You couldn't say when it would rain in Mumbai. One moment it would be sunny, the next moment it would be raining. That is the mystifying way of the Mumbai rains.

As he was waiting under a tree, all at once the sky became cloudy. ‘God! She better come now’, he said to himself. ‘Otherwise I would be trapped in the rain’. He prayed it wouldn’t rain. But his prayers were not heard. And it began to rain. First slowly, then fast.

That place had nothing but trees to offer him as a shelter. He knew the rain would drench him soon, but he remained under that banyan tree, helpless and pewerless to stop rain. His heart urged him to wait there and told she would come to meet him at any cost, even in this heavy rain. Hopefully, his eyes kept staring at the direction where she would come from.

Then, there she was, walking swiftly towards him holding a colourful umbrella in her hand against rain. ‘This girl is always late’, he muttered and his face lit up on seeing her.

‘I am sorry I am late’, the girl said as she approached him. He said nothing, feigning anger at her being late. But, artfully, she did not acknowledge his displeasure. ‘Oh, see you are completely wet’, she shouted and made room for him under her small umbrella. ‘How many times I told you to carry an umbrell. This is rainy season, not summer.’

‘God is punishing me for wasting my time here waiting for you’, he replied.

‘Oh dear, I told you I am sorry. Come on, hold this umbrell’, she ordered. Without saying anything he obliged her. ‘Bend your head a little’. Saying that she threw her dupatta over his head and began to rub his hair.

This was unexpected to him. All his anger gone, he just let her go on. At that moment he felt as if he was a small boy in her hands and she was delicately taking care of him. What a beautifful experience it was! Her soft hands rubbing his head vigorously!

She finished. Putting her hands through his hair to check the dryness of his hair, she said, ‘I won’t come late next time. I promise’.

He looked into her beautiful eyes and said, ‘No dear, I wish it always rains; I wish you always come late; and I wish you always rub my hair and make them dry with your dupatta.’

They both laughed.

This time his voice was heard; the rain got heavier and heavier.