The forbidden fruit

July 16th, 2008 | by Santosh n

 

It dawned with a solemn promise from the heavens that day, the dark clouds hovering in the sky obscured the luminous rays of the mighty sun. 

 

The God’s threw open the sluice gates of paradise to relieve the earthlings of an extended cycle of summer. The rains deferentially complied with the divine diktat and beat the earth torrentially.  

 

The advent of monsoon has perennially been a joyous occasion for me, the surprise holidays and free time in the classroom that the rains gifted me during schooling. Escorting damsels in distress to their homes (almost nearly) under the safe refuge of my umbrella during the college days  

 

The emancipation from the clutches of the fatal heat wave and the freedom from the Damocles sword of water cut that hang over the heads of all Mumbaikars. . . . . courtesy the Mumbai municipality. 

 

The rains wipe away the anguish and smoothers the physical scars inflicted by its predecessor. . . . . . . . 

 

As is my wont, I decided to stay away from monotony (read office) and instead chose to appraise the maiden rainy day of the season. Armed with my magnanimous umbrella that could effectively shelter at least three adults, I set out on a course of trudging through the rain.  

 

The earth spewed out its trapped latent heat and rent the air with an enamoring, familiar scent . . . . . a romanticist delight. Savoring the   joys that nature offers on a rainy day, I quietly followed my predetermined course earnestly……  

 

I sighted her some twenty feet away, enough to have had adequate time to ascertain the familiar silhouette, as that of Vidya’s.  

 

Vidya Achuthan was a petite, yet extremely good looking lass in her late twenties. Endowed with oodles of charm, she was graceful, elegant and on the whole quite an impressive package. She had this “head turning” effect on men and was an idée fixe in the neighborhood. 

 

My acquaintance with Vidya was confined meagerly to the quintessential pleasantries and / or a diplomatic smile whenever we cross path. . . . .  she , out of sheer nicety, probably. . . . . . me, because of societal compulsions. 

 

Watching her seeking shelter under the extended roof of a local shop, in a desperate attempt to shield herself from the menacing downpour, I proceeded to present myself as her knight in the shining armor. 

 

Hi there, Vidya, waiting for someone, I inquired, hoping against hope that she would nod in the negative. 

 

Yes indeed, waiting for this rain to subside. I have a train to catch , was her wit laden response. 

 

Oh! I said , feeling relieved. Well, you are invited to hop in with me if you please. I could walk you over to the station. 

 

Gee thanks, that’s very nice of you, she said. I drew closer to her and in one quick move she was besides me. 

 

Wow, what an umbrella, she exclaimed in wonder, this could shelter the whole town, she gave away a hearty laugh. 

 

I cursed myself for carrying this grandfather’s umbrella. A briefer  version would have been more exciting. 

 

The wind blew hard as a few wild strands of her now unkempt  hair caressed my arm. Suddenly I felt her fingers on my arm as she tried to avoid the splash of muddy water caused by a fast moving automobile. The chivalry  in me surfaced almost in tandem and I pulled her hard towards me just in the nick of time. 

 

She swore under her breath, but instantly regained her composure and smiled. 

 

Thanks again, that was close, she smiled her sweet smile and looked unswervingly into my eyes as my heart melt!!  

 

I was now beginning to see a lot of sense in those verses of love that I found insipid in the past. At the high noon of your life loving and being loved are liabilities and men at this age would not want to carry baggage. However pragmatism and morality is the name given to the lack of opportunity (partially quoting Bernard Shaw!!). Age notwithstanding men could fall head over heels by the feminine charms and invariably end up hurting the heart. 

 

You are very tall, she smiled again. I was taken aback…..was that a pass she made?? . . . . foolish, gullible, naïve soul, my inner self rebuked me. . . . . she just means that she is getting wet, hold the umbrella a trifle lower. 

 

Men of my age , I guess are very clear of the ills of such unholy alliances but are nevertheless most vulnerable to it too.

 

We were a lot more drenched as we approached her destination. The crowds surged past us, anxious to avail the skeleton train services existing. it was finally time to bid adieu. 

 

Thanks a lot Santosh, you are a real great company,  see you again!!   she whispered . . . or it seemed like it in the din and confusion. ….

 

Ok, Ok I told my agitating self. . . .  . I know she was just being nice. 

 

However a strange feeling of happiness overwhelmed me. I shut my grandiose umbrella and decided to take the walk back in sodden glory. ..  . . . . 

 

Dil hai ke mantha nahin!!! 

 

The sudden spurt of bliss had a rejuvenating effect on me.  

 

Love is a great leveler. . . . sans age barriers. . . . .

 

 

a great curer. . . . elates the mind and diverts it from ails and misery. 

 

I silently wished to live life all over again!!!