The rain was quite unexpected in such a time, when most of the population believed that it will not rain, as the rainy season was delaying itself over Amaranjeri. Most of the government officials have ran away to Gorgi hills to escape from the scorching heat. The rain was quite welcome, to the extent that the student of the St.Paul's School came out running in midst of their lessons onto the playground, the teachers pulling them in, like shepherds clustering their flocks.
It was quite sudden. He left early from his office, which was hosting a retirement party for one of the senior managers. He didn't find any shelter in the lone road save for one huge tree. It was a banyan tree, with a wide trunk and the adventitious roots soon to make a collaboration with the soil. The borough was very wide and sparse, giving the look of a very huge dome. He saw the rain patter on the soil, creating a whitish veil in the hamlet, he wasn't able to see the houses a bit far much clearly.
He was feeling very idle, despising his stature for the time being. He saw a small mongrel walking away, crooked, totally wet. A herd of lambs were running away in unison, a moment later a boy with a stick shrieking and running behind them. He felt that someone else is present in the shade too. That person was standing around the curve of the trunk. A light scent of jasmine flowers conquered his senses, making him not able to contain his curiosity; he went on a bit and found himself face to face to her. He let out an audible "Ah!", looking confused and dejected.
When he regained his senses, he said, "No need to worry, I shall go." It seemed to be a very awkward thing to your wife after a long bout of separation. He returned to his old spot, but came back and said, "What brought you here?" He was feeling the anti-hypothesis that she might not reply, but she returned the verbal courtesy, "Rain." He chuckled and tried to view it as a joke, trying to make her amiable by laughing. He said, "Well it brought me here too..." She said nothing in reply; the weather being a reliable topic to talk on for ages, sometimes tracing back to the weather-chart of medieval ages. He tried to pull the balloon down before it floats away by saying, "Unexpected... Such a nice summer, time to despise now."
She said nothing and turned away, trying to concentrate on the neighboring banana tree. He still tried to drag onto it, "If I just had the intuition, I would've borrowed an umbrella from my colleagues." She still sought to ignore. She might prefer being deaf in such company. A feeling was emerging in him, wanting him to ask Are you deaf? but he feared that she might feel irritated. He knew she was capable to do anything when upset. He had never doubted the power of her feelings until that fateful night when the decision was made.
The skirmishes were visible even in the most minimal things of their married life. They had the most differed views on everything. Every question bore the catalyst for a crisis, none too insignificant. It might be anything - whether to watch the news or the serial, whether to listen to AIR or Local Radio, whether to see an English movie or a Hindi one, whether rose is better than jasmine, whether Al Pacino was better than Robert De Niro in Heat. All of them was followed by a breakdown, resulting into an erotic reconciliation.
In one of their periods of reconciliation, they signed sort of a pact, complete with clauses which will minimize their problems. They gave it to the temple before the gods, giving it a divine touch. Fatefully, the pact was short-lived. They quarreled again in less than twenty-four hours. Many things were wrapped in this fight, criticism of each other's family members, budget problems, household expenses, etc.
He felt grateful towards the rain now, that he got her cornered now. He got no news of her after that night, when he closed the door on her face. They were fighting over the food for the zillionth time, when she suddenly exclaimed of leaving the house. He shamelessly opened the door and said, "Go ahead," and held the door open until she walked straight in the middle of the street. He kept the door unlocked, with the belief that she will come back and he can be the dominant victor, but she didn't.
"I didn't thought that I'll see you again," he said sheepishly.
"Did you think I would go and take my life?" she asked.
"Yes," he answered.
"You would've then scouted for me in the wells, ponds or the big trees?" she asked.
"You missed out the river," he said, "No, I didn't."
"It would have been surprising to see you having concern about me," she said.
He said, "You didn't kill yourself after all, how could you blame me for not looking for you?" She rustled one of the fallen wet leaves with her feet and said through gritted teeth, "That proves you have no heart."
"Have I ever told you that you are unhelpful?" he asked.
"Oh, so you've started to read my character now? Blast this wretched rain which brought me here, of all places in this town." she exclaimed.
"I think the rain is blessed. It brought us together. May I ask what have you been doing with your life all these days?" he asked.
"Do you think I'll answer that?" He noticed a tinge of concern in her voice and felt a bit proud. Can he make her come back to him? It was on the tip of his tongue, he swallowed it down to his bowels. He kept a straight face and asked, "You aren't concerned about me? What have I been doing all these days alone?" She didn't sought to reply, she again began to concentrate on the banana tree.
All of a sudden, the wind sprayed up water on her face. He took this chance to advance towards her with his kerchief. She saw him and moved back, crying, "Don't you bother about me!"
"You are getting wet now unnecessarily." One of the branches gave way and splattered water over her head. "See? You can stand where I am now, by that you won't get wet. I shall stand there." he said pointing to her position. It was the best he can do to make her feel sympathetic. She replied with a straight face, "You need not care about me." "Shall I bring up an umbrella or get a taxi?" he asked. She shot a glance and said, "Am I your toy?"
"Toy? What makes you think of yourself like that?" he asked aghast.
"You may use me whenever you want, throw me whenever you want . For me, only toys are so meager to be treated that way." she said grimly.
"I didn't tell you to go away," he said.
"I'm in no mood to hear that again," she replied quickly.
"I am dying to say how sorry I am," he started.
"The crematorium's full, try that on somebody else," she said.
"You know perfectly well that I have no one else to say such to," he said.
"That's the trouble? I have no interest in it," she replied.
"Don't you have a heart?" he pleaded, "I mean when I am saying sorry, I am changed now for good."
"I am changed too," she said, looking straight into his eyes, "I'm not the one you knew. I don't expect anything, I make my own way now; I am not disappointed anymore," she said.
"Just tell me what you are doing?" he pleaded again. She shook her head in disagreement. He said, "Someone said that you've got job in the bank. See how I keep track of you!" She was quiet. He asked, "Do you live here or...?" It was plainly visible he was trying to shell out her address. She threw a glance at the rain, then at him. "I didn't tell the rain to come, so we can save some of our verbal energy. We can start anew."
"No. I've done enough. I've learnt to live after I got out of that hole of yours," and ran out in the rain, taking out an umbrella from her bag and opening it. "Wait! I promise I'll not talk ever again! Please come back!" She vanished in the veiled world. He muttered, "So she did have an umbrella..." and got a surge of happiness flowing through him. "Did she stop deliberately for me or...?" he thought.
The rain stopped after some minutes. He came out looking at the sky, smiling and walked away.