The rain-kissed...

The rains lashed out their fury. She watched from her bed, tiny rivulets of water sliding down the window panes. The clock straight above stood still at seven. Was it evening or morning, she was not sure. The green gown of the hospital smelt of disinfectant and medicines, her head reeling at the heady scents of life and death. Where is he now, she thought absently, drifting in thoughts. She vividly remembered the color of his eyes, the laugh lines along the ends of his eyes, the long drooping eye lashes, the shock of dark curly hair and the smile- the smile that shook her very being, the smile that has been haunting her for a long time. She reminisced their last meeting, rain drenching every bit of her, remorse washing every ounce of her soul. He had sought answers- answers why she was running away from him and a future with him. All she could do was stand silently rooted under the banyan tree, with raindrops and tears running down her cheeks...

The night duty nurse Sheela picked up a magazine and flipped through the pages absently. The patient on the bed was resting, she presumed. It is rather tiresome to be taking care of the same patient for a long time, she thought to herself. It has been three months since she was assigned to patient 1243. Dutifully, she had checked the pulse, temperature, pressure, eyes and slowly rolled over the socks over the chill and numb toes. Hair plaited, eyes closed with a tiny band aid fixed to the lids and the ventilator humming, the patient was sleeping peacefully. Sheela's thoughts went back to her ailing father at home. His cough had gone from bad to worse and all she wanted was him to pass away peacefully in sleep. Lung cancer in advanced stage was almost eating him away and she was a mute spectator. Her long nights in hospital away from him had made him more melancholic and lonely, yet she needed this salary to keep him ticking. She had proper rest in the hospital after she was assigned to bed number 1243.

1243? How she hated numbers...He was not so, he was a super computer and an awesome programmer. An intellectual, she smiled to herself. Rain was a messenger between them. She was always struck with awe whenever they met and in the company of rain. The long conversations in the empty classrooms, the short walks to the bus terminus, the small parties with friends where they sent searing glances at each other, the long train journey they had once traveled together...rain had walked hand in hand with them. Memories flooded her mind. She remembered the empty envelopes he handed to her, asking her to write to him when they parted ways. They had always remained empty and untouched, underneath all paraphernalia in her cupboard. She had always wanted to write to him, but held herself back. Now there were two families involved and she did not want to hurt anyone, ever- him, the most.

When would he ever see her? He had vivid dreams of her these days. The shortly cropped hair, the ringing laughter, dancing eyes and chirpy voice- the memories locked away somewhere in the subconscious came rushing back. His life with his wife Rama had been a quiet and uneventful one, peaceful and serene. Yet he longed to see his childhood sweetheart, feel her and touch her- that chirpy bouncing girl of his younger days. The long lost love, for whom he had waited with bated breath. That woman who left him for someone else. That woman who never uttered those three words. If only he could ever meet her once before he died...he coughed out aloud and wiped away the blood trickling down his nose. The pain came suddenly, all he could feel was her soft touch on his arm, the warm breath of her fanning his fevered cheeks and her cool lips on his forehead. Not a dream, this was for real...he smiled. His last breath was painless and peaceful.

Sheela woke up with a start when she heard peculiar sounds from the patient. The patient was almost breathless, eye balls rolling but no movement in her limp limbs. Sheela had seen so many comatose patients and she knew exactly what was happening. She held the thin fingers lovingly and caressed the hollow cheeks. Her lips were uttering silent prayers. The ventilator ceased its function with a violent thud and a tiny drop of final tear rolled down the closed eyes. Patient 1243 was dead. Sheela felt a lump in her throat as she picked up the hospital phone to call the duty doctor. The relatives had to be informed. Her mobile had been ringing incessantly for a while now and she picked it up after informing the office of the death.

It was her little brother Vimal who sounded out of breath. " Dad passed away. I noticed just now, Sheela". His voice breaking down, he sobbed silently. Sheela glanced at the dead patient, whose face looked composed and angelic in death. The raindrops fell pitter patter on the window sill in their own gleeful dance, kissing the glass panes...

Orange blossoms

He lay sprawled on the road. His face calm and serene, not a scratch on the cherubic face. Splinters of glass lay scattered on the road mixed with flowers strewn around- tiny orange blossoms and the curious onlookers were slowly dispersing. Only when he was lifted and wheeled away, blood glistened in the evening rays of sun. Splash fell the water, rinsing away the blood from the flowers and the road. Passing vehicles were now crushing the orange blossoms and he did want to collect them all over again and smell the heady scent. Twenty six is not the age to die and definitely death by a road accident is not pleasant. He would have loved to die peacefully, calm and sleeping. God was one person who never heeded to his wishes. Drawing a few breaths, he moved away. It was time.

She closed the book she had been reading and peeked at the clock. It read five forty five. He usually arrived by five. Of all the three odd months they had been together in this tiny world called their home, he was always punctual. Their evenings were spent in strange silence. He would sit in the living room watching hours and hours of television while she sat by the sofa reading, sewing and at times, simply humming softly to herself. Their dinners were always short, the only sound being the clangs of cutlery on the plates. He liked neatness everywhere and she tried hard to keep things organised. Even if he found the house a mess, his reaction would be a cold stare. That stare always sent her scurrying, cleaning and wiping the house. She tried hard to remember the last time she had seen him laugh and failed miserably.

He always wanted to be home- he would pounce the moment the clock struck five. She always sat near the window sill on the living room, watching her favorite sparrows. The pair had moved in recently to the orange tree shading their hall and he knew she loved watching them. She loved to breathe in the aroma of orange blossoms, her eyes half- closed and head thrown back. The placid golden yellow rays of the sun would wash over her angelic face as her gaze lingeringly followed the sparrows and the blossoms.

 He loved the way her nimble fingers held the needle and the glorious patterns she stitched on her pillow covers and kerchiefs. He never complained about the way she kept her house. The orderliness, the cleanliness and her artistic touch in flowers adorning the corner vase, he grew to love them all gradually. He was worried when she didn't do her routine- he was annoyed that she might be sick when he saw the house in a mess. And he knew one stare at her would bring her back to life and pink of health. He loved the silence they shared together. 

He was a man of less words, that she knew well before the wedding. She tried hard to impress him during the early days and failed to get so much of a smile from him on her home making skills. He seemed to have shut her off completely...or she wondered if she had ever gone through the wall between them, being shy and coy herself. They had week end outings to malls and movies. Her efforts to strike romantic conversations with him back fired as he completely closed off her from casual pep talk. She was wondering what went wrong and tried to solve the riddle herself. After few nerve racking trials, now she was resigned to fate. Some day, he will...

He knew she tried to breach his barriers- his carefully erected walls. He was not going to let her do that, he mused. Memories of a painful past hovered in front of his eyes. He had always been an introvert and so when Deepa entered his life like a thunderstorm on a rainy evening, he was sucked up by a whirlwind of passion and love. Her chirpy demeanor and ringing laughter alighted his soul and he felt he found his soul mate in her. She came home, cooked for him, even bedded him and finally ditched him for his boss. That bitch! His blood boiled even now, thinking of her. 

He needed time- a few months at least, to size up this petite, young woman that has been his wife of three months. He did not want to repeat the mistake of falling for a wrong woman the second time...She was chosen by his parents and he had married her- had he a choice? No! These three months had been a living hell, he thought. God, how much he did want to talk to her, to caress the fine lines on her brow, to wipe away tiny rivulets of sweat running down her spine, to feel her thumping heart beat every time he came near her...The very thought of her made him ache for her...long for her...

She was so much engrossed in her own thoughts that the shrill noise of telephone startled her. She picked up the receiver and whatever being said on the other side must have been bad, real bad. He kept watching her face go from a dull pink to a sheet white and she fell with a noisy thud on the floor. He  wanted to pull her up in his arms and soothe her, wake her up and utter whispers of loving words... The sparrows chirped and the orange blossoms swayed in the cool evening breeze, the aroma wafting through the thin curtains. He could never tell her his last words- I LOVE YOU.