After returning home, all drenched in the first shower of this summer, I realized that the little drops are a virtuoso in washing away all the scowl factors from my mind. To tack on, this blissful evening downpour had stored something for me than the usual dust, storm, and drizzle.
Munching some super oily street-side snacks, I was strolling around the sleepy, ill-lit lanes and rapping about my confused thoughts- well, of course, there was him- dawdling and nodding as usual.
There was no sign of rain, so we were not geared up with a ‘pyar hua ekrar hua’ prop. And then, all of a sudden it started raining, heavily and crazily. Along with it, came the impassioned windstorm. To clear any doubt, it was not a steamy ‘tip tip barsa pani’ moment or even a filmy ‘zoobi doobi’ shot for us.
Utterly annoyed, we two rushed towards a closed storefront. There we stood for at least an hour, and surprisingly, a moment later, I found him guarding me against the gust and spray. No, he did not set out to be a hero there, for, I knew that it was his instinct that knocked him.
And, on my way back home, it was not just his intuitive gesture that made me smile –for, the rain reminded me of a story shared by ‘ma'. 26 years back, I was with her at a government hospital, marking my date of birth; it was raining heavily, and the giant window of the labor room was open, so she spent the whole night shielding me from the monsoon blows.
And that evening, I knew that our story might not have fancy date episodes or cozy clicks but a bouquet of evergreen moments.