It was not supposed to rain. It was summer. She was not supposed to fall in love. She was practical. She hated the rains. People did not believe her when she told them so. Typically, girls were supposed to love rains. But she was different. She always believed she was different. Life … fate … whatever you call it, proved her wrong. Her concept about love, the theory she always kept repeating to herself was ruined by a practical experience. It took seven days for her to finally believe that she was in love. Unbelievable, her friends said. She was in love, she knew. Now, she loved rains.
New job. The training. Her focus was clear. He was a trainee, just like her. The first time she saw him, he smiled. She turned her head. He kept staring at her throughout the training, she knew because she was observing him from the corner of her eyes. Back home, his blurred image crossed her mind as she opened the refrigerator to drink water. It was erased by the time she drank water and closed the refrigerator.
He entered the room at the same time she entered. Their arms brushed against each other for the first time. He looked at her and smiled. She turned away her head and walked to the farthest corner from where he was seated. He stared at her. She knew. Back home, as she entered through the main door, she remembered his arm brushing against hers. By the time she closed the door and entered the security code, he was out of her mind.
He was seated in the room before she went in. He was sitting in the front row. A few seats next to him were empty. He looked at her but did not smile. She sat a few chairs away from him. She looked at him, he turned his head. She frowned. Back at home, the back of his head taunted her. She thought the image would disappear when she sleeps. That night, she could not sleep.
She entered the room, searched for him. He was not there. She sat in the first row. The training started. She concentrated. His thoughts were temporarily out of her mind but her eyes darted towards the door whenever she saw movement outside. Back home, she thought of him as she drank water, prepared notes, made her dinner and also as she lay in bed. She did not know when she slept. He smiled. She smiled. It felt good. She opened her eyes, he was not there. She was dreaming. She wanted to dream again. She had a dreamless sleep.
He missed the training again. She could not concentrate. She let her voice recorder take notes as she wondered why he missed the training. Was he not as ambitious as she was? Was he sick or did he meet with an accident? She sat in the empty room after the training was over. She wondered. Where he was? What was happening to her? Why did his absence bother her so much? Back home, she tried not to think of him. She failed. After a couple of hours she picked up the phone and dialed a number. The number she had managed to take from the clerk who kept records of the trainees. The phone rang, she waited. She heard a recorded message and a beep. She disconnected the call and cursed herself for dialing the number. That night, she held the cordless in her hand as she slept on the couch. She waited for call back. The call did not come.
She was too tired to get up. Her body ached from sleeping on the couch. Going for training seemed like climbing a mountain. Was she getting less ambitious? Was this what the guy was doing to her? Distracting her? She pushed herself out of the house. She was ambitious. She did not really need the job but she wanted to do it anyways. She reached the training center and scanned the crowd for a familiar face, without really knowing that she was looking for him. The training was boring. She put her voice recorder into action and almost dozed off during the training. She saw him. He saw her but did not smile. It hurt. But at least she saw him. Dream, that’s what it is, she told herself. Suddenly, there was movement around her. The training was over. She looked towards the door, he was still there. She stared at him and he stared back at her. She smiled. He smiled. It felt good. She walked out of the room along with other trainees. He joined her in the crowd. At the main door she looked around. He was not there. She felt sad. Back home, she stared out of the window for a long time. Saw him standing outside the training hall. Cursed herself for not holding his hand and allowing him to disappear into the crowd. Something weird was happening to her, within her. Her entire body radiated heat when she thought of him. She looked at herself in the mirror. A funny smile stuck on her face. She went to bed, smiling. She slept. She dreamt of him.
He was in the room before she entered. He smiled. She smiled. It felt good. He had reserved a seat for her. She sat next to him. They held hands throughout the training. Voice recorder into action again, her own mind tangled between feeling his eyes over her body, feeling his hand holding hers and counting her heartbeat. His touch gave rise to an electric current which ran through her body and her face glowed. She tightened her grip. The voice recorder stopped recording because of battery exhaustion. After the training they walked together towards her house. They talked. They walked. He stopped walking abruptly and then said something which did not register in her brain because before it could, he kissed her on the lips. A bold move, she admitted. She hated his guts. She liked the kiss. She kissed back. It rained.
When she told her friends about him they did not believe her until she introduced him. She held his arm, proud to be by his side. He was a part of her life. A few friends teased her, a few friends warned her. It’s not love, they said. It is, she knew. Every time they kissed, she loved him more. She was ready for the next step. He was not. He loved her he said, but he was not ready. He wanted to achieve lots in his life before commitment. She was angry. She cried. He kissed her. She went into his arms and cried more. They spent the night in each other’s arms. When she opened her eyes she was alone on the couch. She smelled coffee. She smiled and walked to the kitchen. Saw him making a sandwich. She fell in love all over again. He turned around to find her staring at him. He walked closer. She kissed him till he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed back. They walked towards the bedroom. Coffee and sandwich could wait. He was ready. They took the next step. As she lay in bed, her head resting on his chest, he asked her to marry him. She looked up and smiled. He tightened his arms around her and kissed her forehead. Then she listened to his heartbeat. He loved her.
It was a bright sunny day. She woke up early. She was excited. They were getting married. He wanted to spend the night at her house but she said it was considered a bad omen. She sent him home. Her cell phone beeped. She read the text and smiled. She got ready and rushed out of the house, calling her friends on the way. They were supposed to sign as witnesses. None of her friends attended her call. She reached the court. Searched for him. Searched for her friends. They were not there. She called them again. None answered. She called him. His friend attended the call. She dropped her cell phone and called for a cab. It was late when she reached. They did not get married that day. They could never get married. It took seven days for her to fall in love with him, it look a lot less time for him to leave her alone forever. He had always been a late riser, she knew. He got up late even on the wedding day. He sent her an I Love You text and hurried out of the house. He never waited for the green man to cross the street. She always scolded him. He smiled as he remembered her scolding. He waited for the green man. Looked at the watch. He was getting late. His friend waved from the other side of the road. Rules be followed on some other day, he told himself. He crossed before the green man showed. He visualized her scolding him just as a speeding car hit him and threw him over to the side of the road he wanted to reach only to be hit again by a truck. He saw her face for the last time.
It was a bright sunny day. She was meant to be practical. She waited for it to rain, rain heavily to camouflage her tears as she cried and cried for hours over his grave. But, it did not rain. She had started to love rains. She had learned to love.