Memories and rain are intertwined with each other. Nivedita Basu explores the strength of memories on a rainy day for our writing prompt #RaindropsOnPaper.
8th July, 2014
It is raining hard. And when it pours cats and dogs outside, something goes wrong deep inside. Some inexplicable feeling grips me tight. I feel a crunch in the stomach and I miss something real bad. I don’t know what in particular but I do. I have tried to nail it down every single time and I failed miserably each time. The splitter splatter of rain drops invariably whips up a platter of blurry memories.
And today sitting here in this room my mind goes back to a particular rainy day in school. Rainy day in school was always exciting. With the playground out of bounds, the whole school would gather in the corridors during recess and the gossip mill would start churning, new love stories would start brewing, pining would reach a maddening crescendo, old bonds would be severed to write new beginnings, nerds and junkies would strike a chord, Plain-Janes would set in motion an overtly animated brawl with the Hot-and-Happenings.
Leaning on the parapet wall my nasty little girl gang would spin magical yarns of happily-ever-after with the trending Prince Charmings and turn every Miss Show Offs crossing our paths into witches complete with fangs and horns. We would get lost in the labyrinths of our own fables oblivion of the gloomy sky pouring its heart out. Ah! Teenage bliss.
And on a particular rainy day while I was busy ripping off a certain Miss-Know-It-All into pieces with my girl gang savoring the taste of murder-in-gossip I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder.
I turned around and all of a sudden the ‘gentle’ graduated expeditiously on the Richter scale and I felt an elephantine earthquake in my heart.
It was Sukrant. His intent gaze had the competency to melt anyone’s heart in a jiffy. How I wanted to get lost his honey-brown retinal maze! That hint of smile in the casual sway of his lips could ruffle a thousand hearts. His toned body emanated a sensuousness that could evoke a thousand wild dreams as soon as you set your eyes on that to-die-for torso.
He scratched his head unmindfully. He stole quick glances. He looked around.
And I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. Words left me for good.
I tried to reciprocate but all I could manage was an embarrassing gurgling sound. My heart was thumping and I just prayed it wasn’t audible from a feet’s distance.
“Last day I saw you near the canteen and I don’t why I wanted to talk to you and know more about you but I could not summon enough courage.”
Really! Is this happening? I wanted to pinch myself.
“Can we be friends?”
He must be playing some stupid Truth and Dare game with his friends. How else could I rationalize everything that was happening? I wanted to say something smart and not fall for the trap but after a 30 seconds pause all I could manage was a merely audible “OK”.
The doorbell rang bringing the traffic in my memory lane to a sudden halt.
I answered it.
“Your darling hubby.”
I rushed to open the door.
Sukrant’s voice opens uncountable flood gates in my heart even after all this time. His presence fills me up with an inexplicable glee even after all these years.
When I opened the door I saw Sukrant standing there with a huge bouquet of orchids, my favorite flower.
“Happy 25 years of knowing each other.”
And I wanted to say something beautiful and heart-warming but I could not just like ‘our’ first day.
Silent tears of ecstatic happiness rolled down my cheeks.