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Pitter Patter

May 21, 2012
She hit the ‘Shutdown’ button and watched small windows dancing up and down on the screen. To her right, she could see the raindrops making indecipherable patterns on the windows. She stretched her hands and let out a small sigh. “When will it stop raining in Mumbai?” She laughed at herself. Such a rhetoric question! She got up from her seat and started collecting her belongings.

There were two other people in front of the elevator. She waited impatiently, watching the floor numbers flash in the descending order. There were more people inside the lift. Blank faces, haggard from a 10 hour work day, with a distant look in their eyes, pre-occupied by the thoughts of the long hours of commute ahead of them or better still, of a home cooked dinner awaiting them at the end of it. How she wished she had similar thoughts in her mind. She shrugged at the thought of her empty apartment and some left-overs in the fridge.

She walked out of the elevator into the lobby. Many people were waiting in the lobby hoping that rain will subside sometime soon. But she didn’t hold such thoughts. She took out her umbrella and ventured into the rain. There was dirty water all around, nevertheless, people were walking on the road, avoiding potholes with the skills of an acrobat. Wind was gushing in the opposite direction, but she held on to her umbrella with a vengeance. She tried to stop a good number of auto-rickshaws, but no one seemed to be going in the same route. She continued walking aimlessly. She was passing by a slum area and that is when she saw a group of children playing with the rain water. Seeing the paper boats floating around, she felt something tugging at her heart.

She could hear their laughter clearly in her head. The image was slightly blurred though. It was she and her own sister running through the stair-way with some sheets of papers in their hands. They both sat down on the last step and started making paper boats. One by one, the boats started floating in the water – some capsized, but some went on for long distances as though they were on a mission. The neighborhood kids soon joined in and boating races were conducted to see whose boat will travel the farthest.

A loud splash of water and she was brought back to reality. The mud water fell on her too and she bit her tongue hard to suppress the curse words that were about to fall out of her mouth. The wind was playing a tug of war with her umbrella, but she didn’t have any intention of giving in. She continued walking looking for an auto-rickshaw, but in vain. In front of her was a mother-daughter duo; the mother was carrying her daughter and they both were under one umbrella. They held on to each other as if they were inseparable. She looked fondly at them.

She had always loved rain when she was younger. The smell that emanates from ground when that first raindrop hits the ground, the beauty of watching the rain through a window, the cozy feeling of curling up inside the blanket, eating pakodas and drinking hot tea – she loved each and everything associated with the rain. But she still feels nobody loved rain more than her mom. She could see her mom perched in front of a window for hours watching the raindrops hitting the ground. She had always hugged on to her mom and slept during thunderstorms, with the wind and rain singing a melodious lullaby in the background.

Another splash of water and this time it was a car. She was at her wit’s end. Fully drenched and walking in the muddy water for the last half an hour had really made her irritable. She started looking for some shelter around her. Not so far, she noticed a group of girls, barely in their 20s, giggling and walking in the rain. They were jumping up and down, dancing and enjoying the rain to the fullest.

“It is raining, come on everybody let’s go to the rooftop”, her friends were shouting. In no time, twelve of them were on the rooftop of their college hostel, jumping up and down and running about in the rain. Hold no bars; the first rain of the season should be enjoyed to its fullest. They played antakshari, pulled each others legs and danced away the evening in rain.

Again a strong gush of wind; but this time instead of holding on to her umbrella, she let it go. She opened up her arms and experienced the raindrops falling effortlessly on her face. She could feel a small tear drop forming on the brink of her left eye, but she just let it be.

P.S: This story of mine was voted to be in the top ten stories and got published in my office magazine about a year ago. I thought of sharing it here today.

P.P.S. I am travelling for the next two weeks and will be moderating the comments till the time I am back. I will be replying to the comments and reading your blogs as soon as I am back.


From → story

  1. Nice one..Nostalgic.:)

  2. Lovely! 🙂 Been so long since I stopped holding my umbrella uptight. Been so long since, I danced in the rain…..!Cheers! Do stop by my blog – Kappu!

  3. @Minimol: Thanks :)@Kappu: We should dance in the rain once in a while !

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