It poured instead of raining, and traffic responded by standing still in Noida sector 60 making all the office- released hasty and horn-honking. Every shop and compound became shelters, and got crowded enough to hide their purpose. Smokers started smoking to bid the time rather romantically watching the rain and few hung up to their phones.Checking mails and checking time.
One guy, whose name could have been anything, stood there neck deep in thoughts, and head deep in the rain-less cloud of smoke rising from his mouth. He could be seen as seeing everything around, but with a lost sense of flicking the ash and slow exhales of smoke, he wasn't actually seeing anything. His mind was full of thoughts, too many to think one through. As if he wasn't thinking anything either.As if he wasn't there or anywhere precisely. He was just somewhere, some gloomy place that has kept him at an average low point of feeling.This was just as vague as a cold sense of strangeness that he and his wife shared from quite sometime, seldom resulting in an argument, but often in prolong silences. After seven years this was perhaps usual,he thought. Love marriage sucks, was another.
Sound of a screaching bike, with roars of laughter braught him back on that shelter.
Two guys came on a bike, wet like a melting icecube, rushing to the shelter while jumping on the water pounds that were newly developed, and ready to take care of a new families of unnamed insects. They came with all the zest in the world, tapping and slapping each other, expressing their surprise to rain, blaming each other with strong abuses for making the decision to move and get drenched, without a shred of conviction that they didn't like it. What makes them so happy, he wondered with a spoon full of irritation.
The newly arrived guys, wiping their faces, scanned the area only to acknowledge each other once they noticed one pretty yet dry girl, anxiously looking to road in hope of a rain stop or an auto to drop.He looked at them trying to judge them.What better thing one can do than judging people around.They kept talking to eachother, while passing casual glances to the girl.There was a confirm interest, yet a decency of keeping it to themselves.One of those guys who talk all mc-bc among friends and keep a good guy for the rest, he thought.The usual good guys.The usual good guys who steal a look from a girl and stay happy at that mostly.The usual good guy that himself was, before he became a usual working Man.
Some eight years back, a guy whose name could have been anything, saw a girl waiting for auto in a rain flooded place just like him, but at a distance. A beautiful girl, with her anxious eyes, wet hairs, and a sweetness that covered her in that lifeless concrete surrounding. She saw him once or twice and he managed to look indifferent and innocent, the usual good guy that he was. An auto came, and stopped for her after half hour of wait, and he looked at her climbing to that auto. To him the most desirable girl was sitting on the most desirable auto, leaving him alone like a fly in a cup of lukewarm tea.
As he couldn't show his disappointment, though perhaps no one was watching, he looked the other way, in a cool fashion that suited him best. But the auto stopped right next to him, with an unsure voice of a girl, " you can come in this one, if you want to."
Rain in noida sector 60 had almost stopped and the guys with bike had long gone, when the man with cigarette just arrived with all his senses. He could see everything around him, hear every word, feel every remaining drops. He dashed across the road, towards his car. He couldn't wait to reach home. He couldn't wait to correct the wrongs.
He wouldn't wait for auto to stop, once again.