"The fun in writing..!!"

    That Corn walk

I slowly opened my eyes to find myself nestled comfortably among the fluffy pillows and my favourite stuffed teddy. I have no sense of the time zone, I’m in. My hands automatically search for my life saver to place myself in some part of the reality. Unfortunately I am unable to feel the assuring shape of my mobile phone. I slowly start to panic realising that my sister is at home and there is every chance that she could have taken it. Not that I have anything to hide but a girl deserves some privacy. I never bother about her private life, I mean mostly I don’t. Maybe there was this one time when I tried to find her facebook   password from browser cache. Also there was this another time when I had casually gone through the call logs when she handed me her phone in the trial room. But it doesn’t matter, I am her elder sister. I have got the rights. I am just looking out for her. And she doesn’t have that excuse. Apart from losing my phone now and then, I am quite a responsible person who can take care for her own personal life.

I hop out of the bed , ripping the blanket away from me.

THUD !!

“Oh Shit !”, I can hear myself exclaiming. I should have checked the blanket.  I look down to see my phone lying with the display down on the floor. I can hear my heart beating, while I slowly bend to pick it up. My phone already had a crack on the screen and it will not survive another. I turn over the phone praying all the while, only to find that the crack has widened. I immediately check with the power button to see if it’s still in the working condition.

 “Bingo!” , it works just right. I make myself a millionth oath to never drop my phone ever again and check for the time. It’s six in the evening and I have had two hours of  blissful sleep after a long tiring day out in the sun. I look out of my bedroom window straight into the drizzle. The breeze feels refreshing and cool. From my window, I have a perfect view of a couple walking side by side on the pavement. I can see that the girl is biting into something she is holding in her hand. I try and get a closer view. It’s corn. And if it was any other day I would have been contemplating a thousand things like how she is lucky enough to find someone good looking and sweet like him, or how she is struggling in her two inch heels, falling now and then, or how her pant is too loose to be a gathering, or how her hair is still in a perfect ponytail in spite of the rain. But right now all I can think about

is the corn. And as if on the cue, my stomach gives a low grumble voicing out that I am ravenous. Out of impulse, I decide that a corn would be perfect for this climate. I get ready and head out with a purple umbrella and my purse. I had shoved phone into my purse. I start walking down the path away from home into the blissful depth of rain. After covering a very short distance, I realise that my hair could still get wet from the raindrops that slide down the canvas of the umbrella straight into the tips of my hair, as if they are on slides of water pools in the amusement park. Now, that’s a bad thing because my hair just frizzes out when it gets wet and that is every girl’s nightmare.

So I stop near a building, and wrap the dupatta right around my head covering as much as hair as possible. I adjust it once or twice until I am satisfied. Then I pick up the umbrella and start walking again. When I walk over the speed breaker to make my way into the main road, I accidently step on something slippery.

“Shit !” and that is what it is. I bitterly blame my luck under my breath and start walking again. I can see that the road is covered with puddles of water. That’s when I get a perfect idea. I keep up my casual pretence and carefully step right into the stagnated water. I make sure to give a revolted expression as if it is an accident. This is mainly because the girls from respectful families don’t just step in the dirty rain water. It’s considered to be an utter carelessness and dirty water here also being the literary representation of the dark nature of human sins.

I smile to myself, now that my slippers are cleaned off the cow dung without anyone actually noticing. This is what life is about, isn’t it? ,all these small victories, little secrets and funny pretences.  

Now, I need to cross the road to reach that part, where the shops are located. But the traffic is at its peak. I am surrounded by a lot of people waiting to cross the road. As we wait there, it starts to rain heavier. I turn to my left to see a group of pedestrians near the zebra crossing. The members of the group, they don’t seem to be related. There is this respectful old couple, a trio of teenagers, a tired mom with two kids huddling close to her, a smartly dressed salesperson who is using his briefcase to cover his head, slightly spoiling his attractive appearance and finally a young girl who must be going home after a long day at the college. They are all desperate to cross the road and keep trying to move forward. There is nothing special about this particular group except one thing. I am surprised to see that they are all looking out for each other. When the kids tried to run into the traffic, the old man held them back and when he staggered in the process of grabbing the kids, the sales guy caught and steadied him and when he dropped the briefcase in his hurry to support the old man, the girl picked it up for him. It felt good to see that, people helping out each other outside the media and the cameras.

But, deep inside I know one thing for sure, if it was a normal day, none of this would have happened. Everyone of us would have been immersed in our electronic gadgets chatting the wait away. Maybe, this is rain uniting us all in its own splendid way. I slowly walk over and join that group and after a few minutes we all go our separate ways to our different destinations or maybe even destinies.

The pavements and public transports are more crowded than ever. The street vendors are having their dream come true. The essence of rain is seasoned by the exotic smells of roadside food. As I cross over a boutique shop, I find a single rose poking over the shop’s window. The rose seems to be made out of a unique rich red velvet. It is beautiful, and like a child’s smile, it is innocently beautiful. I have this urge to get a closer look. I peek into the window to find a little water droplet nestling on the rose’s petal, both perfectly complimenting each other like a cute couple. I grudgingly tear my eyes away from the rose only to look straight into clock right across me. It is showing half past seven. My curfew begins at 8.I have only half an hour left. I literally run along the sidewalk into vegetable shop. I hurry past everyone trying to find the corn. But there seems to be some kind of a mis-placement. The corn is not in its usual place.

With a sinking heart, I walk over to the billing counter to verify the whereabouts of the corn. In the back of my mind, I am reminded of a kid who had dropped his favourite lollipop without getting to taste its delicious flavor. I feel that kind of a great disappointment. And that is when I see them, perfectly arranged delicious yellow wonders. The euphoria of finding them nearly overwhelms me. But my mom’s call which seems to be coming from a land far less magical yet where she still perfectly fits into the role of the threatening godmother , pierces through my thought bubbles. I rush through the billing process and literally seize the package from the sales guy. I come out of the shop and find that it is no longer raining and that I don’t need my umbrella anymore.

 I start walking along the roadside, casually glancing around. Somehow every nook and corner looks different now, more dark and dangerous without the comforting sound of the raindrops accompanying me. Every  thing is back to normal. Even my magical rose seems to have lost its lustre. The very air I breathe in is stuffy without the perfect blend of the rain. It looks as though the rain has taken all the magic away from this realm to another. I reach the zebra crossing and look around to find people engaged in their own business. There are no more smiles, no more attempts at friendly conversations now that the electronic Johnys have come out to play after sending the rain away to come again another day. I can’t help but feel a resentment that the rain didn’t last longer. I make my way back home feeling far less enthusiastic and lonely. The sky is empty, just an infinite stretch of grey canvas. There are a very few stars here and there probably guarding the reminder of them who must be mourning the departure of our rain.

I habitually change the package from my right hand to left. The weight of the corn and reddish blotches formed on my right hand palm draw back my attention back to the mission of my walk. As I fondly look at the package imagining the hot steamy taste of it on my tongue, I suddenly realise something very important. Maybe the rain didn’t take all the magic away. It has left me something I badly wanted, to remember it by. I bet it has left behind something for every one else too. Pleasured by that thought, I add a little more josh to my steps as I trod along the stony path to the have my mouthwatering date in the Summer’s lonely raining night.