That kiss in the Rain!

Ragini stood near the French window of her apartment. Her bright eyes were fixed on the droplets falling on her window.  The dark clouds complimented the sound of the rain making it beautiful. It was already 12 noon on Sunday but it looked like evening.

Ragini didn’t feel like moving away from the window. That’s the magic of Mumbai rains- they mesmerize you.

 “Ma, give me another coffee,” Ragini said, her gaze still fixed at the rain drops.

“This is your third coffee in the last one hour. Finish this and get out of that pajama. Don’t get me started!” Her mother yelled and pushed the coffee mug in her hand.

“Ma, but I don’t want to go…” She pleaded.

Her mother’s gaze told her that she mustn’t argue. All she needed then was some warmth. If not from her mother, the hot coffee helped. She cupped the coffee mug and her hands felt warm. Her head leaned against the wall as she sat near the French window.

‘You are still sitting here!! Ragini, get a life and move on!!”

A few more droplets fell, this time it wasn’t the rain, “I can’t ma, I can’t forget him! Why did he do this with me?”

Her mother felt sad for her. She sat next to her and said, “You were not meant to be together. Destiny has its own plan. It will bring you together if that is what is meant to be, but don’t hold yourself back.”

Sahil and Ragini were childhood friends. It was in the 9^th standard that Sahil proposed to her, on a beautiful rainy day. She didn’t think twice and immediately accepted. After finishing their graduation, they told their parents about each other. Sahil got placed with a leading car manufacturing company, based in Detroit after his post-graduation. He left for Detroit 3 years back. Ragini was secure in their relationship, and why not? They had been together for 8 years and their parents knew about them. 

Probably Sahil didn’t think like that. Last he called her was a year back when he broke up with her over a phone call. He told her that he had married someone there.

“May be you are right, Ma. I will do this for you.” Ragini said as she relived the last 11 years.

She wiped her tears and headed to her room.

**********************

Ragini looked pretty in her blue denim and a baby pink top. Her matching pink earrings completed her look. She combed her hair and tied them in a ponytail.

You look beautiful with your hair open. Sahil used to tell her and she untied her hair.

The rain wasn’t stopping and Ragini didn’t want to drive in that weather. Mumbai rains were unpredictable and so she thought of booking a cab. The fares were quite high and she booked a shared cab.

The cab was there in the next 5 minutes and she hopped in.

“Yes, Band stand.” She confirmed.

Hi Rohan, I shall be there in about an hour. See you. She texted.

Beep. Beep. The navigation instrument beeped.

“Kya hua?”

“Share sawari hai madam.”

About 7 minutes later the cab reached the share passenger’s pick-up area. The passenger got into the back seat of the cab and looked at Ragini. He immediately got out and moved to the front seat, next to the driver.

 “Lilavati Hospital.” He confirmed to the cab driver.

Ragini felt uneasy in her stomach. Why does this man sound like Sahil? No, this can’t be Sahil. He doesn’t look anywhere close to him. In fact, this isn’t Sahil’s apartment. Sahil won’t wear this cap, he hates it. He is so lean, again unlike Sahil.

She checked the app for the name of the shared passenger and it said- Sahil.

“Sahil…” she murmured.

He immediately turned and their eyes locked. Yes, it was him.

“Hi, Ragini..h-how are you doing?” He stammered to get the courage to speak to her.

Ragini was speechless. He can’t change so much in 3 years. Her eyes were full but she didn’t let her tears drop, especially in front of him. She didn’t want to show him, how weak she felt.

She breathed heavily and responded, “I..I am great. How are you? And.. and.. your wife?”

He smiled and said, “Great. Where are you off to? I know you love rains, but only from your window.”

“I am meeting someone and if things go fine, we’ll get married.” She responded confidently.

Sahil forced a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“When did you come back? Who is in the hospital? You look so weak, what have you done to yourself? And this cap- since when did you start liking it……”

“Whoaa… one by one.. Rags..I mean Ragini.. I am in good shape and this cap is the in-thing, doesn’t it look cool? I.. I moved here..umm.. a year back with my wife. Well... She is in the hospital, we are becoming parents.”

She sunk in her seat. This was the last nail in the coffin. She couldn’t respond. She kept looking at the rain and they reached Lilavati hospital.

“Ragini, you deserve the best, maybe I wasn’t the one for you.” He bid her goodbye and the cab started again.

He has moved on, nothing is remaining within him. He has moved on.

She SMSed Rohan- Stuck in traffic; looks difficult to meet today. She reached Band stand 15 minutes later. She got out of the cab and chose not to open her umbrella. The rain drops felt soothing, as though they were healing her wounds. She sat on a high rock as the tides washed her feet. She was drenched by now.

To her right, she saw a teenage couple under the umbrella. She smiled as she recalled Sahil and her first date as teenagers at band stand. It was raining then and it is raining today, only Sahil is with someone else.

She still didn’t want to believe that Sahil was with someone else. No, he can’t be. Our love was not that weak.

She got up and looked for an auto.

“Lilavati!” She said as she jumped into the auto.

********************

She reached Lilavati Hospital in the next 15 minutes. Stupid me, I don’t even know his wife’s name. But, I need to see her and get closure on this.

At the reception, she asked,” I am looking for a lady who is due anytime now.”

The receptionist gave her the worst look.

“Ok, I know there would be many women like that. Hmm… am looking for Sahil Kapoor’s wife, if that helps.” She wasn’t sure if this will help either.

“Sahil Kapoor … Sahil Kapoor.. yeah.. room no 507, but that’s not his wife. He has admitted himself. He just got admitted.” The receptionist responded.

Ragini was shocked, “W..what are you saying? W..what happened to him?”

“Cancer patient, he has been coming regularly for treatment.”

Ragini was numb.

She got answers to all her questions she asked him in the cab. Now, her tears would not stop. He wanted her to hate him as he knew he had a short time on hand.

“I need to meet him!” Ragini said urgently.

“Ragini.. What are you doing here? Why are you drenched?” It was Sahil’s mom, holding some papers.

Ragini ran and hugged her tight, she cried like a child, “Aunty, why didn’t you tell me? All this while, he wanted me to hate him, to forget him.”

She caressed her and said,” Doctors say that he has just a few months with him. What can be worse than this? Take this attendant pass, go meet him.” Her wet eyes screamed of a mother’s pain and fear of losing her son.

She ran and figured her way to room 507. The door was closed. Her heart was heavy and eyes were wet. She opened the door…

Sahil saw Ragini standing there, not trying to hold back her tears this time.

“Ragini…. I …”

She hugged him and said, “I am here now and things will only get better. Destiny wanted us to be together!”

“Why are you here Rags? You.. you have your whole life in front of you. I..I.. don’t even have a few months.” Sahil turned and looked at the rain drops out of the window.

“Sahil, I want to live my entire life with you in whatever time we have. Will you marry me?” Ragini took his hand in hers.

He cried like a child. His tears expressed his heart’s desires. Ragini wanted to make their wedding special. She kissed his forehead and told him that she will be back soon. She stepped out and called her mother, “Ma, you were right. Destiny has its own plans. I am coming home. We have a lot of work to do.”

A week later, Sahil got discharged after a few sessions of chemotherapy. Ragini was wearing a white gown as she came to receive him.  She handed him a suit to change into. She took him to band stand instead of his home. There were at least 50 more people over there, some friends and some family. They exchanged vows where they had their first date 11 years back.

It started raining and people started rushing not wanting to get wet. Ragini and Sahil stood there and kissed as Man and wife.

The rain sealed their wedding as everyone looked happily at them.

Conflict- A poem

A hundred thoughts in my mind,

All muddled up in a way.

I ask myself, 'why is that so?'

There is nothing I can say.

I look in the mirror, and see myself,

Then the silent tears in my eyes.

I stare some more, and then they fall,

I wish I had been wise.

Some call it sin, its love for some,

Growing within me, my life.

They call me names and give me stares,

For I am not a wife.

He’s not at fault, for he's a man,

You woman, don’t ruin your life.

But I choose you, oh my little one,

And now there is no strife.

To peace, harmony and friendship- A vacation that was much more!

“Travelling; it leaves you speechless, then turns you into a storyteller.”

-          Ibn Battuta

Travel is one big inspiration for Artists, Storytellers and Poets. They tell stories through their art and words. Such is the case with me; Travel gives me experiences and hence, words. The traveller in me is always restless to see cultures and beauty of the world.

Last year, in an impromptu discussion with two of my friends, we firmed up a short 4-day vacation to Pondicherry and Auroville, which gave us much more than a few days of break from work.

We knew a bit about Pondicherry; The French East India Company had established it as their headquarters in 1674. A little more research told us that Pondicherry still carried the French flavour very strongly in its architecture, churches, hotels, beaches, restaurants and even street names. We booked our tickets, then the hotel, packed our bags and set off for this much awaited trip on 15^th August 2015.

Day 1 and 2: Pondicherry

We landed at Chennai Airport at 9 30am. This is the closest airport to Pondicherry, about 170km via one of the most beautiful routes in India- the East Coast Road.

We reached Pondicherry at around 2pm, checked into our Hotel and had lunch at Café Xtasy. We went to Sri Aurobindo Ashram after that; it was serene and peaceful.  In the evening, we gorged on the fresh handmade pasta at Le Dupleix- a popular French restaurant.

We started early the next day and rented cycles from the main market. We headed to Sri Aurobindo Paper Mill. They showed us the way paper is made using cotton rags, followed by a tour of their shopping store. We ended up shopping for stationary from there and then some more shopping for jewellery, ceramics, incense etc. from the main market. Cycling on a sunny day here can be quite draining, quick tip- carry water in your back pack and stop over at Gelatos for a quick ice-cream bite J

We had lunch at Villa Shanti- an Indo-French hotel that mesmerised us with its white and yellow walls. After this, we visited the botanical garden, the Museum and other places. We had dinner at the rooftop restaurant of The Promenade Hotel- the excellent food and the view sealed the day.

Day 3 and 4: Auroville

We booked a cab and reached Auroville, which is 8km from Pondicherry. This alluring place, founded in 1968 and named after Sri Aurobindo is home to 2500 people from over 53 countries.

One of the standees at the information centre shared the message from ‘The Mother’ which told us all about Auroville!

We reached the middle of Auroville and saw ‘The Matrimandir’, which is the place to find peace. The interiors of Matrimandir were all white and pious. You should book this at least three days before your visit to secure a place in the meditation session.

Aurovillians conduct activities such as yoga, meditation, art, music, cultural activities, and workshops. This is how they earn, get to know others and share their knowledge with each other. The information centre and pin-boards at various locations gave us the schedule for these. We visited the main shopping centre which displayed cotton clothes, handmade stationary and other beautiful things made by women at a local NGO. These are priced a little higher than the main market at Pondicherry, but it had a well curated collection.

Later, we grabbed a quick bite at one of the many food options here. We spent some time at the Savitri Bhavan which displayed beautiful paintings and offered a reading room.

There are a few home-stay options here- you can choose one to experience how Aurovillians live. People stay in beautiful wooden huts here. Many of them quit their high paying jobs to reside here and serve humanity. 

The next morning, we attended a workshop called ‘Leela: The Game of Life’, conducted by a Spanish resident of Auroville. The venue was a beautiful hut- butterfly barn. It was an interesting game with Snakes and ladders; a positive quality takes you up the ladder, while a negative one will pull you down via the snake. The dice decides your journey in life and we learnt a lot about ourselves through that game.

We bid goodbye to Auroville in the afternoon to catch our flight back home. It was a short vacation but a strong one. Not only did it strengthen our friendship, it gave us the most beautiful experience of being at Auroville and lessons of selflessness.

It wasn't my fault!

The crescent of the moon looked beautiful, hidden behind the clouds. It was a breezy night, the roads were quiet. Mumbai looked different at 3 am- calm. But, there was some uneasiness; Rashmi was awake. Her brown eyes looked tired but they wouldn’t sleep. She didn’t want ‘the dream’ to haunt her again.

Gasping for breath she sat on the bed and wiped the sweat from her forehead.  Her puffy eyes checked the other side of the bed; it was vacant. It was her decision to stay alone, but sometimes she wished someone could hold her.

She got into her chappals and went to the bathroom.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaa!!” She screamed as she switched on the light.

It took her a few seconds to realise that it was her own frightened self in the mirror. The splash of water on her face was invigorating. She tied her loose brown curls into a bun and went to the kitchen.

Rashmi made a quick cup of coffee and went to her favourite place in her apartment, her balcony. The cold breeze and the hot coffee were comforting.

It was 3: 30 am, flashed her phone as she picked it. She dialled a number and disconnected it hastily. Her fingers trembled; they wanted to dial the number again, while her mind told her not to. She chose the latter like always and put her phone aside. Sleep was gradually taking over her but she wouldn’t sleep yet.

She got her diary and a pen from her room and sat on the bean bag.

“It wasn’t my fault! It wasn’t my fault! I was just 14……” the pen carved as she slept under the cloudy sky.

----------                

The alarm on her phone beeped loudly at 7 15 am. Rashmi put it off and slept again.  Her phone rang at 9 am; she jumped off the bean bag.

“I.. I am on my way, just reaching, please cover up for me.” It was her annual appraisal and she was late. She was ready in the next 10 minutes and reached office in another 20.

The Head of Marketing of Purple Creations, Mr Makhija was furious. At 55, he was the senior most in the office. He was snobbish with women and Rashmi didn’t like it. Only last week he infuriated her; he believed the clients were happy because she was a woman. Today she was at fault but couldn’t explain the last night to Mr Makhija.

Rashmi gasped for breathe as she rushed to Mr Makhija’s cabin. She adjusted her skirt and tied her hair neatly as she entered. She apologised for the delay but Mr Makhija frowned, his angry eyes greeted her, “The appraisal is over!”

“But, Mr Makhija…”

A visibly annoyed Mr Makhija continued, “Is this how you dress for work?”

She was numb.

 “This is not how you dress Rashmi, wear your denim with a loose top. Don’t invite attention, you are a girl.” She could hear her mother speaking to a 14-year-old Rashmi.

She retaliated a few seconds later, “Why don’t you teach me?”

She wouldn’t leave without speaking her mind today and continued, “What bothers you, the length of my skirt or your eyes that keep wandering where they shouldn’t?   5 years and my clothes speak more than my work. Before you tell me to leave, I am going to clear my desk!” An overwhelmed Rashmi banged the door as she left.

Mr Makhija was flabbergasted. He was never spoken to like this. A 28-year-old woman had insulted him. WOMAN! How could a woman insult him? He could see Sagar at the door when Rashmi left his cabin. Mr Makhija felt ridiculed and must do something about it.

“Sagar!!” he yelled.

Sagar had been in Mr Makhija’s team for 10 years. He was the one who brought Rashmi on board and knew she was the best performer in his team. His empathetic eyes followed her.  Just then Mr Makhija screamed his lungs out, “Sagar!!! You hired this one! I had always told you women like her are a misfit. Did you hear what she said?”

“I will be right back Mr Makhija.” Sagar hurried, agitating him even more.

He ran up to Rashmi and asked her, “Need some help with packing your stuff?”

Rashmi was upset; she had expected him to stand by her. This could not have been her reward for the sleepless nights she had given to this company. She had created the best advertising solutions for their clients. Her first tear dropped and the rest followed in an unbroken stream.

Sagar looked into her wet brown eyes and told her, “You are really strong Rashmi. You were right, it wasn’t your fault.”

“It wasn’t my fault mom, it wasn’t my fault…” Rashmi could see her 14-year-old self, pleading.

“Guess what, you are not leaving alone, I am coming with you.” Sagar winked.

She was in dithers. “But.. Sagar…Saaagar…” she called as he ran to Mr Makhija’s cabin.

“Mr Makhija, Sorry, I had to speak to Rashmi.” Sagar breathed heavily.

“Just take her resignation and tell her to leave as soon as possible. I don’t want to see her in my office!! Women like her….” Mr Makhija was shivering with anger.

“Sir, WE are leaving.” He cut him as he spoke.

“Whattttt? Have you gone out of your mind? After 10 years here you should know where you belong. Don’t you know you are due for a promotion?” Mr Makhija sounded a little nervous and defeated.

“Thanks for the experience Mr Makhija; I know where I belong. I should have known that much earlier.” Sagar banged the door of his cabin as he left.

After a few hours of paper work Sagar and Rashmi left the premises of Purple Creations, forever.

----------

It had been an eventful day. Rashmi was tired and quiet. Sagar offered to drop her home as he started his car.

“I told you to stay away from men, you are a girl.” She heard her mother scolding 14 year old Rashmi.

“Helllloooo!! Sagar waved at her. She nodded and got into the car. 

“Umm… would you like to have something?” She asked him nervously as they reached her society gate. He agreed and accompanied her. This was the first time Sagar was visiting her place.

He was stunned with the beautiful earthen pots placed at the entrance. He picked one as Rashmi opened the door.

She smiled and said, “I paint these pots and wall hangings over the weekend. The next time you come over, you will see some more of these.”

She kept her carton on one of the corners and went into the kitchen to make some instant noodles and coffee for them.

Sagar was awestruck; She had done up her house really well. The vibrant wall hangings that she had painted herself, the cushions and the curtains added colour to her beige and walnut coloured living room.

He walked along the wall and there were numerous photo frames at the corner. Each captured Rashmi with one or two more people.

“Is that you Rashmi? How old are you in this- 14 or 15? And is this your mom?”

“It wasn’t my fault mom, it wasn’t…” the 14-year-old Rashmi pleaded in her mind.

 “Careful! Sagar rushed in to simmer the stove.

“Oh, sorry. I..I..” Rashmi’s voice cracked.

 “It’s OK you sleepy one. You look such a kid in that pic, your mom looks beautiful.”

Rashmi forced a smile and headed out of the kitchen with the coffee mugs. Sagar followed her with the bowl of noodles. She lay the plates and forks on the table and Sagar dug into the couch comfortably. She sat next to him and poured him some coffee.

“I think we can start our own agency. Would you like to be my partner?” Sagar suggested as he sipped his coffee.

Rashmi felt elated. Sagar had been a good boss, but today she knew he trusted her too. She nodded in affirmation as she sipped her coffee.

“We have experience and we know the clients. But, it will come with some adjustment- no salary for a few months, may be years.”

That wasn’t a concern for her; she had her savings to take care of that.

He added, “You can save this rent too, your parents stay in Mumbai only no?”

“Noo!!” She was anxious. Sagar noticed this. She was quick to add, “I mean, I am so used to staying alone, I can’t stay with anyone now.” Rashmi was sweating.

“Are you ok? It isn’t that hot, why are you sweating?” Sagar was worried.

“No. Nothing, I think I need some fresh air.” She rushed to the balcony and lit a cigarette. Sagar was confused, something was odd, but he couldn’t figure what it was.

“I am sorry Rashmi, it’s been so many years, please come home.” Rashmi heard her mother again.

The sun wasn’t down, but it was pleasant. Sagar followed her to the balcony. She lit another cigarette; he took that from her and extinguished it. Sagar’s inquisitive eyes met her frightened ones. None of them spoke for a while, but there were words in their silence. Sagar knew there was something that was troubling her, but she didn’t speak at all.

“I will see you tomorrow then, day one for us.” Sagar patted her shoulder. Rashmi smiled and looked at the busy streets of Mumbai as Sagar went for the door.

Just as he turned, he saw her diary. He opened it and read, “It wasn’t my fault! It wasn’t my fault! I was just 14……”

What could this mean? He flipped a few pages and read, “I can’t forgive you, mom. I will never come back…”

He flipped some more pages and read, “I hate you! You can’t haunt me. How could he do this to me? He calls himself my father. I was just 14. I was growing mom and it wasn’t my fault. I was not dressed right and papa could do ‘that’ to me. Once, twice… so many times…You were my mother and you told me it was my fault. How could you blame me, mom?  It wasn’t my fault mom, it wasn’t...”

Rashmi snatched the diary from him. She was exasperated, shivering as she spoke, “How dare you?? Get out of here Sagar! It wasn’t my fault; I was just 14.” She broke down like a child.

Sagar was appalled; he had never expected a father to molest his own daughter. Rashmi had been dealing with this trauma since 14 years. He felt sorry for her, for every woman who faced this.

Sagar did something he had never done before. He hugged her as she wept in his arms. He caressed her and said, “It wasn’t your fault Rashmi, it wasn’t your fault.” In that moment a new friendship developed for life.

Sagar had to help Rashmi, she didn’t deserve this pain. He looked for helpline numbers and talked to people. He finally spoke to a therapist, Mrs Kapoor and started with the first step. He next spoke to the police officer and informed them about Rashmi’s trauma.

Rashmi needed to come out of the trouble- it wasn’t her fault.