Sometimes clichés are beautiful, despite themselves.
The choppy Arabian sea in the stiff Monsoon breeze, for instance. The pregnant clouds hang low over the horizon, threatening to burst any moment. The stiff cool wind, laden with salt and moisture excites the sea - it seems to want to reach out to the clouds, touch it and make them unburden their precious fruit.
The Monsoon is more than just rain. It is a temptress that conceals a spell in its bosom, an annual cosmic ritual that tantalises the fantasies of an entire population.
The Monsoons are magic. A cliché, that never ceases to be beautiful.