Of all the seasons, she particularly had a liking for the monsoons.
As she sat there, looking to the world through the open elegance of her windows, she realized how time virtually flew. The light drizzle came with the message- Gods’ first tears of the season was coming down.
The first rain was always special. The appetite of the dead, dry soil would be quenched by those little life-giving drops of water. The fragrance accompanying the first rains, all those zoological phylae getting active, those ‘sweet’ hummings of the odd little cricket- all added a particular charm to the debutant.
Her mind rewound. It was twenty odd years ago. She used to dash out of her home when rains came by. Her mother used to chase her. She remembered her commitment to protect her colourful umbrella from getting wet. And by the time her mother caught up with her, she used to be happily drenched.
As time travelled faster than she did, those ‘qualities’ disappeared. Childhood pranks!
“ Nirmala ! ! Nirmala….. ”
She was stirred back to reality by repeated calls from her mother. Slowly, taking a deep breath, she moved to the verandah.
As she reached the verandah, she saw her mother rubbing her little daughter’s head with the tip of her sari. She saw, her daughter was all wet.
As she unpacked her daughter’s school bag, she saw a dry little umbrella.
From the corner of her eyes, Nirmala saw her mother fighting off her tears……