Monsoons...

Monsoon was at its pompous best. Celebrating the onset it poured. The little dry patches of earth bathed in the shower. Droplets on the cement floor danced and jumped as if their butts got hurt on impact. The dimples drank to its tummy full and collected the rest for a rainy day. Little ants scampered in thousand different directions in search to close in on the opening. Green bathed and glistened in its new attire. Dust swam in the suntanned saturations of the umpteen puddles. Little paths got streamlined. Water gushed at its molecular best, meandering their respective routes to reach the paddy fields.

She tried to follow the smile. The incessant downpour clad in the whitest of the gowns mesmerized her. Winds too had fallen for the rains. Deep inside her heart even the smile ached to smile. The windy old monsoons, vigorous than their precedents or is it the same old chap never devoid of energy. Ominous clouds hovered behind the horizon. She looked through her window. The heat intensified. Mamma’s warning reverberated in her ears- “ Don’t forget the umbrella ”. Still she purposefully forgot it. She longed to cuddle under his umbrella forever.

Another heavy shower drenched her unawares. Shivering like the crow perched on an electric line, she hurried to the thatched bus shelter. The midriffs had given away, and water seeped in like a gardener’s hose watering his orchids. She squeezed her hair dry. No auto-rickshaws pitied her. Another thunderous applause made the quivering lamppost go blind. And so did the flicker of courage in her. The whole post crashed in a loud rumble with the wind that followed suit. She was deaf, blind and pale at the same instant. A white and white clad emerged from the lucid rains. He neared her faster than her thoughts. Her heart sank to think. Dusk was at its doorsteps like a venerated genius ready for exit. Night waited for the batons to be handed over. Vacuous looks encircled her. The shiver of cold and fright positioned itself in a masquerade, unidentified. The man stood silent near, the black big umbrella still unfolded. Time sizzled past. Night was decorated beautiful. Lightning for the illumination, thunder for the music, the stage felt set for a marriage of the moon and a distant star. Lost in imaginations she didn’t notice the distant light.

He held out his hand and the rickshaw stopped. She missed a beat. She gulped. “What if he leaves?” The stranger by now had made her unknowingly secure, abating the redundant metaphors like the unruffled water in the temple pool.

She couldn’t garner enough courage to request him.

‘ Market square’-The stranger commanded. She too had to go the same route. She expected him to ask her to accompany at least at the last moment.

‘100 rupees’ – the driver didn’t relent for anything less. ‘75?’ – He enquired.

“No, the rains have battered my wheels, share if u get a co- passenger” – The drivers offensive words were but snow under the warm sun for her. Without losing a second she volunteered. 7:00 pm, the engines roared…

The journey was silent except for the occasional bumps and ditches that jostled her towards his warm shoulders. The sorry’ made him smile. She saw the crease developing more frequently. She kept her distance.

“Your name? “. “Sweetie “ – she lied. He didn’t enquire more for she didn’t face him anymore. Water splashed on the sides as the torpedo cut across at full throttle. 7: 45, night grew darker, the destination nearer. No more discussions ensued. The lamps were blind at the square too. Two minutes and she would be home. But the rain was ruder than ever consciously keeping her aware that dragging in the surge is impossible.

The rustling curtains brought her back. The cloth smothered his face in a sweet embrace. Her unrestrained steps rushed to help. She sat near watching his glassy green eyes. He had been motionless for long. Only a tear teasingly tickled his cheeks and she knew not if it was pain, happiness or hurt that stood unexpressed. Love and hatred stood detached in the indoors of stillness. His comatose alone knew the meaning of every tear. The vegetative state where death in life breathes like a ghost.

The next thunder prodded her to the past realities. The flood was getting fiery. The auto wouldn’t go further. Getting down, he opened the umbrella. Drops of water remaining on the black imported polyester splattered into the raining air.

“ Should I drop you home?” Just before the steps moved forward he offered her the cozy space under his umbrella. From nowhere came her quick affirmative. Maybe the confidence she delved in or the fear to be alone in wet darkness. They walked slowly wading in knee-deep waters. Lightning and followed it a deafening thunder. She screamed and hugged him tight like a kid to its dad. The guardian he was for her, if at all temporarily. The import of the brave act brought meaning only after she was back to her senses. She felt shy to look at his astonishment. The inviting steps of her house were meters ahead. Before reaching her mom’s worried waiting eyes, she bid him a thankful adieu.

“Am not Sweetie” The answer made him turn, the same smile creasing his lips. He didn’t clarify what her name is. She stood guilty like a criminal, cursing herself over a 100 times for her over smartness, for doubting his integrity and something more, impressively inexplicable.

At some focal points in life they met again. She wordlessly opened her heart under his umbrella. They walked together. How many more monsoons went past? She lost count. The time machine stood a testimony to the never exchanged feelings. The tough man in him wrote paeans of praise to woo her. The silence remained muted. He was a lyricist, a poet, and a man above intellect.

The warm Sunday morning. Easter .At the church the Sunday mass emptied and so did the Holy Communion. Kids playfully ran around oblivious of the heartbeats in the proximity. It wasn’t raining. Yet he opened the umbrella. She came under the shady shelter of his shadows & into the umbrella. His eyes reflected only her in the pupils. He kneeled down and looked up at her. She stood in awe surprised at the events of the moment. A red red, deep red rose popped from the secret behind. He professed with a handwritten poem. She didn’t know why…she could mumble only a faint NO… It drizzled. No applause. No illumination. She walked away drenched. His umbrella folded. The bemused face stood bewildered at his error in judgment. The ink of his poem jelled with a poetic grace in god’s showers. His tears veiled in the sprinkle and flowed along the cheeks, touching the chin and dripping unseen, for the dry earth to quench a greedy thirst. He drove the car at the frenzied pace.

The FM hummed his lyrics in a famous voice…

‘ Saw I the maiden of my dreams…. Had she me with her smile enthralled…

Yet another of his passionate composition dedicated to the lovely love in her.

Another hot tear slid down her dimpled cheeks. So did from his. The cheeks stolen of the chubbiness, wrinkled in all the wrong corners of a smile. She moved towards and placed a silent kiss on his lips. Dry and parched. The kiss devoid of passion, but occupied with compassion. The cotton dipped her fingers too in the glass of empathy and wet his lips. His gazes were set apart. The same emptiness from a bottomless pool. She prayed with her heart so sullen. “ Oh God. Let me hear the charming three words from him, I swear I LOVE YOU too dear with all my heart...” – the lonely spirit wept.

A finger moved, twitches sometimes surprised her, but devoid of the warmth she yearned for... She regrets for time had flown from her hands to amass the love he treasured for her. The vicious circle of life left her increasingly & incompletely viscous...