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On A Rainy Day…

“Here is the drop for you, freshly from heaven,” I said as I removed my hand from her shoulder and showed her the pearl drop on my hand. She looked at my hand with some skepticism and then looked up to see the black thundering clouds in the steel grey sky. Plunk, went another drop, right on the edge of her lower lip.

“There you are. It is raining.” I said to her putting my hand back on her shoulder and pulling her a bit closer to me. Our eyes met for a while and I took my chance to remove the rain drop from her lip with my fingers – I could feel a slow setting shiver on it. I may never know if that was the cold weather or the touch of my fingers on her lip that gave that shiver. Her shoulder was pressed under my arm, her hand was around my waist and we continued our walk towards the bus stop. Our footsteps had a silent rhythm in them, a rhythm of what you call love. Our hearts could feel each other.

Only moments had passed when it poured, and poured heavily.
Within minutes we were sitting in the only café near our college which was one of our favorite haunt. The café was open and we could feel the rain coming in to make its presence known to us. We were one of the few customers that were there in the café and both, the mood and the weather demanded coffee to be sipped, so we ordered one each.
The sudden shower had completely drenched both of us. Our college bags were lying on the chairs beside us and we were sitting on a table of four opposite to each other. My right hand elbow was on the table and my chin was resting on its palm. My eyes were looking at only one thing – her beautiful face. I had my time now, to appreciate her beauty, to just look at her beautiful face and admire.
What happens when you see the Taj Mahal for the first time in your life, or you experience the rise of a full moon on the horizon where sea and sky meet? You are awed by its beauty and want to take in more, and more, and more, with your eyes with every passing second. You begin to admire the carvings that are done on the white marble of the Taj. You begin to like the softness of the glow that the full moon leaves over the horizon that makes the sea look like liquid silver. I was also awed by her beauty, especially with the tiny droplets of rain adorning her face. She looked fresh like a lotus flower that has just opened its petals with the first rays of the sun. She was busy drying her hair, wiping her face and rinsing extra rain from her dress. I felt like looking at her for ages. Every look at her face filled my heart with new desire to look more and see more of her eyes, her lips, her cheeks – I wanted to be a poet then and there and write verses that just spoke of her. It is said that you can touch people with your eyes. I might have done so at that time! She felt the touch of my eyes on her. I can´t forget the look of her deep eyes that she gave me with a raised eyebrow, when she felt my eyes on her.
“What are you looking at?”
The question was simple and simpler was the answer.
“You,” I said without caring to remove eyes from her. We were now staring in each other´s eyes. The rattle of the rain was dead, the chatter of the people around us was gone and all we could hear was silence. Those seconds did not last long in real time but at that time it felt a lifetime.
“Don´t look at me like that,” she said as she averted her eyes to the rain outside. A slight shyness was visible in her voice. She was smiling. A small smile that is very hard to see through naked eyes, a smile that travels all the way from your heart to your lips but somehow does not make it; but you know the smile is there when you see it, you feel the smile. I felt it.
“Here´s your coffee sir.”
The rattle and the chatter came back in an instance when the waiter kept two cups filled with freshly brewed coffee, a perfect drink, for a perfect day.
***
December, 2009                                                                                  
“Shall I clear the table Sir?”
I came back from the trance which I was in. May be it was the caffeine that did it or the slow instrumentals that were being played in the café or both of them combined which took me four years back in my life.


….. Lokesh Goyal 

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