Just because it's the monsoon season, and I wanted to write something on it. Don't know what to call it, as it seems too long to be drabble, and too short to be a full-fledged OS. Anyway, leave your thoughts, please😳
RiAnsh Drabble | Monsoon Love
Vansh Raisinghania hated rains.
For someone who lived in a city that was as famous for its rains, as it was for housing a film industry that made millions off of romanticizing them, he hated the monsoons with a passion rarely any person displayed for a harmless season.
He had hated the rains for as long as he could remember. He had hated it as a kid when his small, cramped one bedroom house in a Mumbai chawl would get flooded due to heavy rains, and he would have to spend hours with his widowed mother, trying to throw the dirty water out in a bid to save the measly possessions his family owned. He had hated rains when the leaking roof of his house would force him and his little sister to huddle against each other in one corner of the house, while waiting for their mother to come home and cook them food after a hard day of grueling labour. And, he had hated it with a loathing unimaginable for a boy of 15 years, when one rainy day his mother didn’t come back home at all after work, leaving him and his sister-orphaned, and alone-to fend for themselves.
As an adult who finally left behind all the trials, and sufferings that came from living in such penurious conditions, he hated this season for the inconvenience it caused. He hated the water-logged roads and streets, and the miles-long traffic. He hated the ruined schedules, the unpredictable delays, and the unforeseen leaves of his employees. He hated the vagaries of this weather, the might of the Mumbai sea during fierce rains, that scared him, and reminded him of the loss of his mother, and the feeling of loneliness that struck deep during this season.
Suffice to say- Vansh Raisinghania absolutely detested rains.
Until, he met her.
It was during one of these rainy days when Vansh’s driver had driven his car over a puddle, splashing the dirty water onto a girl standing on the side of the road by a corn vendor. That girl- in an uncharacteristic bout of rage- had screamed in a highly colourful language, about the insensitivity of some pretentious car-owners towards the remaining public, and then lobbed her half-eaten bhutta at his driver’s head, whilst continuing to mutter under her breath about her day going from bad to worse. And, Vansh- in a display of chivalry that shocked him the most- had apologized profusely for his driver’s inadvertent mistake, and had offered to drive her to a nearby café for some warmth and dryness. While that girl had been using the washroom, he had ordered some warm coffee and two pieces of soft, gooey chocolate cake as a further offering of apology. When she had emerged from the washroom-cleaned up, and calmed down-she had been contrite for her violent behavior towards his driver, and had assured him that she was not always such a hot-head. Vansh- in an even bizarre turn of events- had laughed and waved away her apology, invited her for some coffee and cake, and had asked about her name and the reason for her bad temper. She had told him her name was Riddhima, and that she had just been fired from her job as a waitress by her manager because she was late to it due to heavy rains. And while, after some careful prodding, and cajoling, she had opened up about her job woes, and her financial troubles- Vansh had gazed upon her big, doe-eyes the colour of molten chocolate, the silky curtain of her black tresses flowing down to her waist, and the pink, pouty lips just begging to be kissed- and had taken a giant leap of faith, given her his phone number, and offered to help her out with her job search.
Vansh would never understand what had prompted an absolute stranger to take him up on his offer, and exchange her number with him. Or how a completely innocuous meet-up regarding a job opening in his friend’s company, had transformed into another harmless coffee-date at the same café. Or how that first coffee date had led to more such dates, and more such easy, effortless conversations, and more such car-rides in the rain.
But, that was a year ago.
And now, sitting in the backseat of his car- with the pitter- patter of the gently falling rain providing a perfect accompanying melody to the soulful voices of Kishore Kumar and Lata Mangeshkar playing from the car stereo, Riddhima crooning along with them while snuggling against him, and eating her masala bhutta- Vansh came to the startling realization that monsoons weren’t so bad after all.
And, how much he loved rains.
Comments, please?❤️
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