Geeta is a
voracious reader. For her reading a book is like drinking water. Words go down
her throat with 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 cant 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
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 in it. She
argued with herself. The light drizzle that night can hardly qualify as a 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 sea-side 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 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 which only makes the skin
moist.
As she sat
staring at sky, taking in sound of sea, she saw him for the first time. Or rather
the second time. She remembered seeing him in 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 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 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.
