A Passing Memory

 When I climbed the stairs of my terrace, to watch the dark grey clouds gather, growling with howling winds, waiting to wash away the streets while brushing my tresses, touching the side of my neck and reaching the ears, it would send a tingle down my spine. The big drops touched my parched skin, the cool imposing wind made it difficult to stand firm. 

Today, when I am confined to bed, looking at the wide open windows tossing right to left, curtains billowing ; hostile raindrops soiled in dust, enter through the window touching my feet. My toes curl looking for cover. Thunder, spluttering noise invade my room, causing my warm body to cover in goosebumps. I touch the tender dots and then rub to make it even. 

My sweaty tangles, smell of salt. As I raise my hand to brush it aside for the pillow to dry; I call my mum to open the windows again as the sound of slowed down fan running on backup is jarring. 

The flashback of half-satiated roads crosses my mind, when I covered the distance from my college to the auto-stand, holding a pointy umbrella against the bruised collar bone. The dark grey clouds would always make me go farther. The cool winds got absorbed in the tanned skin. I was always on the lookout for such weather, as I loved covering miles cloistered in the bubble of my thought. 

One day, tearing the the strong winds, my kurta thrusted against my body. As I tried to loosen my affixed kurta to hide the contours, big raindrops charged over me. My umbrella was mangled. I tried to look for cover. Huddled under a shop, I watched the rain pass as quickly as it came. It caused the wind to drop flat and humidity to rise. Covered in rain, dust and humid, I started to walked again. Vehicles passed by me. I opened my bag to keep the umbrella, while holding out the bottle. Auto wallahs looked at me hopefully to hop in, but I would decline. 

As I crossed Reliance Mart in Kanke Road, I saw a familiar autowallah’s face. He stopped by me saying, ‘ Kitna aur chaliyega! Jaipal Singh Stadium se yaha aa gye? Chaliye direct Kanke Block jayenge. Koi passenger aur nai baithayenge. ‘ I was bought by his offer of sitting alone in an empty auto. He went on saying, ‘ Mere bacche St. Joseph me hai toh unko lete hue BAU ho kar phir Boreya taraf.’ I pursed my lips, but felt there was still time for me enjoy my own company before his kids would join me. Such an offer should never be turned down even when terms and conditions are applied. Not ever! I followed one monotonous path to home everyday. BAU campus shouldn’t be missed!  

He wasn’t the only autowallah, who would throw confusing looks at me while I walked extra kilometres. “ Aap toh bohot acche dur chalte hai, sehat ko le kar kafi jagruk hai!” Little did he know, it was the only diversion I had. Once I entered the gates of my home, I would get cut off from the outside world. I never struggled with curfew times for it was difficult to maintain friends and on top of that the distance had killed all the hopes of having one! 

College was the time, when none would stop for you. Alignments of groups in classes changed, as the hankering for memories reached feverish heights. I had nothing to offer other than the long walks and deep empathetic conversations. I was branded aloof for the lack of privilege. Slowly, it became a part of who I was. I had been experiencing life after college, while being in college. 

Today, all I have is the memory of those longs walks when I reflected on life and some old souls who would keep a tab of my workout session, when I entered the classroom drenched in sweat. The long walks would cut the auto fare in half, and once in a while, I would sit with the old souls in the canteen to have that treat I earned. 

The auto wallah dropped me outside the colony. As I neared home, I felt the world converging behind me. The partial lockdown was waiting for me. The usual humdrum of daily chores and the terrace to breathe in the air again later in the evening remained my constant companions for the larger part of my adult life. 

The saddening part is, I fear losing the terrace and the balcony. I am watching it slipping away from my hands as if it were given on loan. I am waiting to feel robbed. Yet again!