The three things that get you most when it’s raining in Hyderabad are:
1) the sights: everything is wet, there are lots of puddles underneath and some streets are indistinguishable from whitewater rapids.
2) The sounds: apart from the rain, which can be deafening at times, there are plenty more honking horns, trilling bicycle bells, kids playing in the rain, parents yelling at their kids to NOT play in the rain, and the occasional sound of a large,mostly metal object on wheels that looks almost entirely unlike a car crashing into another.
3) The smells: you want a fucking trip? here’s the assortment: you get: the diesel fumes from various heavy vehicles including buses, small trucks, autorickshaws mixed in with the stench of lord-knows-how-many-days of public urination and rotting garbage mixed in with the scents of many many delicious deep-fried items being cooked in the corner and being eaten by kids whose parents are yet again yelling at them not to, the smells from the flower seller on the street corner, the wafting aromas of different dinners being prepared, coffees, soups, and other specialities involving cardamom, saffron, cinnamon, cloves, and many other spices.
The monsoons are great, but you have to get used to the REALLY highs consorting with the lowliest of lows.