Passed by

A bicycle rolled by, the child riding it expertly, half pedaling, half pushed by another child running behind, half laughing, half gasping.

The warn morning breeze of spring greeted Ketan, as he looked out of the only window of his 2nd floor apartment. How long has it been? 22 springs? The same breeze, the same warmth. The same empty street below. He took a deep breath of the freshness that is spring.

The minutes whilst away, as he lay by the window gazing out to the barren road below. What passes through his mind, none can tell. It has been 22 years since he finally got a job and moved out of his parent's. And ever since, in this small two room apartment, alone, living a quiet life.

Maybe he is looking back to his life; two and twenty years ago, he might have had dreams.; maybe he is dreaming about his old dreams, dreams that never came to pass. Maybe he is thinking about life, and how many more springs he have to endure, lying there, by the window gazing out to the empty street, until he can meet the final embrace of mother earth.

The two boys were arguing whose turn it was on the over-sized bicycle.

Part III The Morning After

Meenakshi didn't open her eyes. She recollects her thoughts about the previous night. How blissful the night was. It rained all night, and the air did smelled of wet fulfilled earth.

In the veil of the darkness behind her eyelids, she imagines her fear - was it all a dream? were those touches she felts not long ago not for real? Were those comforting words the tricks of the winds?

Before opening her eyes, to confirm her too human curiousity, she holds her breath and feels around the bed. A warm answer of flesh on flesh answers her inquiring fingers. Only then she dared to pen her untrustful eyes.

Rahul sleeps beside her blissfully, his eyes restful and closed. Meenakshi watches him thus for unaccounted moments, trying to drink in the handsome face of youth. An unchecked smile plays on her face, telling the story of happiness, love and hopes coming alive.

Part I: The rain never came
Part II: Of squalls and thunderstorms 

part II Of Squalls and thunderstorms

It was a dull Tuesday morning, the sky was a little darker then usual. A cool breezes wafts across the zagged plain of Safdurjung, touching one here, one there, with its cold fingers. Sometimes it stirs up some dried leaves and delivers them to unknown recipients. Meenakshi watches as thunders rolls on the sky, and brilliant lights threatens to tear the sky apart.

But she was most concerned with the rain. When would her rain come? At that moment a sweet sound of a song bird fill the june morning. Looking around, Meenakshi saw a boat-shaped black bird with white patches and a long black tail, with a crest on its head perched on the porch. Its feathers ruffled in the wind. Then the bird flew away.

In the evening, the sky had turned black, with streaks of blue lightening accompanied by heart stopping thunder. And it rained. Meenakshi ran out of her house to greet the rain with outstretched arms. She tilts her face upwards and the rain feels almost like a long forgotten kiss. Busy as she was embracing the rain, she didn’t notice Rahul coming but when she comes to her senses she finds herself in the arms of her long separated beloved. She looks deeply in his eyes. “It is raining”.

“I know.,” he replied, “That’s why I came.”

Part I: The rain never came

Part III: The morning after

Part I The rain never came

It didn’t rain tonight. Not that she expects any. The night sky glitters in mockery with clear twinkling stars which gave no comfort, only a little distraction while she imagine her fears. She sits on the chair on the porch waiting for something, maybe a little waft of zephyr breeze or someone else. The night slips by with only the moon to accompany her. The moon reminded her of the story where the moon waits for her love, the sun, but is forever destined not to, a dream which has no path to come to the realm of the real.

A breeze passes by but she didn’t notice, only the branches sway in acknowledgement. And Meenakshi, with a heavy heart sits silently, and waits for the non-existent cloud to give her some rain, with hope that the rain could quench the thirst inside her.

Part II: Of squalls and thunderstorms

Part III: The morning after