Ashitosh was sitting in the veranda of his home, watching those raindrops percolate through the coconut leaves and shatter into a million minute droplets as it fell on the pebbles. Rains always carried a wide range of emotions with it. Rain always seemed to mystify him; he understood that rain had always remained a part of himself.
And there he was - after all those years of roaming around, back in that old chair watching that slight drizzle turning into a ferocious downpour. There he was - drinking a glass of black tea, with a book in his hand.
It’s been ages since he got some time in peace to himself, like this- with just books for his company. When he looked outside of the compound wall he felt that years had not moved at all, as he watched those different shades of umbrella move as if they had lives of their own – poor ones, elderly ones, indignant ones, bouncy ones and even colored ones. An old gray umbrella that walked quite slowly, took his mind to those old days.
He wanted to go back to those times; he wanted to become a child, sitting in that veranda hearing those heroic stories again. He wanted to see that wrinkled hand holding the gray umbrella, and the kind old face that told him inspiring stories with that constant wheezing of the raindrops in background. He wanted to gape his mouth in adoration, and dream about being a good man in the future. But…there he was.
Sweet music hit him…It took him sometime to realize that the music he was hearing was not that of nature, but of the mobile in his pocket. Ashitosh woke up from the trance and kept his glass down. The black tea had gone cold. The usual mail from Usha Rani told him about the campus placement schedule for the next week.
He looked up into the pouring skies, shivering in the cold, wondering when the rain would stop, for he need to book tickets back to Bangalore…Priorities matter !!
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