Rain And A Short Story

Geeta is a voracious reader. For her reading, a book is like drinking water. Words go down her throat with the same ease and leave the same satiated feeling. Writing too comes naturally to her. Every word with a different meaning, for a different feeling. At an age when her friends would play with dolls, she would play with words, jotting down songs, poems and jingles. Some her own, some borrowed, some copied and some revisited. Over the years she has participated and won many an accolade for her writings.

But today she is sitting in front of her writing desk, staring in blank space. Words are avoiding her, ignoring her, refusing to see straight in her eyes. She can't seem to find the right word to bring out her thoughts. She is almost regretting having accepted to write this piece.

It shouldn’t be such a big task after all. It’s a simple ask – write a short story about your best rainy-day memory. She can write anything, memories of playing in muddy puddles as a kid, roof-top rain dance with her friends, a bike ride in the rain with her husband or the evenings she had spent sitting next to her window, sipping hot tea and looking at dancing droplets. But every time she started writing, her eyes were flooded with memories of that one day. And more she tries to brush it aside, more it comes and stands in front of her. Just like a motion film. 

Why do I feel guilty about that day? She questioned herself. There is nothing wrong with it. She argued with herself. The light drizzle that night can hardly qualify as rain, she tried another logic. Yet nothing seemed to be working. It was certainly the most memorable memory of her life. While she had always enjoyed looking back on that day, to put it in words was becoming difficult. 

As is always, it was a long long time ago. Geeta had just entered the glamorous and ambitious corporate world. For the first six months of her job, she was sent on a whirlwind tour, attending conferences and workshops. Coming from a simple and modest background, the comfort and luxury of her 5-star residences made her believe that she had finally arrived – in career and in life.

During one of these conferences, they were staying at a seaside resort. After dinner, she changed from her formal suit to a long flowing skirt and strolled towards the sea. On her way she picked up two beer bottles from the conference room and then made her way towards the beach, leaving behind footprints in the sand.

As she settled on a rock, she felt life couldn’t get any better. Sand, sea, moon, and breeze – were her all-time favorites. And it just got better with the light drizzle wind carried on its wings. It was the kind that only makes the skin moist.

As she sat staring at the sky, taking in the sound of the sea, she saw him for the first time. Or rather the second time. She remembered seeing him at the conference earlier in the day. He was standing there facing the sea and sky. Another dreamer, she thought.

After that moment life moved just the way it happens in movies. He saw her, he came and sat down next to her. Initial pleasantries led to conversations, formalities transformed to candidness, smiles changed to laughter and everything around them worked its magic.

She could read his thoughts, as though they were her own. And none ever understood her the way he did. She could complete his sentences. He somehow almost always knew the right thing to say. The right word, the right expression. Talking to him was like talking to a mirror. They both shared the confidence of youth, apprehensions of future and fear of inexperience. 

Being complete strangers, the rendezvous had its own thrills. They could open their hearts, without any worries of being judged. They were not scared of being wrong. They were honest, they shared their true selves. Their fears, their dreams, so very different, yet so same. They were alone, but not lonely. Everything around them was silent, with only words flowing, flying on winds, warm and moist in a little drizzle.

That was probably the longest, and yet the shortest night of their lives. Only if it could extend into a lifetime.

Geeta Sighed.

The spell was broken with the first few rays of sun lighting up the sky. She gathered herself and ran back towards her room. Grass in the lawns was still wet from the previous night and looked greener than always.

They never met again. The evening did not need a perfect ending, it was perfect in its incompleteness. And it remained the best rain and the shortest story of her life.