Rainy Day Secret

It was almost a similar afternoon, undue rain had made me unnecessarily lazy. Our paying guest house had seven boarders. Sushila-di, a central school teacher was busy marking the half-yearly answer sheets that had to be shared before the school closes for puja vacation. My roommate had gone out for a movie with her boy-friend. The room next had a new boarder Ritu.

Those days I worked for an engineering consultancy organization, a perfect 9 to 6 affair for five days.  My wallet was lean and leisure was unbound.  In the patterned life of a bunch of Bengalis, Ritu from Bangalore was a fresh air. That was her first week end.  I must be reading some cine magazine (borrowed from Kakima – owner of the guest house), when she popped in –

-          “I would be out, do let Aunty know if she asks. Hope to join you all for dinner.”  - She informed politely. Her moves were so well managed that it left no chance to enquire more.  For a while I was left curious to think of all possible places that she may go. Young mind can think between the lines the most optimistic way.

Our rooms where located in the ground floor. One end was a small verandah and the other end was the general entrance door which was generally latched. The semi dark romantic sky had promises unseen.  Through the painted grills of the verandah moist air gushed in and out. Careless breeze left behind a few nimble drops of water, which hung from the curved edges of the grill. The black and white glam world created a rhythm of its own.  The perfect moment of silence broke on the press of the doorbell at the other end –

-          “Courier…”

I stepped forward. A middle aged courier man, in a wet rain coat stood behind the collapsible gate. In an hurried tone he proclaimed – “Ritu Sahani..” . It was a simple ask, however he sounded like a teacher calling upon rolls. I volunteered - “Am her roommate, can I?”.

My first one year of engineering consultancy was mostly about practicing autograph on sanctioned engineering drawings. With all enthusiasm I put in my signature and accepted the colorful floral pack on behalf of our new boarder. Kept the gift on her well laid out bed.  On one side of the wrapper there were two bold hand written blocks qualified as To and From. Inquisitive eyes read – Deepak Singh……Bangalore, in one of them.

Patchy rain fall continued with night setting in prematurely. With the fall of night most in-mates returned and we hurdled in our room for a while to get a first preview of cine matinée that my roommate enjoyed.  We assembled over dinner table. Ritu was only missing. Superhit Muqabla, popular TV prime time event was on. We were on parallel gossips when the doorbell buzzed.

It was me once more. I stepped down to open the gate and Ritu stepped in with all composure but her face was dull. With exuberance I said – “You have a gift from Bangalore, I received it.” Her eyes lit up and she rushed towards the room.  I sensed her need for privacy and stood back by the grill. The thin stream of rain was falling on the street light casing and the feeble neon lights refracted for pulse of a second. The beauty of night had different gifts for each one of us under the same roof.

I was about to make a move that felt Ritu had put her hand on my shoulder to say – “Thank you”.

We exchanged silent glances. I didn’t ask, but she continued.

-          “Need to share a few things with you. I was about to be married to Rajiv. He is no more. Today went to meet his mother; she stays all by her own in this city.” Empathy engulfed. She continued with enough strength – “Deepak and Rajiv shared apartment in Bangalore. They were best buddies.” She took a long breath to say – “Tomorrow is my birthday. Crazy Deepak had sent few CDs that we enjoyed listening together.”

It was a long story cut crisp and short. All my curiosity and follow up guesses fizzled in the humid breeze blowing. It took me sometime to gather my thoughts and wish her on the eve of her birthday. She was a sport to have accepted that and requested me to confide the facts revealed. Her fresh start needed a new home and no sympathy.  With all assurance I joined her towards the room.

The crushed colorful wrapper was peeping out of the overflowing room bin-box. Three CDs lied on the neatly ironed bed sheet. I picked up the first one flipped to check the numbers. “Abhi Na Jao Chhod Kar, Dil Abhi Bhara Nahi”… Once more read between the lines, sorry between the choice of CDs and its songs…Prime time on idiot box was over, heard roll of laughter and varied sounds of footsteps approaching proximity. Left Ritu to settle with her ordeal and deal ahead.
 Often suffocating rainy day wash out deep down pains to give life a break. Life moves on, every turn of it you have a new tune to hum by.

Back on a Rainy Day

You guessed it correctly! After a long break it is raining today evening. As am typing can see gallons of natural water pouring on the dusty and tired lanes of my neighbourhood. Street lights are all on with occasional bizarres of the lightening followed by lousy thunders. Such evening reminds one of various memories... generally the unusual and the unimportant ones...
Fifteen years ago ( trying to be precise) one such evening in the same city of joy had to walk on the wet road from Park Street to Park Circus to board a shared taxi. This was an experience of it's own! Fear of being alone (I missed the office bus ) to cross the deserted footpath by the closed St.Xavier college.. the notorious Malikbazar crossing.. all perceptions and premonitions crowding and at the same go, joy of being able do the same - all alone, overcoming the deep down fear. Uncertainty off course was natural as getting a shared cab from the five point something ( actually it is geometrically asymmetric) remains a challenge, even today.

If you pick up a shot to check out the stretch on a sunny morning am sure you would get me wrong! It is amazing the vibrant lane could be so haunting on a rainy evening.

The next day in office was little beyond the regular consultancy ( used to work for Engg Consultancy firm) experience. My mentor was a workaholic man and usually spend his lunch hours reading letters to editor of "The Statesman" news daily. Those were my initial professional days - wanted to make the boring ambiance bit energized in my own way. Lunch hour I went gaga about the last evening - while intended to share the experience had a sense of self achievement too. Reactions were of various kind - some of pat , some of caution, some of ignorance..All while my mentor never reacted.Post lunch, my mentor left a note on my table along with the news daily . Note said - "Read the 2nd letter".

As I recall - The author had been to the city a week back. Had to make it to airport from Maniktalla - northern part of the city which was badly drowned in water due to persistent rainfall. Had made a Rs 500/- deal ( this is quantum assuming the decade am in) with a cab-guy. But unfortunately the cab had mechanical issues half way thru, at Ultadanga crossing ( considerable Kms from airport). After a few futile requests to stop plying cars a private car stopped. A gentleman rolled down the window pane. In a brisk exchange, author got to know that the car owner was heading for his home. It was stressful drive, as not much could be seen ahead and hence not much dialogue happened till they reach the airport.

- "Can I have your name and address?"

- "Why?"

-"What to thank you back , even your phone number would do?"

-"You thanked ! That is enough . "

-"Still.." - author had the sense of gratitude and really wanted to do something..

Easing his hesitation the car owner said - " Some other day in some other city render someone the same help..That would be the best return...Have a safe flight!"

I was amazed reading the letter probably more than the what author himself was post the brief communication. He went about saying - his experience as a guest in this city not only made him spellbound but he boarded the flight with an asset beyond business.

Gyan #13 - Accomplishments are more rewarding when it propagates beyond you and more.