THE RETREATING MONSOON

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It was a night with heavy pouring. Retreating Monsoon at its best. I ran and got inside a bus to my place. My eyes searched for a seat and found one near to the conductor’s. I just glanced through everyone in the bus and found everyone half drenched as I was. Bus now seems to be a rectangular box, with all its windows being shut. Such a travel experience was not new to me. This journey took me back a year, to the day with the same natural settings.

After spending some quality time at the Shanghumugam Beach, we were returning to our homes. Ofcourse, there was someone else with me. But we were no different. We both were the same. I never felt her as a second person to me. She was just me, my lady version. That day we sat by the beach, and talked for a long time. All the talking was done by her. She talked and talked and talked, as if she had only me to listen her. And I did listen to all the rubbish she talked, because when she talks, she becomes the more beautiful than she was. Time moves faster when we are with our loved ones and we decided to move back to our homes. Her home was on the way to mine. So we boarded the same bus. She sat beside me and continued her talks. Then all of a sudden it started to rain. She just looked outside and said to me “It’s Retreating Monsoon”.

Bus started to move and I felt very cold. She might have known that, she sat closer to me, giving the warmth of her body to me. She then asked me to hold her by my shoulder. I did so and then she kept her head on my shoulder. That was a heavenly moment for me. I looked at her. She then raised her eyes and looked to my face and asked ‘What?’ I said nothing. She smiled and again kept her head on my shoulder and said “This is the safest place in the World. Here, by your shoulder, between your arms”. I just smiled and held her tightly. Somewhere I heard Love is a feeling which confines the whole world to one person and I was realizing it at that time.

During the course of time,those chained and narrow concepts of religion,separated us.She had to get down at her stop,I also had to,at mine.Our journey couldn’t be completed.

Sitting in this bus,half-drenched,I can still feel the warmth that she had passed to me on that day,my eyes could see the innocent smile that she had on that day,my ears could listen the words that she whispered to me that day… “It’s Retreating Monsoon”

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