When Monsoon Met My Heart
By Puvvukonvict | Published on
My days went on as usual. After a few days, I didn’t see her. Though her presence vanished from my eyes, her essence lingered within me. Like a soft melody stuck in my head, her image played in loops—those delicate eyes, that gentle glance. I went to college and came home with the same vibe. Nothing changed outside, but inside, a storm was quietly rumbling.
One day, while hanging out with Raghu, he casually tossed a question my way.
Raghu: “How’s that girl?”
Me: “Dude, she appeared and vanished. She might be some relative who came to Manasa’s house and went back. I think it’s over.”
Raghu: “Are you sure, or are you lying to me?”
Me: “No, man, why would I lie?”
Raghu: “Okay. Wish she could come again.”
Me: “Thanks,” I said with sarcasm.
Though I acted cool, I was still haunted by that one glimpse of her. I came home, vibing with my friends, laughing loudly, trying to forget—but somewhere in my heart, I could still feel her presence. She had unknowingly built a tiny home in a corner of my soul.
That night, I slept early, hoping for nothing, yet yearning for something.
The next day unfolded differently—a rainy morning, a perfect monsoon day.
Something inside me shifted. I woke up without any drama, early in the morning, like I had a silent appointment with fate.
My mom was genuinely surprised.
Mom: “Oh my God! What’s this?”
Me: “What?” I asked with a serious look.
Mom: “How did you wake up this early?”
Me: “I don’t know…”
Mom: “Anything special today? Any cricket match or movie?”
Me: “Nothing… I think I’m not sleepy because I slept early.”
She smirked, tilting her head, and said with a sarcastic smile, “Magic…”
I got ready as usual and set off for college. I didn’t know what compelled me to do this, but it happened.
As I walked to the bus stop, someone called out loudly, “Arey Sushanth!”
I turned back. It was Joshna, my sister, who lives about 200 meters away on our street.
Joshna: “Are you coming to college this early?”
Me: “Why not?”
Joshna: “Oh, I didn’t think you were coming to college today!”
Me: “Cool, stop it, akka.”
Joshna: “No, ra, I was just asking.”
Me: “I don’t know, I woke up, got ready without watching the clock, so I was here early.”
Joshna: “That’s good. Make it a habit, ra.”
Me: “I said I was early to the bus stop, not to college…”
Joshna: “I know you won’t change.”
Me: “Thank you, akka…”
With that sarcastic banter echoing behind us, we reached the bus stop. And then… There she was.
All of a sudden, my sight caught her—the girl, standing at the bus stop with a backpack. The moment stopped breathing. My heart skipped a beat and raced like thunder. And it began to rain.
People around us rushed for cover, umbrellas popping open like sudden fireworks. Joshna pulled my arm, “Come fast, ra!” But I couldn’t move. I was frozen.
There she was, like a poem standing in the rain. Her eyes held a quiet mystery, wide like monsoon skies. Her slightly damp hair danced in the breeze, clinging gently to her cheeks. Her dupatta, wet from the drizzle, wrapped around her like an artist’s final brushstroke. She wasn’t just beautiful—she was the monsoon personified.
She wasn’t a dream anymore. She stood there in reality, as the rain fell around her, yet her presence felt untouched by the chaos. A soft glow from the streetlight behind her made her seem celestial, as though she’d descended from another world just for that moment.
I forgot this world. I forgot I was a human living on Earth. I was drenched with rain, but I didn’t care. She was more than beautiful; she was a feeling I never knew I could feel. That moment redefined beauty for me.
The bus came. Everyone rushed to get in. I moved mechanically, eyes still glued to her. I got on the bus, stood at the door, and let the rain pour down on me. Through the wet, blurry glass, I saw her. And it felt like she saw me too.
I had never felt this free and happy in my entire life. This feeling was strange yet familiar, like I was meant to feel it all along. The ten-minute ride to Peddapalli felt like a microsecond. Staring at her through the window, I was floating.
Then, she vanished into the heavy crowd at the bus stand.
I didn’t know what to do. My legs gave up, and I sat down at the bus stand, drenched but feeling only the warmth of the moment I just lived.
I didn’t notice time pass. It was 10 AM when I reached college, an hour and a half late. Everyone was surprised, but strangely, the principal and lecturers didn’t say anything—maybe because of the heavy rain. Deep down, I felt everything happened just so I could see her beautiful face.
In class, I sat silently. Everyone took it as normal, but Raghu, my best friend, sensed the shift.
Raghu: “What happened? Did you see her?”
Me: (smiling) “Yes.”
Raghu: “I see that spark in your face, dude.”
Me: (blushing)
The lecturer came, but my world had changed. The rest of the class passed in a fog of dreams, thousands of thoughts swirling. Is she going home again? Will I ever see her again? How can I find her address? My thoughts never stopped.
When the bell rang, Raghu and I ran to the bus stand, waiting—hoping. But this evening was not in my hands. I didn’t see her.
I went home, disappointed. Even my family sensed something unusual.
Mom: “What happened?”
Me: “Nothing, amma.”
Mom: “You’re so quiet today. Are you okay?”
Me: “I’m fine, amma.”
Mom: “I think you got soaked in the rain. Take rest.”
Me: “Nothing like that, amma. I’m fine.”
Mom: “Go and sleep.”
Me: “Yes…” I said softly, and went to bed with dreams wide awake.
I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but if the rain could speak, it would whisper her name again. If fate is kind, it will send her again. Because once you’ve seen a girl like that, once you’ve felt her presence in the rain, no ordinary day can ever satisfy the soul.
To be continued…
Follow the journey where laughter turned into longing, and a single glimpse changed everything:
✨ Part 1 – When Life Was Just Mine
✨ Part 2 – The Voice That Woke My Soul
✨ Part 4 – The Smile That Spoke Everything
Feel the monsoon, the magic, and the mystery unfold... ☔💫
0 Comments
Thanks for your feedback. But Kindly do not enter any spam links in the comment box