Reading Time: 2 minutes
Dr Shalini’s prose poem, vividly captures a night of rain and urban adventure, exploring themes of friendship, resilience, and joy, exclusively for Different Truths.
Through torrential rain, I ventured out to meet a friend, underestimated by the gentle downpour that later threatened to submerge the city. While savouring Biryani, Dal tadka with Chapati and Curd, we exhilaratingly talked about music to literature, Bandni and Lehriya of the North to Silk of the South, sarees to formals, jhumkas to necklaces, extending it to family, relatives, and dreams, and forgot that rain was showing its color to Pink City. Ritual of last minute, sweetheart Selfies even made us completely lost and carefree about outside weather.
The roads, and rowdy rivers, stretched out before me like a dare while coming back home. Traffic jams, a tangled mess of braces and hindrance, held my body captive, yet my soul was free. Water, a relentless foe, according to my autowalah, lapped at the auto’s wheels, frightening to gulp us both.
Although I felt alive amidst the tempest, the thrill was coursing through my veins like the rush of adrenaline. A dose of happiness with a splash of water, though mosquitoes and the tiny winged demons were sucking my sweet blood, dancing and feasting on my skin, yet the tryst with a friend was worth it.
On the other hand, I could feel the pain of autowalah, as the auto, a fragile vessel, was battling hard with its engine sputtering, dying, and reviving like Hamlet, to do or not to do. Meanwhile, a truck with an impatient driver and a bus crossed us spewing dirty water to soak our respect but in that dark hour, it was a different kind of sovereignty that made me laugh wild, matching the thunder in the sky.
For in that moment, when the auto, a recalcitrant beast, refused to be back to life and my family and friend worried with fears, waiting for me to reach home, I, the thrill-seeker, felt unshackled from the monotony of life. The rain was like music to me, and the flooded roads added more to it.
Finally, I reached home, bedraggled, exhausted, and rejuvenated after the adventurous journey. My daughter enveloped me in a warm embrace, but I just smiled, for I knew that I had lived, truly lived in that moment. And as I slept, my heart knew that I had fulfilled a deep longing, scratched an itch, and checked off an item on the bucket list of my soul. Blissfully I slumbered, the pitter-patter of rain, a gentle lullaby, reaching my ears from the window, serenading me into that late hour of the night.
Picture design, Anumita Roy
