When the rains kissed the wind

Varsha stood there that day by the beach, contemplating whether she should finally give in to her fears, her darkness and end her life for once and all. A person drowning in the sea was after all not uncommon in the Bombay monsoons. Sameer visited the sea like each day to engulf the salty moisture laden air, to feel the sense of optimism which the sea imparted to him. After all to feel released and liberated was the sense which the Bombay monsoons brought about.

Days later they spoke, less through spoken words and more through those little black printed letters that flashed on their mobile screens. He made her wise and she made the stoic him smile. They weren’t ever spotted together for their interests and their lifestyle made them the twain that could never meet.She was the fleeting butterfly who hoped out from one local to attend a dance recital only to hop onto another one a little later to rush for a drink at the local pub and strum her guitar and perpetually fail to meet office deadlines the next day. He was the disciplined one who would analyze, contemplate and then plan the day, time his schedules and made sure each day was productive. She lived like a manic, going without sleep for days and then hibernating for a few days to catch up on all the lost sleep with vigor as if she will not be able to sleep again ever. He lived by the watch and with his streaming mailbox showing him the way.

He asked her to slow down. She asked him to loosen up. They decided to come to a mutual consensus. After what seemed like barely six weeks, six months into their meeting, her colleagues at work fainted when she was punctual at a meeting impeccably dressed. In contrast he woke up with a bad hangover and called in sick to miss an important meeting, leaving his boss to wonder whether something was seriously wrong.Their dinner sessions were speckled with sarcasm; their drive home was filled with crazy tuneless songs. There was warmth in his face that made her glow. There was a spark in her eyes that made the world around lit up. There was a bond between them that spelled companionship and comfort.

There are moments in life which sweep you away and then there are moments which make you stand more grounded than before. The irony is people around you often remember, contemplate and interpret the former, with little attention to the later.
There wasn’t anything that was romantic, yet there was an faith that imparted life. She loved him in the way she had come to embrace life. He loved her in a way he had come to embrace laughter.She thought this would go on forever, which each day beginning with a smile and ending with a comfort sleep. He didn’t know how far this love would take them in a relationship that could never be named. Sometimes we are wise enough to know at the outset that some endings are never to happen in the fairy tale fame, yet when endings loom near it seems easier to end it abruptly rather than seeing through it. Sometimes being wise is not enough. Sometimes love is not enough. She depended on him and was scared to lose. He never had anything so was scared to depend.She felt she needed to talk. He felt he needed to talk.The dinner was at their favorite Italian restaurant. She was edgy. He was edgy too. But still they were comfortable, for there were looking into mirrors before themselves and not “another person”.They drank champagne till the French vineyards threatened to run dry and then they decided to walk down the beach. The cold wind and rumbling clouds made her shiver. Angry skies had always scared her.It was then that the lightning struck.He held her and looked straight into her eyes and told her that he was going away to a different land. She just stood there numb. She said he couldn’t leave her. He said he made no promise to stay ever. She reasoned that he never said he would leave.

He said they had found enough within themselves to sustain.The rains splashed around her and the lightning struck again. She closed her eyes and felt she would be dead that night. He forced her to open the eyes and face the rain.“It’s out to kill me!”, she screamed.“It’s out to save you!”, he shot back as he left her there stranded and walked towards the car.To look on as an outsider, a guy walked away from a scared girl on a rainy night leaving her stranded on the beach. To both of them he left her in the boxing ring with her fears, leaving her with the option to learn to fight back on her own and emerge victorious or to accept defeat. But yes with him waiting in the car for the victorious or defeated her.

It was her first morning without him. But strangely she was not unperturbed. It seemed as bright as yesterday when the phone buzzed to greet her. She smiled into the mirror which still whispered to her she was pretty, like it had been for the last year. She did not settle for grey instead picked up her favorite purple scarf. Lavender was his favorite. She wasn’t late for office and there was the same amount of positivism throughout the day. Yes she did check her phone for that non existent missed call or message but smiled at the blank screen instead of feeling sad.The rumbling clouds and a terrible rough weather made her colleagues advise her to go home early. She smiled and acceded, but didn’t drive home. She knew where she had to go.She stood by the sea shore, the salty water traces kissing her smiling face. She didn’t mind the salty traces of the vast water body that lay before her stinging her eyes.She had left her umbrella and socks in the car. She didn’t need them anymore. She now knew how to face her worst fears without bowing down to them. She looked at the sky and thanked the angel who had entered her life to change it forever. There are a few people who enter your lives to teach you to walk following the footprints they leave on the sand. There are others who teach you to fly like the migratory bird that shows you the way, but leaves no traces of the path followed – leaving it up to you to decipher your own way.He was the bird who helped her to unclip her wings and spread them wide. She now knew how to fly and was deciding on the course to take – confident and courageous she stood there. There was no bitterness for she knew that he had not stranded her but had taught her to live and lead a strong and contended life.

Strangely she still talks to herself in his voice in her head.....

----- Sagarika Chakraborthy

A corporate lawyer and author. She is currently studying at the Indian School of Business, Hyderabad. Her first book, A Calendar Too Crowded, is a collection of short stories and poems on womanhood.
 - An initiative to feature notable authors. 
A calender too crowded -- By Sagarika Chakrabarthy is the book "In Focus"


Miken Jain said...

I simply loved this piece. It is beautiful!

endowedwithmetis said...

Thank you so much Miken, I hope you visit my blog for more such writings :)
Sagarika (endowedwithmetis.wordpress.com)

deicider said...

Feels like music in my head.It is beautiful.

endowedwithmetis said...

Thank you so much for the wonderful comment, it's over whelming :)

dev said...

Heart touching write up A star author is born .Best wishes sagarika keep on writing such wonderful write up and touching people's life.

Reg Dev

endowedwithmetis said...

Thanks Dev,

That was really kind, what you said. Am touched, hope I can live up to the expectations :)


Esther said...

Soulful :)

endowedwithmetis said...

Thanks Esther,

You conveyed a lot through that one word :)

Meg said...

Lovely :)Nice read.

nazma said...

Awesome..... thought me somethng... really touching...
All The Best...

endowedwithmetis said...

@Meg: thank you so much. am glad you liked it

@Nazma: thanks for those lovely words ... they touched me too :)

Moumita Basu said...

Good work, Sagarika. Lovely story.

endowedwithmetis said...

Dear Moumita,

Thank you so much for the kindly words of encouragement.

Thanks and Regards,

Me said...

As always loved it Sagarika.....superbly written!!

endowedwithmetis said...

Thanks so much Pri :) .. and as always I love your kindness :) <3

sulekkha said...

'Lavender was his color', a beautiful story of love and lessons learnt. Loved it, Sagarika.

endowedwithmetis said...

Thanks Sulekha for the lovely words. Yes indeed love teaches you a lot and yes Lavender is still Sameer's favorite color, on Varsha of course! :)

PORTIA said...

nicely crafted.

endowedwithmetis said...

Thanks Portia :)

Sudam Panigrahi said...

Aw...just fabulous voice. Kudos. The fragrance of freedom and lightness...after the storm, well depicted.

Good one.

Good luck for your book Sagarika.

endowedwithmetis said...

Thanks Sudam, hope you shall come back to read more :)

Lavina Melwani said...

Enjoyed reading this - felt I was there on the beach caught in the monsoon!

endowedwithmetis said...

Wow Lavina - Thanks! - that's one of the best things I have heard about the piece! :)

Bappaditya said...

My little mamoni, feeling is so rich, it draws a line in mind even after finish reading and it kept me busy, thinking. Very good presentation. Love, Baba

endowedwithmetis said...

Dear Baba (Bappaditya,

This is the first time you read a piece as a reader and not as my father. Am glad you liked it. You made my day - wish could go to your arms and hug you. For though i bask as a writer there's no greater solace than to be your little girl.
Yours forever little Mamoni :)

dhruv said...

While reading it I was reminded of a story called Postmaster, by Tagore...may be it was due to similarity of theme, style of depiction or the dexterity to convey splendid things in simple prose....

endowedwithmetis said...

Dear Dhruv,
That's a huge honor you've bestowed on me - for he's the creator of my name. Thank you so much! :)

Dinh Ha said...

đồng tâm
game mu
cho thuê nhà trọ
cho thuê phòng trọ
nhac san cuc manh
số điện thoại tư vấn pháp luật miễn phí
văn phòng luật
tổng đài tư vấn pháp luật
dịch vụ thành lập công ty trọn gói

Ầm ầm ầm!

Nhuế Bất Thông mí mắt cuồng chớp, hai mắt thiếu chút nữa rớt ra ngoài... Quá bạo lực rồi! Đây quả thực là một đôi huynh đệ tuyệt thế!
Rốt cuộc cũng kết thúc.

Hai huynh đệ nằm trên mặt đất, mặt mũi bầm dập, thở hồng hộc.

"Mẹ nó, thằng nhãi này tiến bộ không ít nhỉ!" Kỷ Chú Kỷ đại thiếu hít mấy hơi lạnh, đưa tay khe khẽ vuốt vết máu ứ trên mặt mình, miệng không ngừng chửi rủa: "Không ngờ dám đánh ta? Ta là đại ca ngươi, từa xưa tới nay, huynh trưởng như cha, ngươi là đồ hỗn trướng, khi sư diệt tổ."

Lời vừa nói ra, Nhuế Bất Thông bên cạnh nhịn cười đau cả bụng: người như ngài cũng không biết xấu hổ nói tới mấy chữ huynh trưởng như cha?"

"Đánh chết thằng ranh nhà ngươi!" Kỷ Mặc Kỷ nhị thiếu gia chổng mông, quỳ rạp trên mặt đất, một tay cố gắng xoa xoa cái mông vừa bị chà đạp điên cuồng của mình, rồi lại khẽ hít một hơi lạnh, miệng không ngừng lẩm bẩm.

"Kỷ Mặc, sau khi trở về gia tộc, ta sẽ bẩm báo phụ thân tất cả hành động của ngươi, từ đầu tới cuối. Để lão nhân gia định tội ngươi! Còn phải họp trưởng lão hội, thương nghị xử phạt ngươi... ôi chao...." Kỷ Chú hung tợn đếm ngón tay.

"A! Ca! Đại ca!" Kỷ Mặc lập tức khóc lóc chết đi sống lại: "Ta với ngươi là huynh đệ cùng một mẹ, tim liền với tim, máu liền với máu, xương gãy còn đau tới gân a. Ta là huynh đệ ruột của ngươi a, ngươi ngươi ngươi, ngươi sẽ không nhẫn tâm như vậy chứ. Vạn nhất ngươi bẩm báo lên gia tộc, tiểu đệ ta sẽ xong rồi, ít nhất cũng bị nhốt vào hắc động ba năm..."

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