Thursday, 24 October 2013

Home Coming I

He was nothing she had once asked for. Rather, he was many things that she dreaded. At least, it seemed so, when they first met.

Like, she spent a fortune at the salon to do her toe nails every fortnight. He was a declared broke.

She learnt Salsa for six months, diligently, in view of the impending new-year bash at some high-end café which was the talk of town. He, well, wrote poetries.

She would never roll down her car’s window panes. She normally had meetings through the work-day and would be touching up the slides on her way to office, in case she is not driving herself. He always walked down the streets.

There, she was. And there, he was.

And then one day, it rained. Well, you may say, it rains every year. Yes, it does, every year and around the same time. But this time, it was February. So as you know, something was different.

Like, on her way back, she stepped out of her car and into the rain, while her home was still a few blocks away. She stepped out with her belongings, whatever she carried with her on a normal working day. She then did something funny.

She carefully laid out her laptop bag on the pavement. As if, it needed to soak in the water-drops as much as she seemed to need them at that moment. On the surface of the bag, she put her month-old touchscreen phone. This, in short, was a “neighbours’ envy, owner’s pride” stuff, which could easily exchange for a second-hand four-wheeler that lesser households proudly possess.

She then let her pink satin scarf adorn the neck of the youngest of the three beautiful dark children that were playing in the rain on the roadside. The baby girl soaked in the pink of it. The girl smiled back a smile only angels can pull off.

She watched keenly, as the middle one ran back to his make-shift hut to keep back the gift he just earned from her. This was, well, her wallet. She didn’t forget totally that the wallet still housed her credit cards, driving license, and other things that are not easy to make up for. The thought of letting them go gave her a kind of peace she never knew.

For the eldest of the three, she just had a tight hug. She held the girl as if she would never let her go. The twelve year old girl, bewildered, could not really make out the reason. However, it seemed that she loved it the most among the three.

And finally, she turned back. There he was. Across the road, in a vision of a straight line, a vision only interrupted by the traffic that glazed through the rain. She walked up her way to him. This, though of a distance that would hardly measure a few meters, seemed like a journey best described as eternity.

The traffic had stopped, she did not. She had a smile on her face which, if her mother could see, would remind her of how she felt the first time she held her, years back when she was born to her.

He did not move an inch. She reached him, instead. And then he said something that changed her life forever. Welcome home!