Mumbai ended my childhood love of the monsoon, then one weekend reignited it
A solo staycation at Conrad Pune
If you know me even a little bit, you’ll know how fond I am of Meerut, my home town. Even though I live in Mumbai now, the city of dreams as they call it, my heart refuses to leave the place I grew up in. Every time I go home to visit my family, I come back a new person. Even the rains in Meerut feel different. When it poured outside, the house would fill with the tempting aroma of pakoras and fryums. My dad and I would sit by the misty window, sharing a plate of snacks and having kadak chai. The rhythmic sound of raindrops hitting the ground was the perfect background score to our conversations. That was all the positive reinforcement I needed to love monsoon season back home.
But my happy memories turned murky when I moved to Mumbai in June 2022. Like every Bollywood junkie, I expected the Mumbai rains to be exactly as Ranbir Kapoor promised in Wake Up Sid—“Bombay monsoons are to die for.” I’d imagined myself standing in front of the vast ocean, with the breeze gently ruffling my hair, and raindrops kissing my face.
But reality came at me like the Virar fast local. Within days of moving to Mumbai, I learnt a lot about how the rainy season plays out here (can we stop romanticising the rains?). I discovered that vehicles don’t bother slowing down for me. Instead they accelerate, splashing muddy water all over me like I am a dehydrated crop in need of immediate irrigation. The traffic gets so bad and rickshaws are so hard to find, that I must always start walking knowing there’s at least a 50 percent chance my chappals won’t last the course (is that why there are always widowed slippers lying in the streets here?). And if after all that I do make it to work, the dampness and the lack of sunlight leaves my brain buffering like a YouTube video stuck on 240p.
But nothing prepared me for what was yet to come in those first weeks in Mumbai. One evening, after I returned from grocery shopping, I found that the roof of my room had collapsed in. There was water, concrete and dust everywhere. It was too much. I broke up with the monsoon that day.
Was a monsoon staycation a good idea?
Two years later, I am no longer a fresher at navigating Mumbai’s monsoon (though still annoyed by it), and I decided maybe it’s time to give it another shot. With the much touted monsoon getaway. I was burnt out and bored and desperately needed a quick escape, even if it meant travelling in the rains. If all went well, I would be spending a relaxing solo weekend at Conrad, a 5-star property located in the quiet lanes of Sangamvadi, Pune. The thought of being tucked inside, taken care of, staying dry and cosy, with no roofs falling in or Uber surge-pricing to deal with, was very exciting.
I packed my standard monsoon survival kit—umbrella, monsoon shoes, blotting sheets to fight the humidity, and one set of getting-drenched-in clothes in case I, for some reason, decided to leave the hotel. The road trip from Mumbai to Pune was surprisingly smooth. As we moved along, the lush green Sahyadri mountains made me feel relieved and grateful for being far away from the potholes of Mumbai. My body began to relax.
When I finally reached the hotel around noon, its soft-lit, luxurious interiors, and was I imagining—wafting aroma of freshly-baked cake?—made up for the wet, overcast day outside. The staff welcomed me with warmth and showed me to my suite. As soon as I entered, I sank onto the bed and it felt like lying down on a cloud. Next, I checked out the bathtub and could immediately picture myself soaking in it, just existing, outside of phone calls and deadlines and needing to be anywhere. I promised myself I was going to clear my sleep debt in this suite.
Things I did as a solo staycationer
After taking my time to freshen up, I headed for lunch to the hotel’s pan-Asian restaurant, Koji Kitchen. There Chef Pavan had set up a special station for me in their kitchen for a sushi-making workshop (guests can make a request for this experience). By the third attempt, I’d rolled the perfect maki roll (yes, I’m absolutely adding that to my résumé). I went on to have a delicious, full-course meal there; I especially loved the crunchy, perfectly-seasoned lotus stem stir-fry and indulgent pineapple ice-cream. This is how I like to enjoy rainy weather. With food.
What else do people do when it’s pouring outside? Cosy up with a book. I did exactly that at the in-house cafe, Pune Sugar Box, which comes with its own little library—and had a slice of blueberry cheesecake for company. I felt my lids grow heavy in no time and wanted to doze off right there, wishing a fictional hero would come put a throw on me. But I decided to move the day-dreaming poolside.
There, I had another love story waiting to unfold. A rekindling of sorts, between me and the rains. It was drizzling, I was by myself at the poolside cafe, Kabana, which serves traditional and continental snacks as well as cocktails if the mood takes you. In front of me was my order of chai, pakoras, podi idli, and maggi from their monsoon special menu. And just like that, I was back home, in Meerut. A sense of bliss and nostalgia enveloped me. Maybe I don’t hate the monsoon as much as I thought. I just need to create more ways to enjoy it.
It rained deliciousness during my weekend getaway
The highlight of my stay was the dinner, where I got to experience the Modern Peshwa Menu at their rooftop restaurant Al Di La, curated by food historian Anoothi Vishal alongside Conrad’s executive chef Pradeep Rao. As someone whose idea of Maharashtrian food began and ended with vada pav and sev puri, this was a full-blown culinary plot twist. The menu reflects the journey of how Pune’s food culture has evolved over the years, with influences from the city’s Anglo-Indian and Parsi communities.
We kicked things off with Thecha Bites which involved a savoury cone, chevre cream and charred pineapple thecha. They looked like dainty dessert scoops, but one bite in and the chilli hit. Creamy, fiery, flavourful.
Next up was Camp Connection, a Parsi-inspired dish with vegetable dhansak tortellini, burnt pine-nut maska, and parmesan foam. Imagine the comforting texture of momos, the warm hug of pasta, and the richness of something way fancier than your weekday dinner. Mild, creamy, and melt-in-your-mouth good.
I cleansed my palate with an aamras-elaichi sorbet and got set for the real deal—the Peshwa thali which had bharli vangi, kothimbir wadi, Indrayani rice, and bhakri. The rice, which is native to Maharashtra, tasted like desi Jasmine rice—soft, sticky, and easily digested.
I ended this elaborate meal with the best thing ever—a modak. Usually, I have to wait for Ganesh Chaturthi each year, to tuck into its coconut-jaggery goodness when my Maharashtrian friends make the ukadiche modak. Getting to have it off-season at Conrad was yet another perfect little treat.
Are the monsoon and I friends again?
Later that night, as it rained outside, I curled up under a cosy blanket in my room, watching my all-time favourite comedy Welcome, and just… enjoying the downtime. All my stress had melted away. I realised that my nervous system, which had been stuck in fight mode for the past month because of work and family commitments, had finally switched to free mode. In that moment, I fell in love with the idea of a monsoon staycation. No pressure to explore. No “must-see-in-24-hours” lists to complete. You just… exist. Eat. Breathe. Repeat.
On the way back, I felt lighter. A little less cynical. A lot more grateful. This staycation brought back a kind of joy I hadn’t felt since moving to a fast-paced city—the kind that slows you down and makes you use your senses more mindfully. As I watched swathes of blurry green rush by the car window, I smiled. The monsoon and I, we were friends again.
