The monsoon arrived early.
Not the true monsoon, not the months long deluge that would transform the city into a waterlogged dream. This was a precursor, a violent prelude that swept in from the Arabian Sea without warning, its clouds black as bruises, its winds howling through the concrete canyons of Mumbai like wounded animals. The city shut down. Traffic halted. Markets shuttered their stalls. The beaches emptied, and the promenades turned to wind lashed ghost towns, and the Arabian Sea churned itself into a fury of whitecaps and spray.
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