It was the time of the murky skies of the monsoon. The clouds were weeping profusely to alleviate their unknown sorrow. Mangoes fell off every now and then from the trees with a thud, and the village women who dried their pickles outdoor had to frequently take their things in.
He had returned home on a vacation after a long time. In fact the village was hardly his home anymore; he was now what one would call a top-to-toe corporate manager leading a busy city life with meetings, assignments and a tightly packed 9-to-5 corporate schedule.
He was always shy and introvert and had never been able to speak the word of his heart to his next door sweetheart at the village. Whenever they would cross each other in their muddy village street, or meet when his mother used to take him to her home , he bowed his head down in shyness. He could look at every place in the world, but could not brave the shyness of looking up at her face.
As is true for an average human being , that the unknown is always intriguing, she had always been mysterious and wrecked storms in the thoughts of his otherwise calm mind. But life at the city had taught him a lot now. He knew , it was only social to look at a woman and talk politely , and that merely glancing at a woman’s face would not betray his dormant emotions.
This monsoon the rain was pouring in torrents harder than ever. Every now and then, here and there was a thud of mangoes falling off and the broken twigs, flying leaves, wet and clayey earth and the waving paddies soaked in the water together created a smell that was so intimate to his heart.
He was at the village pool when the rain had started. His grandfather had built a bridge across the pool when he was the upozila chairman. As the clouds got dense engulfing the meek sun and casting a dark shadow over the entire village heralding the sign of a seasonal storm, he decided to bathe in the rain.
Just as the waters started drizzling, there arrived ‘she’ with her mother. They were apparently returning from the village market. Her mother had always adored him and with a feminine affection she enquired about his well being holding his chin with her delicate palm. Soon the rains got thick and her mother abruptly ran home saying she would have to take indoors the pickles that were being dried.
He was all of a sudden left alone with ‘her’. At first the long nursed and cursed unease and shyness of his seemed to take over, but then his ‘corporate self ‘got the better of him. He raised his head high, subdued the thumping heart beat, looked straight enough at her face and meekly asked, ‘How have you been?’
She replied , ‘Fine, but what took you so long to speak?’
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