Monsoon diaries

I remember the times we used to walk along Marine Drive singing Billy Joel and BeeGees, hand in hand. You would suddenly point out to a girl jogging in her shorts and tell me how hot she looks. It wouldn't matter even in the least to me, I knew you were mine. Yet I would act annoyed. You would make your typical mocking face and say "But you are the hottest of them all, darling". I would slap your hand and we would continue on our way.

All those nooks and corners of the road would know our stories cuz that is where we would discuss our hopes, our dreams and even our fears. Fear that this joy would not be for an eternity. That is when you would assure me, the time to enjoy is now, we can take one step at a time. Those demons would be assuaged for a day.

You would take me to all these lovely places to eat maska bun and chai. I find it so perfect during the rainy season. Those typical parsi uncles. We both would be soaking wet and have windcheaters sticking to our body and yet, we would sit on the same side of the table. I would take the first sip of that piping hot tea and close my eyes in oblivion. Open them only to find you looking at me, enjoying that serenity.

All those auto rickshaw rides, I wonder how the drivers managed to drive without actually being distracted. It was so exhilarating. I am so not the kind to attempt something like that. Yet you somehow made it feel all right. And for the first time in my life, I didn't care about what the second person thought about us. Did it really matter anymore?

Those typical things we did. Like not hanging up on the phone first. Just listening to each other breathe without needing to say a word. Grinning like idiots for no reason ever. Laughing at the cheesiest lines we could come up with. The hugs that made everything in the world feel alright.

These rains. They bring back all those long lost memories. Emotions I didn't even know existed. Funny that they surface at the very hint of a cloudy sky and the cool breeze across my face.

But then I look again. You are walking towards me with a 8 year-old girl sitting on your shoulder, animatedly talking to the woman who is walking beside you, just the way I remember you. A few grey hairs that you refuse to acknowledge, very non-flattering spectacles, otherwise just the same. 

Before I can even finish thinking, you reach upto me and kiss me, giving me that mischievous look I've always fallen for. Our daughter is excitedly showing me the drawings that she made. You see that I want to talk to your sister and you drag our cutiepie away to yet another wonderful world of hers.

Just the way you showed me mine. Those fears that never needed to exist. Some fairy tales do come true, don't they?

(P.S. This writing style is totally inspired from Anjana Iyer . And what more can I say about the rainy season. Inspires the rusty writer to pick her pen and go whooshing across the paper. )