The Rain

The mist was making it difficult to see the Rhododendrons from the window. The snow-covered peak of Kanchenjunga shining bright on a sunny day was also not visible that day. The grey monochrome set outside was of her favourite shades of natures that she had seen over the past few years in the hills. The sense of melancholy and mystery accompanying the grey outside was something she found the most interesting. On a more colourful day, blue perhaps she would go out to the market to get her groceries and on a pink day she would visit her friends go out for walks to have picnics. But a grey day was just for herself. On this, she would be by herself in her favourite corner of the room by the window with a mug of coffee and a writing pad. This was the day when her thoughts found words, her expressions turned into sentences and she would create a whole new world of her own.

She was Meira. She was a pharmacist at a reputed pharmaceutical company in Sikkim. She stayed alone in a little picturesque cottage along with Mauree the househelp. Mauree was a middle-aged widow whose husband had died last year during an avalanche when he was driving a party from Sikkim to Siliguri. Her only son Girish was in the army. Meira and Mauree shared a great compadre. Every evening they would sit on the porch and talk till the late hours. Meira had never felt more at home here than her own place in Lucknow. She had lost her mother at a very young age and her stepmother was not bad but she never could connect to her. Her relationship with her father was also not very healthy. Luv bhaiya was her only best friend but he was now settled in Australia. It has been almost five years since Meira had visited her parents or her parents visited her. She was happy here.

"Beta what is that you are writing today?" asked Mauree. Without looking up Meira replied "I'm thinking of writing a horror story. What say kaki you want to read it?" joked Meira she knew how scared Mauree was of ghosts. "No no don't write about all this stuff beta they bring negative energy in the house."- shuddered Mauree. "If that would have been the case then HP Lovecraft's home would have been the epicentre of negative energy. Or shall I ask Stephen King whether he has any extra negative energy to spare? Seriously Mauree kaki can be so childish at times.", thought Meira. She began to write again. It had started to rain within some time. Meira looked outside the window and her thoughts subconsciously wandered off to Purab da. It was also a rainy day like this when she had met Purab da. She still vividly remembered the drenched gentleman wearing a purple shirt standing at the door. Purple, her Purab da's colour. That year it rained so hard that instead of staying for a few hours before the rain stopped, Purab da had to stay for 3 days with them. This writing habit of hers was also because of Purab da. She hadn't expected him to contact once after he had gone. He didn't disappoint either. Why was she thinking of him? Today was not a purple day she didn't have a purple day since Purab da. So what happened all of a sudden? Why couldn't she stop her thoughts today?

"Love clasps his arms around the awakening bride, till from the sullen foliage of heart, Passion and thought and impulsive start: So April, down this rolling garden side,..." he went on. "The Rhododendron by Sir William Blake. Am I right?", I asked as Purab finished reciting the poem looking at the Rhododendrons in my garden. "Yes, of course, you are write." During the time Purab stayed with them Meira and he discussed a lot about books. As it turned out reading was their common passion. He was a student of English Literature at JNU and was here on a solo trip. "Why don't you write? You have such beautiful thoughts.", Purab had asked her when they were talking about the colours of the day and what it meant for her. "Is there a colour for the day we met?", Purab had asked before leaving. "Purple", she had replied. "Make sure no one has this colour other than me. It's our colour." - and he had left. Sleepyhead Purab was the most serene look she had seen on anyone else's face. How she had kept staring at him at the breakfast table the next day making him extremely uncomfortable brought a smile to her face. He had instantly fallen in love with Mauree kaki's Kinema curry (made with fermented soya bean with a tadka of turmeric powder, onion, red chilli and tomatoes added to the gravy to further enhance the taste) at lunch. Said he had never eaten something so tasty and unique. He even asked for the recipe from her to which she kindly obliged. At the dinner, he made our butter chicken and boy was that tasty! Mauree kaki also liked him a lot. He even sang "Maeri! Maeri!" for kaki. Kaki blushed like a new bride.

Lost in her thoughts Meira looked outside her window. The falling rain has made a veil of the transparent curtain between her and the road in front of her cottage. In between the curtain of incessant rain she saw a silhouette of a person clad in a black raincoat from head to toe walking. The rain was making it difficult to see properly. As the silhouette came closer she could figure out that the person was coming towards her home. As she started to think who might have come in this incessant rain suddenly she heard the calling bell. Opening the door Meira gasped at the person standing there. It was him. Purab da had come to see her finally after so many years! For a few seconds, Meira didn't say anything neither did the man standing outside her door. "Won't you invite me in?" asked Purab. "Yes... yes yes. Please do come in". She let him inside. Meira knew this was her Purab da yet there was something about him that was bothering her. The man standing in front of her was paler and leaner than the man she knew. Lost in her thoughts Meira didn't hear Purab calling her name. "Meira. Meira, hey you ok? Hello Meira!" "Yes absolutely. Just a little surprised to see you." "Oh yes. I had been thinking for some time to visit you. Then I got an invite to the literary seminar that is to be held here on 16th. I accepted instantly," said Purab. Meira couldn't find words to express how she was feeling. Just a few moments before she was thinking about him and now he is here sitting on the sofa of her living room. "Would you like some tea? I'll tell kaki to make some," asked Meira. Purab said he didn't want any tea and he had only come to see her once. He didn't have much time.

"You still the same from the day I left you. That smile of yours I could never forget in these many years. Did you start to write? I would love to read what words you have woven around those beautiful thoughts of yours. You know I have finished my Doctorate in Colonial and Post Colonial Literature. The one you had asked me to do..." Purab went on for some time talking about her, about himself that's when Meira found a tear trickle down her cheek. Suddenly Purab bent and kissed the tear trickling down her cheeks. "I have missed you, Meira." "I have missed you to Purab da."

"Why are crying my child what happened?" - Meira felt a gentle hand on her shoulder she turned around to see Mauree kaki standing there and she was still sitting by her window. Meira got up hastily to look for Purab but somehow she knew in her heart she wouldn't find Purab in there. "Was that a dream? No, it can't be it felt so real. Purab da was here. Where did he go?" thought Meira. And thus began the fight between logic and heart. Meira knew he was not there at present but her heart also knew he was there a little while before. Not saying anything to Mauree. Meira kept searching for a logical reason. The next morning it was blue the sky had cleared. But Meira didn't feel like her colour blue. She opened the newspaper sitting on the porch. Mauree kaki had just brought in hot tea and biscuits. While reading the news on the front page she saw a little article on the left. "Accident on the route from Darjeeling to Sikkim. 10 dead as the jeep carrying them skidded and fell off the clip. Remains of the people not found probably washed away by rain". Something about this article was not good. She turned to the page where the entire article was there. "Accident on the route from Darjeeling to Sikkim. 10 dead as the jeep carrying them skidded and fell off the clip. Remains of the people were not found probably washed away by rain. Passengers had boarded from NJP. It was a group of professors from all over India who were going to Sikkim to attend the annual literary seminar on the 16th of this month. Names of the passengers will shortly be released by the organizers. For any further detail please contact the organizers." Meira didn't read the rest of the news she already knew what had happened. Purab da had come after all.