That Rainy Day

Rain was lashing at the window and it was getting quite dark. There were a few people on the road hunched underneath their umbrellas brazing the downpour.She looked out the window wondering how long it would take before they reach their destination.

She looked at the rearview mirror and could see his profile, stark and unrelenting.

How many people, she wondered?

Outside it continued to pour as he navigated flooded streets and avoided potholes.

She could see a few cars gutted in overfilled manholes, with no help. There wasn't a single cop in sight. What if she got stranded? Would this man ensure she reached her destination safe? Would people come forward to help? But where were the people.

Old hindi numbers played on the FM when the signal was strong. She smiled in nostalgia. Her group of friends couldn't wait for the monsoons. Dressed in t-shirts and shorts, braving the monsoons and worse, the fierce warnings of a permanent grounding from stern parents they would sneak out into the night. Late night walks, chai on the footpath and a stolen sutta. Ah, she had lived her life.

She sneaked a peak at the rearview mirror and saw him staring at her before he reverted his glance on the road.

Was he a stranger?

She saw someone desperately flagging the vehicle down. She would have passed on but the figure was vaguely familiar. She looked to see him raise an eyebrow in the mirror. She nodded and the car slowed down. He rolled down the window. "Which way?" "Santa Cruz." He looked at her and she barely nodded. "Hop on"

He got into the front seat flinging in his laptop bag. He took out his kerchief and mopped his face and brushed his air.

White shirt pressed against his linen vest. Was that sweat mingled with the droplets of water? His black hair plastered against his head was starting to curl into ringlets. She wanted to reach out and smoothen it out. Old habits were hard to stop.

He turned around and she stared back.

He hadn't changed.

Would he remember her?

He smiled. "Thank You." A pause.

"I was waiting here for quite some time but people want to reach their homes and not help a stranded stranger, quite obviously. I thought your car would pass as well."

She nodded.

"I need to reach home and can't thank you enough for stopping. I had promised to come home early and my daughter must be waiting for me at the doorstep. I had promised her yesterday too but you know how it is."

He shivered.

"I think I have met you before. Have we?"

She continued to gaze out the window. Walking around the campus, stolen moments at the library, the first kiss at her doorstep when her mom had opened the door and they had pulled apart in time. She still remembered his flushed face and her dazed look. Her mom had guessed something was afoot but maintained a stoic silence. Her dad had adopted the military gentleman outlook and yelled at her. He forbade her to meet him. His PG room was cluttered and he had been apologetic. Cigarette butts strewn all over . The mattress untidy, the place musty and reeking of old papers and smoke. He had cleared all the papers for her to sit on the bunker mattress while he went around trying to make the place look more bearable.

She waited patiently browsing the magazines and trying to avoid his frantic efforts. It pleased her immensely and she suppressed a smile.

He went to freshen up pulling the makeshift curtain hurriedly behind him.

She got up from the bunker bed and sprayed some deo around the room and herself. She walked to the long mirror on the bureau and checked herself all the while alert to his footsteps.

She was glowing.

She heard him and scampered back to the bunker bed pretending to browse the magazines. She wondered if he could hear her heart throb. It sounded like the rumble of a bullet. How could he not hear her?

He came smiling bearing a tray laden with cups of coffee and biscuits. "Sorry, this is all I had. Looks like the guys ate everything else. Shall I go get you something. There is a small cafe around the corner. They make good sandwiches. It won't take me too long."

She shook her head and reached out for the cup of coffee that he had lifted from the tray and extended to her. Their fingers touched and she jerked her hand back spilling some coffee in the process.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Clumsy me. Here, let me wipe it off," and fumbling attempts to get the coffee stain from her kameez. He brushed against her breast and her nipples perked up.

Did he notice that? She was thankful for the dupatta covering her.

She bent her head and adjusted her dupatta. She moistened her dry lips. She wanted water. She wanted him to kiss her.

She stole a glance at him. She found him staring at her.

She bent her head again and busied herself with sipping the coffee.

She felt him sit on the bunker mattress. She could feel his heat. She wanted to run away. Her body screamed for him to come closer.

She sat there frozen. He got up and took the coffee cup from her hand.

She let it go and continued to pretend she was elsewhere.

"Huh, perhaps I had better go. Your friends may resent my presence here."

"No, it's ok. They have extra classes today and will be in late. ........I picked these old classics. You may like it."

She got up to walk over to him. He was standing near the book case and peering at the books he had purchased. He turned around to look at her. She could feel him now. She extended her hand towards the book but found her hand straying to the ringlet near the curve of his neck. It felt soft and fuzzy to her touch. She twirled the curls which covered the nape of his neck.

She dropped her hand. "Huh, I have always wanted to do that," and gave a grin. He gave a sheepish grin and they relaxed.

They brought the books back to the bunker mattress and sat next to each other their bodies touching with not a millimetre of space. She could feel him breathe heavily and she was sure he felt her stir.

He brought his hand to rest on her shoulder and she leaned on to him. He smelt of soap and cologne. Old Spice. Why didn't her dad smell this way she wondered? He was gently stroking her head and nuzzling his head on her hair. She was glad she had taken care to use her special shampoo. She knew she smelt nice, rich, luxurious.

He turned her towards him and brought down his mouth to hers. Their lips touched and she could feel him shudder. She sneaked her tongue and she heard him start. She withdrew her tongue again. He prised her mouth open nibbling on her lower lip. She smelt his fresh breath and wanted to laugh out but his hand was on her breast fondling her.

It was her turn. She moaned in pleasure. He lifted her kameez and felt her heavy curves. She came closer till she was almost on top of him. He adjusted himself so he could feel the fullness of her breast and the erect nipples. He brought his mouth down and suckled her gently. He felt her twist.

He tugged at her salwar strings. He was unable to undo it.

She slipped her hand in and loosened it for him. She put her hands inside his t-shirt and rubbed her palms against his chest. She could feel him tremor. She slowly brought her palms down to his belly. She was surprised to find him sport a kangaroo pouch and slowly moved circles around his belly. She heard him draw his breath in.

He gently eased her on to the mattress and looked at her. She was glowing. Her long hair in disarray. Her eyes sparkling and her lips parted. He kissed her brow.

He lifted her kameez and saw her cotton bra. She shut her eyes. He turned her over and undid the hooks, and kissed the curve of her back lifting her hair away. He buried his face in her hair and sighed.

He turned her around and slid her salwar off. She lay there looking up at him in anticipation.

He could feel his groins hurt. He couldn't hold on any longer.

He thrust his pyjamas off and saw her eyebrows raised in wonder as he came free. Big and pounding, he looked at her and saw her watch in fascination.

"Let me know if I hurt you. I will stop," he murmured and came on top of her. He was above her. He felt her hand guiding him to her crevice.

He felt the moistness envelop him. O Dear God, is this how it felt.

He started to thrust deeper and deeper into her, no longer caring if he hurt her. He felt her nails digging in. He heard her moan in the distant. He opened his eyes to see her screw her eyes shut tight. He continued to thrust. He could feel the build up. Could he hold on he wondered. He felt her go tense and taut under him. He heard her yell. It aroused him further and he pounded into her. He felt his climax and arched higher shouting out her name.

He looked down to see her satisfied smile.

Did it really happen she wondered? Were they lovers? She remembered the disturbing scene when he had come home to propose to her formally. Her father had greeted him at the patio and not allowed her to see him. She had stood inside and heard her father's stilted words deriding him for his lack of status. She heard his voice but couldn't make out what he said.

She waited for his call. She went to his room only to be told he had vacated.

She felt betrayed. She held on to hope.

She had won a scholarship and a new life awaited her. Perhaps, he was waiting. Should she? The scholarship offered her a chance to freedom. She made new friends, she moved on. She went in for a consultation.

Her mother had passed away happy in the knowledge that her daughter was happy in a new place, a new life.

There was no one to share the news with, no one to hold on.

Here he was.

How would his daughter look? Did she have her dad's ringlets that curled up at the nape of the neck. Would her brows scrunch up when she concentrated on something? Did she get dimples when she smiled?

How old was his daughter?

He turned around to see her properly for the first time since he had gotten in. The hazy cobwebs cleared up and he remembered.

It all came back.

He looked at the man driving the car.

"Excuse me could you stop?"

"Why sir?"


"This is where I get down."

He got down and came towards her side.

He looked in to thank her.

There was no one.

"Where is the lady who was sitting here?"

"Who sir?"


"The lady who asked you to stop."

"Sir, I saw you waving your hands out and felt sorry for you since it was raining. There wasn't anybody else sir. I'm on the way home myself and thought i could drop you off if your house was anywhere close to where i stay."

He looked perplexed and craned his neck inside. He saw a newspaper clip on the carpet. It was nearly tattered. "Fond remembrance. She loved and she lived. Your presence will always be felt." 

It was dated that day exactly fifteen years to the day.