He went like a breeze

An entry from a girl’s personal diary – “While I and dozen others were waiting for the rain to stop, having a different reason, each one of us, a whistle swept me off my feet and I saw him walk past me like a breeze on a calm lake…”
… …

“It was raining constantly since last four hours… First I was enjoying the cool breeze and the occasional spattering of rain drops on my face while I was standing alone in the balcony. But then, it changed to surprise, then shock, then worry and then irritation.

I wanted to get out of here, I wanted to go back to my house and sit on my peaceful sofa, eating that last bowl of ice-cream I had in my fridge. I wanted to sit there looking outside of my window into nothingness, seeing the vast, weird sky out in the open. Birds drenched in water, sitting dead in the corner while rain, like an audacious King, sploshed on each and every part of the land.

From waiting at my desk for the rain to stop, I took a courageous step, packed my stuff and left the office to wait downstairs in the hallway. I extended an arm to let it just reach outside in the open, unprotected by the brave shade. I felt the rain drops wet my hand and I enjoyed it. But I had my laptop with me, other gadgets. I was to travel through my two wheeled bike, no, there’s no shade on it. Pity.

I saw others, waiting in the lobby like me. Probably all had reasons like me to not get soaked today. Some even stood there with umbrella in hand. I wondered what stopped them. While some were waiting with others, that makes a difference. A company makes waiting easy. I missed someone I didn’t know. I too wanted to be with someone. Someone I could stand here in the lobby, wait for the rain to stop and then to heartily depart when we left for our homes, in opposite direction.

I heard a whistle from a distance, not so far away. The whistle was so pure that it made its way from all the noise that was around me. (Yes, all the sounds around me seemed to be noise when I heard that whistle…!) I knew that song… Oh Gosh! He could whistle that song!? I immediately turned around and I saw him.

He was totally ordinary. But yet, something about him made me cringe at all my crushes so far. It wasn’t just his whistle. He moved confidently, without having any second thoughts about anything. He knew what he wanted and how he was gonna get it. He made way past all the crowd who was waiting for the rain to stop. He was rolling the keys (probably of his bike in his fingers), playing with them. He didn’t have an umbrella or a coat. Yet he didn’t wait at the lobby or extended an arm to check the intensity of the rain. He didn’t wait even a second at the gate. He went past me like a breeze, brushing a small part of my arm, but not even looking at me.

His backpack was already covered. It had a cover protruding from the last chain on the bottom of the pack. Probably he had already kept all his gadgets and stuff inside the bag. And now he had nothing to worry about. But he would get drenched. It was already cold. He might get fever. Oh what was I thinking! He must be immune to such silly diseases! After all, his one touch, no matter how light, stirred a fire inside me.

I watched him skip several steps and dance in the air while jumping the stairs outside the building gate. He was enjoying his own whistle. Why wouldn’t he? It was so damn amazing! I saw his clothes get wet slowly. His shirt started to shrink, or so it seemed as his body was slowly visible in all its shape and glory. His hair were tapped now to his forehead. And a tiny gush of water flowed from his temple to his nose and jumped over to his lips. I wish I was that drop…

I had to go too. I had to grab a few more looks before he vanishes in this air. I had to see a few more of him, listen to his song for the last time while he whistles away in his bike, zooming upon the water logged roads, splashing water to the sideways. I had to run. I had to fly.

I took a step outside. The rain instantly flooded my clothes and my body was visible in all its glory too. Just when I increased my pace, started to walk quickly, I remembered I was wearing a non-padded one. In the morning hush-hush, I had accidentally grabbed my night clothes instead of proper ones and now it was all visible. But I was lucky, no one had left the building and stepped out in the open but him, and now me.

I ran towards the direction as he had. My clothes were dragging with me. Mine weren’t rain-friendly like his. I had a lot of difficulty walking over the invisible potholes and small streams of gutter. I jumped and galloped and derailed… I fell right into the pit, but felt relieved it was a pit of fresh rain water, no mud, no dirt in it. He was no where visible. He had probably left by now. And I was in this clumsy, pitiful, miserable situation.

There was that whistle again. This time a romantic number from a recently released album. Oh I had to just sit there and enjoy…

I turned back and he stood there behind me, looking at me and my embarrassing position. But his face showed no reflection of that embarrassment. Probably my awkwardness was washed out in the rain. Or probably he saw the embarrassment, reacted to it and moved over it way back in time and now he’s only here to mock me more through an encounter. Oh I so wanted to run away now.

He extended me a hand, without stopping to whistle. I didn’t want him to stop. I took his hand. Oh that hard grip he held me with, I wondered how that grip would have felt on my hips, or my back, and on my thighs… Stop it. I had said that out-loud. He stopped whistling. Oh what had I done!

He watched me, seeking an explanation. Now how would I explain him what I was thinking inside my silly little brain! I made up something stupid, now I don’t remember it, but he had laughed. He had laughed so much. Wait… He had laughed at me. or on me?

I didn’t leave his grip either. And he, well, he seemed to enjoy it too. He pulled me out of the pothole with a single pull towards him. I jumped and moved so close to him that I actually felt those pads missing. I think he felt them too. But he didn’t look at any of me. He was decent. He was a gentleman. But he was turning pink too. I loved it…

We went towards the parking lot, while introducing us to the other and talking a few other topics or may be we went all that way without talking anything, just holding hands… I really don’t care. All I remember is that once we reached the parking lot, he removed his shirt and spread it over me, saying I might get cold and that he won’t like that. I had expected a few things but he was wearing shirt, wait! Did I just made all this up in my mind? There was no removing of shirt or spreading it over me. But was I just imagining him shirtless!? Stop it, I said to my mind again, this time inside my head only. I distracted myself with his words and his questions, and his weird face when I didn’t respond to any of his statements, or questions. Man! Was I making a fool of myself? Please say no…

He offered me a ride to my place. I merrily obliged. I left my bike in the parking lot itself. After all, how much more could I keep my mind away from all the silly thoughts it was weaving. I sat behind him, keeping a distance, keeping in mind to not to touch him, to not let anything of me touch him. Last time he had turned pink, although that was fun, but too much of it would mean something else. I grabbed at the pillion backrest and got ready to not to move no matter how much brakes he applied.

Soon my fears faded. He was driving so well, without any sort of roguery. He diligently applied brakes softly and then accelerated it to make the ride as smooth as possible. Once I stopped looking at the road up-ahead, I couldn’t tell if it was a bump or a straight road or a turn, city road, deserted street, back-alley or an off-road ride. I didn’t even know when had I left the backrest and was sitting peacefully behind him, listening to his whistles, yes they were back again. I wanted it to continue for as long as possible. I wished my home wasn’t so near to the office. We reached in just 5 minutes.

I got down and he helped me with my bag while sitting on his bike. This time he looked at my spots of wetness that revealed and then he smiled and said ‘You should go change quickly before this becomes a news headline.’ And then he laughed. He made it look as appropriate as I thought it was inappropriate. It wasn’t a big deal for him. And now it wasn’t for me too.

I invited him for getting himself dry and probably for a cup of coffee. He waited for a few minutes, gazing deep in my eyes, probably trying to find ideas or hints inside them, trying to decipher my intentions, but I hid them so well. He finally gave up and agreed. And I tried looking as normal, unexcited and plain, and sober and humble, and whatever way breezy as I could look, totally opposite of what was roiling inside me…”
To My Dairy, Yours Liz.

14th July, 2017

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