours. The ocean too reflects the sky. It is turbulent and sullen. It swells up and deposits our entire year’s worth of negligence back at our feet. The rocks at low tide are black and shiny against the mud grey of the water.
Monsoon in Mumbai. The fabled potholes are filled with grey water. The stalwart train tracks drown in a flood slicked with rainbow petrol stains. A grey sky, a grey ocean, a grey city. Like the painter who chooses these colours of real life – browns and blacks and greys, the monsoon clouds paint over the bright colours of summer and reveal a peculiar, dirty, blurred beauty.