A Letter To The Boy-In-Rain

To,

The-boy-in-the-Rain,

The late evening rains always remind me of you. It is 6 p.m. The rain is beating heavily on the window panes. I open the window, tiny drops dance on my face and drench me with your memories.

The first time we met, I was twirling and dancing in the rain, on the terrace of our apartments. I was embarrassed to see a stranger and bit my lips, my hands clenching to my skirt. You laughed and jumped and twirled in the rain. We did our separate dance in the rain until my mother had called my name, and I had to leave.

We met again. Another late evening rain. You were buying spinach, and I was standing next to my mother who was busy bargaining at the same vegetable stall. Both of us staring at each other through the corner of our eyes, but none of us had the courage to speak - a bit of awkwardness and a tinge of shyness.

And after a fortnight, we dashed into each other. You smiled and called me the-girl-in-the rain? I asked, “What?” You replied, ‘Whenever I see you, it rains.’ And that very moment, there was a slight drizzle, and we ran under a shop’s cover. I stood there watching the skies, feeling the tiny raindrops on my face and your smile on me.

Twenty years later, your memories are still fresh, like the scent of the earth, like the fresh cup of ginger tea, like the leaves dancing in the air, like the hibiscus blooming. Sometimes I wonder if there was more than the rain to us. A love story that we missed? And if there was one, would we be dancing in the rain, the same way we did then?

There were few after you and eventually, I married a nice guy and I am blessed with two kids. But no one touched my heart the way you did. Our love had an innocence, a sweet honest teenage tale that’s incomplete.

You must be married too and having children. But as I feel the rain drops falling on my face, I wonder, does the rain drench you with my memories the way it does to me? Does the rain stir up a hope of meeting me one day on such late rainy evenings?

Still holding the droplets from that day in my palm,

---- The-girl-in-the-rain.