The Longing and The Drizzle – By Sreesha Divakaran

Rain washes away time and distances. A he-and-she story catalysed by rain. Read this piece by Sreesha Divakaran for our writing prompt #RaindropsOnPaper.

He was done with his work here and was ready to go back to his own office campus. On an impulse, he decided to dial her number. He had come to this campus several times. But today felt different. It was drizzling. A memory resurfaced from some forgotten corner of his mind – she loved the rains. He did not know why he wanted to see her. He hadn’t thought of her in over three years. Then why was he not disconnecting the call? Right, because the call was being answered with a tentative “Hello?”
“Hey. It’s me,” he said. She knew.
“Hey. How’ve you been? Long time.”
It wasn’t the time to exchange pleasantries. He was done with his work. His manager would’ve received a report that stated the same. He had to be back at his campus before his manager noticed how long it was taking him to get back.

“I am at your office campus. Wanna meet?”

She blinked. She was stunned. It was the call she had been waiting for… for over three years. “Yes. I’ll be right down.” She was aware of her manager’s eyes on her. She was also aware she had been taking exceedingly long breaks, far too often of late. But her manager asked her no questions. She took the elevator down and sprinted out to the lawn. He was standing on the granite steps that stretched across the sloping lawn. He was thinner, perhaps, but his smile had not lost the mischievous, slightly sarcastic quality that it always had. She wondered why he had called her. She had heard from friends that he had come to the campus before, but had never called her before.

As she approached him, she saw droplets of rain on his glasses. But the eyes behind the glasses were warm, gentle.

“Let’s walk.” he suggested.
“Wipe your glasses first.” She laughed, trying to cover up her nervousness.

“Or you could hold my hand and lead me.”

She looked at his slightly outstretched hand. She thought of the number of times she had imagined this happening. She wondered why now, when it was too late. Or was it too late? She linked her fingers through his. It did not seem new or unfamiliar. It felt like what was meant to be. And the years and silences were washed away with the drizzle.

Raindrops…write about a memory, a longing or a short fiction of 500 words. Best entries will be published here and a grand winner gets Rs 500 voucher. Submissions from 4 July – 31 Aug.

Be a part of our monsoon writing prompt #Raindropsonpaper.
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