It was a rainy day. Huge winds were blowing from the eastern direction, the windows and doors of the house were closing violently, then opening and again closing violently. Though it was 8 in the morning, the darkness was still lingering, one might have thought it was late in the evening- similar to the moment-the moments just after the sunset. The trees in the rubber-estates on both sides of the narrow tarred road, looked like gyrating violently in the wind and torrential rain, just when I pushed open the window.
Rains always bring memories of the good, old childhood days, the teenage period and now the youthful days. In my childhood, whenever there was heavy downpour, wearing shorts, I used to jump to the premises of my ancestral house, danced like a peacock, thus got drenched. My Grandmother, father,mother, uncles or aunties would- in a cajoling tone or in fits of rage order me to enter the house, they pinched me and thrashed me which was really very painful- only my grandmother just admonished me and smiled by closing her mouth with her hand, that much she was fond of me. Now she is no more, two uncles, one auntie and father all gone after completing their life’s mission and now remain painful memories. With the disintegration of the joint family system the ancestral house live in my memories only. The blood relations in the course of the passage of time got scattered to various parts of the country leading their nuclear lives.
South-West Monsoon has started. I glanced at the calendar on the wall and found, it was June 3. My good gracious!
“I am a bit lucky. Today is Sunday and hence a holiday. I can very well take rest, enjoy the music of the downpour after a long lull, memorise the incidents related to monsoon season in my village and later in Mumbai and now in another village in Kerala, read fictions or newspapers”. – I told myself.
If it was a working day I would have to proceed early in the morning to my working place, though umbrella could be called a protective cover actually it would not be of much use in the torrential rain and lashing winds. I would have got drenched like anything.
The newscaster in the TV, Suhasini a familiar face middle-aged good-looking lady in the course of the newscast had informed the viewers, particularly fishermen who venture into the sea for fishing to refrain from doing so with the winds lashing across coastal areas between 55-65 miles per hour on account of the onset of South-West monsoon, the other day evening at certain parts of Kerala.
This rain reminds me of my first love-bird, Anu Varma in Mumbai. Anu is still in Mumbai , now leading a married life at Kandivili in the Western Railway with her husband and two pretty children- one boy, the other girl- two pretty little dolls. During occasional visits to Mumbai, I use to meet her, I don’t know whether it is a sin, we used to indulge in our romantic moments and recalled our early period of romance, even the first time we met each other and fell in love at first sight. In a city like Mumbai, it is very difficult to espy such love-birds from the secret rendezvous and ecstatic moments.
I recall that day. In the twilight sun at the Borivili National Park with golden rays peeping through the gaps between the trees while we were locked in an embrace under a tree- there are many such love-birds here and there enjoying their beautiful moments-all of a sudden as if from a bolt from the blue, a heavy down-pour, lasting more than two hours, both of us still in embrace planting kisses and with our cloths getting wet and drops of rain making us hilarious and ecstatic, oblivious of the surroundings, sat there with my head in her lap…
The first romance in the rain. An unforgettable experience.
During that period we used to visit parks, beaches like Juhu, Madh Island, Marine Drive, Gateway and film theatres like New Excelesior, Metro, Liberty and Eros. While Kamal Hassan- Rati Agni Hotri fame- ‘Ek Tuje Kelie’ (Made For Each Other) was running in packed houses, both of us enjoyed the film several times and that famous duet by Anuradha Poduval and S P Balasubramaniam was our favourite song of the period…
“Between you and me
How comes this hurdle
Don’t know dear…don’t know dear”!
During the hot scenes in the film, it was a pleasure and excitement to me to plant hot kisses on the back of her neck. She was somewhat in an inebriated state with her body in a shivering state and also with tickling in ecstasy.
At certain moments when both of us were together our imagination took wings and flew to Taj Mahal at Agra, the monument of eternal love sculpted in marble, walking with hand in hand like the legendary Shajahan and Mumtaz in the moonlit nights among the other lovers and couples moving around with excitement and also taking photographs in front of Taj Mahal with our hands around our waists.
The decision to remain unmarried was a good decision, otherwise our sweet memories romantic moments would not have lasted for long and I am sure, those moments would remain with us throughout this life.
−Where is Pinky now? Might be abroad in a nurse’s uniform making money. Whether her marriage is over? No idea. Her courage at that age was something unimaginable and my embarrassment, both in the teens.
Monsoon brings the memories of that day also. Quite natural. No?
It was 7 past thirty in the night. Usually our tuition ended only at 8 ‘O’ clock. That day, the master and both of us disciples could hear the echoes of thunder once in a while with lightning preceding.
“Today you may go early. It seems a rain is in the offing. Cold wind is also blowing, reach your homes at the earliest”- Master advised us.
I had umbrella with me. Where ever I had gone, I used to carry an umbrella, whether in Summer or in Winter. I was an ardent devotee of God and went to temple daily. Sandal paste was always there on my forehead. A typical orthodox, obedient Nair boy liked by all. Pinky was also an ardent devotee of Jesus Christ and used to go to church on every Sunday to attend the ‘Holy Communion’. She was studious also, while passing through the front of her house in my cycle, she was always seen with a book reading aloud. By rote.
While walking down the road under the street lights to our houses, to my shock- it was quite unexpected- the lights went out and it was quite dark and the rain and thunder showers began within seconds.
“Pinky, have this umbrella. Don’t get wet”- I was holding the handle of the cycle.
“No, no you also don’t get drenched. This is your property”- She was giggling.
She came to my side with the umbrella and protected me also from rains, her one hand was around my waist. I was deeply embarrassed and felt like running away. I was very shy during my teens.
Then came another shock. An unexpected kiss on my cheek by Pinky. My heart beats were audible to me. It was like the sounds of beating drums.
“Pinky, are you mad? This is a grave sin”. I murmured to her with my eyes bulging with fear.
She seemed not to hear me. Warm kisses on my entire cheeks with passion and excitement.
“I love you my cute friend. I love you like anything”
I wanted to cry. I was quite afraid. The first kiss by my girl friend…At that young age it was a harrowing experience to me and you know I am a quite different young man.
Up till now,a secret kept by us. Pinky,where are you now?...
The rain and wind all stopped. Opened the door and came outside. It was drizzling.
I saw a young boy in his teens, clad in a black pants and a full-sleeved baniyan, he was carrying in a plastic cover various pictures. On seeing me, he came in my direction. I was watching him curiously.
“Pictures Sir, beautiful pictures. You like pictures”?- he was inquisitively casting a glance at me. The innocence in his eyes touched me. The period of innocence in my life came back to my mind.
“My little friend, this is a rented house. For a man who is living in a rented house, what is the need of picture? Not much pleasure in it”- I bared my heart out.
He was spreading the pictures on the floor of the portico. Attractive beautiful landscapes with splashing streams sparkling lakes and verdant hills, Mahatma Gandhi, Vivekananda, Huge Mountains, Indira Gandhi, Gateway of India, Statue of Liberty, A beautiful house with a car-porch with a car parked there and a young man leaning over it…endless numbers of beautiful pictures…
“Okay, do one thing, you select one. Whichever you like”- I gave him the freedom to select a picture.
He glanced at me with a smiling face, and the same innocent eyes.
Within a second he selected the picture of the beautiful house. He took it and handed over to me. I felt both joy and sadness. He had read the mind of the man without a house of his own and also the aspirations and dreams…perhaps his also…
With a warm smile I gave him the price. My heart went out for him. Cute little chap. He collected all other pictures and placed them in the plastic cover and waved his hands. I was watching him walking to the road in front and slowly disappearing from my eyes. It was still drizzling.
The feeling of a proud man with a beautiful house of his! I felt elated.
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