What happens when the Sun falls in love with the grey clouds? A Rainbow.
She smiled, staring up at the small arc of colours in the grayscale skyline.
“What is that?” an eager child on the road was pointing at the sky. Her mother smiled.
“God’s paint palette.”
She smiled at the sight. Once, a five-year-old, much eager than this one, had asked the same of her
mother.
Years have passed by. And the rainbow remained an eager mind’s wonder, forever.
They have, however, reduced over the years, due to man’s torture of his habitat. She sighed at the fading
colour once before getting into a cab.
Alone, the cab was silent until it filled with Kishore Kumar’s melodious voice. She smiled to herself; the
driver had song choices like hers. The water droplets started pouring on the glass panes shortly after that.
She closed her eyes.
The smell of his cologne was as mesmerising as his smile. She had drooled shamelessly at the groom’s
best friend at her cousin’s wedding. He had asked her for a dance. A little red from the blushing perhaps, as he noticed, he flashed a smile, asking her name. They had spent the monsoon wedding, enjoying
the drizzles and the Sun playing hide and seek with the clouds. She had finally spotted the rainbow and he ... her innocence.
A year later, she had her own Monsoon wedding.
Opening her eyes, she stared once at the ring on her finger, and her phone rang.
“Yes, Dad, no, I am not wet, stop worrying.” She kept it away and smiled again. Had there been one day
out in the rain, this man had failed to call? She couldn’t recollect. She was a grown woman now, at times
annoyed at this, at times overwhelmed. The Rain made sure she knew how precious she was to him.
The thunderclouds brewed louder as she frowned. Myrah must be scared. She is always afraid of
thunder. She remembered her days at Grandma’s place when the cousins used to hide beneath
Amma’s majestic four-poster bed, as soon as the thunder roared. She, being the bravest, always
ventured outside first, with a paper boat and a black umbrella she could barely carry. Myrah must be
like her dad in this case. She inferred.
Her car had managed to wade through the waters and finally reached her doorstep. She cursed herself for not bringing an umbrella along in July. She paid the fare and decided to step out.
As
soon as she opened the door, an umbrella over her head surprised her.
“Mom!” She hugged Myrah tightly. “What are you doing here?”
“Myrah called.” Made her frown. Her daughter had chosen to call Grandma and not her? Or perhaps,
she should be proud that Myrah knew the importance of work?
She placed down her bags as the little one ran to her. Running her hand through Myrah’s thick curly hair, she frowned, “ Got wet in the rain again?”
She was not surprised when the over-imaginative child made up a story of how a water fairy had
brought a cloud into her room. She smiled, pressing her lips, trying hard not to laugh.
Putting two cups of brewing coffee on the table and a hot chocolate for her daughter, she sat down for a
long chat with her mother.
The afternoon was making its way to the evening, with the clouds
intensifying. It wasn’t long before Myrah and Grandma needed a nap. She placed the cups in the
sink and stared out at the falling drops. A smile curved her lips.
The paper boat managed to stay afloat in the whirlpool of the open balcony as she stood there in her
pyjamas, getting drenched. A smile curved her lips, and she smiled up at the clouds. The droplets
brought back a lot after a stressful day, childhood, memories, care, happiness and love.
“Wonderful!” She turned at his voice as soon as she sneezed. She had no idea when he had arrived and
how long he had watched her childish play, but yes, he still wore the same cologne. Her smile made him
frown some more. “Who is the kid here, Myrah or you?”
She acted impulsively, for the second time in her life that day. She pulled him outside, drenching his office
wear in the heavy rain, with a burst of carefree laughter. He just shook his head before pulling her closer in
an embrace. The rain gave him back the girl he had met at a monsoon wedding.
She sat at the window pane, dried up, with a heavenly mug of coffee her husband had brewed as she
started typing.
What happens when the Sun falls in love with the grey clouds? A Rainbow.
What happens when the cloud falls on the earth? Raindrops.
Note: This was published in the online Magazine Storytler in 2018.
