The forgotten portrait

It was one of those rainy days where everything that could go wrong, did.

My commute was a total disaster. Even with a raincoat on, I ended up drenched, spending the first two hours at work feeling cold, damp, and thoroughly irritated. Naturally, it completely threw off my focus for the rest of the day.

From there, the domino effect took over: I managed to spill coffee all over myself at the canteen, dropped my phone twice, and for the grand finale—just as I stood up to give my presentation—the power cut out completely. It was, without a doubt, just not my day.

At 4:30 PM, my phone buzzed with a call from Neha.

"Hey, you haven't forgotten today's plan, have you?"

I paused, frantically searching my memory. "Yeah... shopping, right? 6:30 sharp. Get ready!"

The moment 5:00 PM hit, I shut down my laptop and bolted out of the office. The universe, however, had other ideas. It was raining again. Muttering every curse word I knew, I forced myself into my still-damp raincoat and kicked my bike into gear.

The ride home was an absolute nightmare. Flooded streets had paralyzed traffic, leaving me completely stranded. By 5:30 PM, as dusk settled in, I was stuck motionless in the torrential pour. I was supposed to take my family out to prep for Amy's fifth birthday next week. Between Neha’s packed calendar and my brutal work hours, this was our one and only evening to make it happen—and watching it fall apart in real-time was agonizing.

My phone kept vibrating, but there was no way I could answer it in the middle of this mess. Needing a breath, I veered my bike toward a roadside tea stall and parked it under the overhang.

""Normal or strong?" the shopkeeper asked over the steam.

"Nor—no, make it strong. Two spoons of sugar," I blurted out, completely against my usual preference. I honestly didn't even know why I said it—maybe my fried nerves just craved the hit.

The stall was buzzing—packed shoulder-to-shoulder with fellow riders waiting out the rain. Above the drumming of the storm, the noise inside was loud. Spying an open chair near the back, I wove through the crowd and collapsed into it.

Sitting there, I suddenly caught the faint, nostalgic melody of an old Hindi song floating from an ancient radio in the corner, barely audible over the chatter of the crowd.

“Abhi na jaao chhod kar, ke dil abhi bhara nahi "Movie: Hum Dono gaayak: Mohammed Rafi, Asha Bhosle

sangeethkar: Jaidev

geethkar: Sahir Ludhianvi " 

Something about those timeless notes hit me like a wave. The overwhelming weight of the day, the stress, the exhaustion—it all seemed to freeze in time. Before I could stop them, tears began to well up in my eyes.

"Strong tea..."

The tea boy's voice broke the spell as he set down the steaming cup in front of me.

As the radio played on—“Abhi-abhi to aaye ho, abhi abhi to…”—the tea shop seemed to melt away, and a vivid memory flashed before my eyes.

Suddenly, I was back in my college auditorium, sitting on a single stool with an acoustic guitar in my hands, facing a sea of roaring students. The moment I struck the opening chord, the crowd erupted.

“Abhi na jaao chhod kar…”

The entire hall electrified. Every single line felt like an arena concert, the audience singing along with every word. When I sang the lines—
“haan yehi kahoge tum sada ...ke dil abhi bhara nahi
Haan dil abhi bhara nahi Nahi nahi nahi nahi"
—I let the final note linger and stopped playing. The room burst into a roaring standing ovation. In that moment, I felt like I was standing in heaven.

Those days... those were the days I was truly me.

My phone rang, instantly shattering the memory. It was Neha.

"Hey, where are you? I’m completely stuck in traffic," her voice crackled over the line. "You're okay, right? The rain is just too heavy... let's push the shopping to another day. Drive safely, okay?"

"Okay..." I whispered, hanging up.

As I lowered the phone, a stray tear slipped down my cheek and splashed onto my hand.

"Bhaiyya?" the tea boy asked, pausing as he noticed my face.

"It's just the tea... the steam got to my eyes," I lied, forcing a small smile.

I finished the tea in silence, picked up my laptop bag, and stood up. Outside, the rain had finally begun to ease, and the stranded crowd started stepping back out onto the street. But as I walked away, the old radio played the note...

”  bas ab na mujhko tokna na badhke raah rokna 
Agar main ruk gayi abhi  to jaa na paungi kabhi....."

Yes, it's definitely not my day..... 

- Uthara Thomas