Riya

Riya loved monsoons.

First rain of every year,

she'd go to the roof

and dance till her feet were numb.

'Rains amplify everything,

don't you think?', she'd say.

'Tea feels better when its raining,

traffic is more annoying than usual,

green in the trees is brighter,

hugs are warmer,

what is it about rains?', she'd ask.

'Everyone is in a state of motion

when they're in the rain.

Kids are going to school,

students are going to colleges,

some are going to office,

some are going home,

Everyone has a purpose.

No one lingers in the rain.

The gardens are empty,

puddles are spotting playgrounds.

Everything that's moving

knows what it wants.

People falling in love,

falling out of love,

why does it feel so amplified?' she'd ask again.

Sometimes,

she'd go and play with paper boats

with the kids in our building.

Riya loved mosoons.

Sometimes I wonder,

if she had found her answer,

when she went to dance on the roof that evening.

When I saw her corpse on the sidewalk,

on my way in.

Even more when,

they told me they cannot see her,

when they hauled me into the hospital,

and told me,

Riya had been dead for 10 years.