This is one from memory, brought back by another haiku of a friend.

Remembering Bombay 30 years ago, three weeks in Monsoon showers,
whoff, wondering how we survived that one !

monsoon shower >
the smell of Bombay
in our hair

The moist air, the endless smell of incense to kill the penetrant
smell of mold.
The smell of curry bubbeling in the street stalls.

monsoon shower >
holding on to
black umbrellas

The babus in their white doti, pulling up the legs, balancing with
one hand the huge black umbrellas - all in vain, the rain pours from
all directions !

Bombay in the Rain !
a place to dance ?
such was youth !

Gabi san