It is five past five.
And the evening had suddenly disappeared among flocks of dark clouds . The march of those clouds is threatening enough to break the rhythm of normal life. Some sort of urgency has gripped the streets….people swiftly moving from one place to another….
Cars running with headlights on….hawkers pulling up cover on their commodities….
The scent of wind gradually spreading the message in lips and bounds….and with every second the earth seems waiting for something to happen….
Another slash of wind.
The message which came as a rumour now turned into reality.
Monsoon halted at Park Street.
The clouds within fractions of moment started milking water….and rain came down.
A torrential rain.
When the first drop of rain touched me I am crossing the road….my umbrella looking like a mere laughter and I ran towards the steps of Music World.
I got a bit protection under the shade.
But I got worried.
How would she come?
The distance from her office to here may be a minute’s walk, but in this rain it is sure to be take much more time and the walking among these cosmopolitan ruffians would surely be far from easy.
I am getting mad to think what should I do….I am always impatient….now to the extreme. Once I thought I should move towards her office but it would be really a hand-clapping sight if instead of her I meet her boss looking toward me with numerous questions scribbled on his face with hints of added spice and gossips!
I started walking restlessly….and at that moment….
I saw her.
She is walking as usual calmly….every steps bearing the undaunted significance of a confident woman….her face in this darkness also holding a light as if declaring the images of the lost evening sun….her blowing hairs writing some fantasy among the hazardous atmosphere….her beautiful red kurta and yellow salwar reciprocating her madly beauty….the drops of rain on her red kurta disappearing almost flawlessly without leaving a mark….a picture of naturalism which made me remember ….a landscape of Abanindranath Tagore….the master of naturalism….her eyes searching for me…. a feeling which is itself enough a reason to live a thousand life….her lips touching each other as if to discover those moments ….in which some words comes to heart but never spoken through lips….a soothing symphony of undescribed emotions….
She saw me….
She is coming towards me….
My heart still runs faster.
After so many days still whenever I see her I feel that I am seeing her for the first time.
I love her.
She is coming towards me….I forgot about the heavy rain….I forgot that my umbrella is almost blown away….I lost from my mind totally that in this rush I should save my pocket, Park-Street being like a holy place of the pick-pocketers….I hardly heard that
Cars, taxis, bikes are fiercely blowing their horns….I hardly saw that the Traffic signal is irritatingly sluggish and got stranded in red light as Rahul Dravid does in 99….I did not care about the cover of the book-stall in front of me is almost falling on me after not managing any traces of friendship from the rainy wind….
I only saw that she is coming….
A picture written with pure words of mesmerisation and beauty….
She is crossing the roads….
She is coming near and near….
She.my love. When ever I saw her I feel that I am in front of a vast sky which has no limits. Much like Tagore’s writing I can say that whenever she comes towards me….
I realize that there are many things in between me which is only meant for her….
The more I know her ….the more I doesn’t know her….the more I feel her ….the more I
possess the urge to adore her….She is like a deep ocean to me which touches shores ….only to show that she is unreachable….her real beauty lay in the freedom ….the vastness….the horizon….
It is a moment which became immortal!And it made life looks a bit more beautiful!