Waiting After the Rain

B-24, 2nd Floor

Kashmere Gate, Delhi-110006

Date: 18 February 1985

Dearest Riyan,

This morning I suddenly woke up at five o'clock. When I opened the window of the room, I saw that it was raining lightly. The cool breeze was cooling both body and mind. The earth, which was thirsty for months, was now quenching its thirst with drops of rain. At that very moment your memories came to my mind.

Do you remember when we lived on the top floor of a house in that small area of ​​Delhi? When it rained heavily, you used to run to the terrace half naked. There was the same sparkle and the same desperation in your eyes, as if a barren land was getting drenched with water for the first time. I just kept staring at you. Your laughter dissolved in the air while getting drenched in the rain.

Do you remember those days when you used to walk hand in hand on the wet streets of Delhi without slippers? Your hand would be in mine, but your eyes would always be gazing into the sky, as if searching for something—perhaps some promise of another life, some past conversation, some forgotten vows.

It is raining again today. Not too heavy, not light, just a pleasant rain. This is the first rain after spring. It has come to give new life to those trees which had dried up for months and had given up hope of greenery. Like perhaps my mind had also given up hope of happiness. But today's rain has given me a new life.

Drops of rain were coming inside the window, I reached out my hand and felt them. Like your memories, these were also cold, but there was an untold intimacy in their touch. As if an old acquaintance had come to meet me again. A slight smile appeared somewhere in the corner of my mind, but it was not happiness, it was just a deep feeling of memories.

Do you remember the first time we felt the rain together? Both of us were sitting in an old cafe in Delhi, and suddenly it started raining outside. You looked at me and without saying anything, held my hand and pulled me outside. The roads were wet, the air was cold, but your laughter seemed to give warmth to even that coldness. I told you, 'I don't like rain,' and you laughed and replied, 'One day it will become your favorite thing.'

What you said came true. Today when it rains, my mind gets drenched with your thoughts.

There has been no communication with you for many months, but your presence is still felt around me. When I make morning tea, I remember your habits. You liked half tea and half coffee, and I always laughed at your strange choice. But now, when I make tea without you, sometimes I add half the coffee unknowingly. Perhaps my habits have also been formed from your memories.

Do you ever miss me? Do you ever remember our journey when you pass through a rainy road? When we would just keep walking without any destination, just because we felt like walking along. Maybe your paths have changed now, but I am still standing where you left me.

I know you, you have come a long way in your world. You probably have other things to think about now, other responsibilities. But me? I'm right where you left me. Like a huge tree, under whose shade a traveler has spent some time and gone, and that tree is still standing on the same path, waiting for the same traveler to return.

Your passion for getting wet in the rain, your carefree laughter, your talks, your holding my hand – everything is remembered the same even today. Even now, when it rains, I sit near the window, to relive that feeling. Your memories fall on my mind like cold drops, but also give a strange relief. As if my soul and your memories both come alive again together in this rain.

Sometimes I wonder if we meet again, will we be the same as we were before? Will you look at me the same way you did before? Will there be the same affection, the same madness in your eyes for me? Or has the dust of time covered those feelings?

Maybe this rain is a sign that we will meet again. Maybe this spring will fill my life with color again. Perhaps one day you will return, and our world will blossom again.

Waiting for you,

Ugney

After few Days And A Reply

56, Prince Anwar Shah Road

Kolkata - 700033

Date: February 25, 1985

Dear Ugney,

Received your letter. Like those drops of rain whose touch soaks the soul even after years, your words drenched my mind in deep affection. While reading the letter, so many memories came before my eyes. Those evenings in Delhi, when we used to just walk without any destination, you holding my hand and leading me forward, and me stopping every time to look at you – all these memories seemed to have come alive again.

The rain brought you to me. Reading your words, I felt as if I have returned to that past time, where the sounds of our laughter are still echoing. I remembered that night, when suddenly it started raining and you were standing on the terrace, arms outstretched, eyes closed. You embraced the rain as if it were a lost part of your soul. And I, I just kept looking at you, thinking that there could be no other moment more beautiful than you.

But times have changed now, Ugney. Our world is no longer the same. You are standing and waiting in the same street of Delhi, but I have moved on, or perhaps I am pretending to move on. Sometimes I wonder, what would have happened if we were still together? If life had not pushed us on different paths? But perhaps we may never get answers to some questions.

Your pain is reflected in every line, and I can feel it. But I also know that life cannot be lived only in memories. The function of rain is not only to remind us of the past but also to give life to new shoots. Shouldn't we do the same? Should we move forward by cherishing the past moments in our hearts?

I have tried, Ugney. Despite being separated from you, I have tried to keep you alive within me. But perhaps now the time has come that we should keep those memories within us as a soft memory, and not carry them as a burden.

Still, knowing that somewhere far away, from some window in Delhi, someone is remembering me with the same love and intimacy, is enough for me to know that our love will never end completely.

Maybe one day, in another rain, we'll meet again. Maybe at some point your hand will come into my hand again. But until then, my dear, cherish your memories like the first rain of spring—the one that gives hope for life to bloom again.

Forever Yours,

Riyan