The romance of the soil and the rain

It was a typical June afternoon. The Monsoon was tipping off every now & then, not pouring endlessly, though. The air was full of the fresh, homey scent of soil, which was intertwining with the rain as if the two things were a whole and not different. It was cold, a soothing cold that you embrace with a hot cup of tea and instantly lose yourself in the moment. It feels like the hug that you're craving irrespective of the person. You know how sometimes you just wanna be hugged, be it anyone, that embrace feels like the safest place to be. Such weather and this vibe relax you no matter how tedious your work is. The irksome boss, the shrewd gossiping colleagues, the mundanity of a typical work day vanishes when outside feels like a paradise. The urge to go out to the terrace, lift your head, eyes closed and try to inhale the romance of the rain and the soil as much as possible. Yeah, it was that afternoon, and I was only half ahead in my day. Clearly, I couldn't resist going out, so I ditched the rest of my day and decided to set free.

Within a few minutes, I was outside the building and had the widest smile. Nothing, I was just walking, breathing, indulging whilst not at all hiding the kind of relief it brought me. Of course, I was on my way to the coffee shop as it felt like coffee even though I am a tea person forever and ever. I wanted that hot cup, but I was in no hurry to reach there. It felt like how it must feel for a prisoner being back in his life with his people with a sentence of up to 10-12 years, you know, the kind of prisoners who are framed and sentenced away. Every step made me stop and breathe in the view, and every other step kept me walking toward the coffee shop. That was the freest I had felt in a while.

The coffee shop appeared moderately busy from a distance. It wasn't only me who dropped everything just to enjoy this weather with a toasty beverage. People ought to lead better lives than I do, taking spontaneous adventure trips rather than speculating every aspect of their existence; Waking up early for a mesmerising sunrise among the mountains and merging into a perfect sunset at the beach overlooking the ocean. I am one of those who will try to find meaning in the orange traces of a beautiful sunset on the crashing waves that seem still when gazing from a distance instead of actually grasping the spectacularly inspiring view in front of me. I will look away from the most obvious thing but paint a whole picture with what's left behind or usually overlooked.

I was steadily approaching the coffee shop. I could feel the inside aura by the reflections of people chatting, shaking hands, clicking selfies or conducting a meeting on the glass doors of the shop. Whether it was a group of friends loudly enjoying each other's company or love birds snuggling up in a cosy corner, I could feel it all in the air. I stopped to breathe in the crisp climate again with my back against one of the glass doors. I looked around, smiled to myself and decided to quickly get a coffee to go to not miss much of the feel. I turned around to enter the coffee shop and froze the next instant. I could not believe my eyes. All the joy I was thoroughly relishing came down trembling before I could fathom it, just like an earthquake. I hadn't moved for over 15 seconds. Every vein in my body shrunk; the blood grew thick and stopped moving. My whole being ceased to function, and I suddenly longed for captivity.

The North-East side of the shop was crowded by what seemed like a group of corporates from a distance. They must have been discussing important matters, litigious ones, I thought. They had three laptops opened, a few loose papers crumbled all over the table, and each seemed to present some sort of numbers. They were moving around the table. During that, I caught a glimpse of the table behind them. In the first glare, I wasn't sure what I saw, and I had to scrutinise again to confirm who was sitting at that table. So I kept staring to catch a few more glimpses between the corporates' movements. It was a woman. It was the woman.

I had met her when I was barely 17. Oh, to be that young again, to be that vigorous again. What a beautiful yet enigmatic age it is, oh, to be 17 again! It was the time of my life. It wasn't long time-wise, but it was the biggest, warmest, & almost entirely invisibly maddening period. With recently familiarised puberty and highly volatile doses of testosterone falling off literally every 5 seconds or every pretty girl came across. Needless to say, I had fallen head over heels with this girl sitting in the dark North-East corner of the shop. She had a black hoodie on, covering most of her head, yet a few golden strands were falling loosely on her face, and she was tucking it back every now & then. Her jeans was ankle-length with a pair of black laced boots that gave her overall height an approximate 3-inch rise. She was entangling the strands of her hair with her fingers anxiously as she continued to read, completely forgetting the rest of the world. The moles near the nape of her neck had somehow grown vehement; it seemed as if to protect her beauty from creepy stalkers like me.

Her eyebrows were pressed down hard in the middle of her forehead as she went through the climax, her lips parted as she came across the twist and exhaled a long breath when finished. Her eyes remained open, wide & alert all this time, and they sparkled when she reached the highest point. It seemed so erotic from where I was standing; in reality, she was buried deep under the book. My system collapsed when I saw her after I didn't even remember how long it had been. The last time was when we broke things off as we already knew it was good only while it lasted. And that's that; today is the day I see her after all that. It wasn't the greatest love of my life; it wasn't the love that broke me so bad that I couldn't yet pick up the pieces. It did not turn me into a mad man, shallow and inconspicuous. I savoured it. It was like the Classic New York Baked Cheesecake, and we devoured every last bit of it. It felt so good. It felt like a dream that cannot be shattered until we want it to. A beard that cannot be trimmed unless we want to, a game cannot be finished till we throw it out. It was like a round of Uno played only with special cards except the skip one.

My heart was beating so fast that I felt sick. I needed to sit down for deep breathing, but I could not pull away, I couldn't take my eyes off of her. She still had that bracelet on, after all. I knew it was now or never. I found whatever courage I could gather. As soon as I was about to open the door, I heard a voice, "Poppy, poppy, wake up, wake up." I was so set on my aim that I neglected the voice and once again tried to open the door. The voice rung again. "Poppy, it's been a while, and you zoned out again. Wake up." I was adamant; I fought; I wanted to see her, to touch her, oh how it felt like when I touched her. If I had been a wounded soldier in a war, her touch would heal all my wounds again. Oh, I loved her touch. A strong bolt of shake woke me up. Franki was standing in front of me. "Poppy, it's time for you to get back to bed. You're sitting here on this chair by the window for an hour, looking at the rain again." 

Franki took me to my bed and helped me fall asleep. I am just an ordinary old man in a nursing home. All my memories vanished, but this one kept coming to me again and again. I guess it's what kept me alive all this time. What a special thing is, the first love. There's a first for everything, but nothing is as breathtaking as these first ones ever can be. I was the happiest person then. Full of flaws and free of insecurities. All that mattered to me was her; maybe it still does.