The Convenience Theory

2. The Storm

There are times, when my life feels like a long, unending Shakespearean tragic comedy.

There is such humour in the insufferable situations which I somehow land in that I just don't know whether to laugh or cry.

This is a time like that.

It has been about two weeks since the performance of our college play. Tonight, was the award ceremony. I had been so excited about it.

I had especially asked for my grandmother's white saree to wear tonight. It suits my slender frame perfectly. My hair was in a fancy bun. With my brown eyes and oval face, my grandmother told me I looked like my mother did when she wore it during her wedding reception. So, basically, I looked really pretty.

And now, three hours down, I look like some freaky, old ghost lady in white wandering midst torrential rain. Somebody could make a meme on me right now. My hair is now plastered all over my face and my wet white saree is sticking to my body.

My family wasn't home today and I was done with my mid-sems this week, so I was to go out for dinner with friends before the unpredictable Pune rains decided to pour down on all my plans.

Thankfully Anamika dropped me at the chowk near my house. Although it was just a five-minute walk after, it was enough to completely drench me. I managed to walk without drowning in a gutter or getting squashed under a falling tree, to the only place near and decent enough to eat at, Café Goodluck.

The stares I get as I stand outside reaffirm my belief that I indeed look like a freaky, old ghost lady in white. My frustrated expression and my smudged black eyeliner weren't helping it either. So much for 24-hour water protection, I roll my eyes wiping my cosmetic drained cheeks.

Ignoring the stares, I slowly step inside the crowded place. Even though it is a rainy, Thursday night, Goodluck is still crammed today. Cons of being at one of the most iconic Irani cafes in Pune.

I search for a table I could share with someone when I spot one far back, with only a guy occupying it. I attempt to rush towards it before somebody else does, only that I end up looking like a penguin trying to wobble without tripping.

Shivering I settle down on the chair facing the guy who doesn't seem to notice me. His eyes are shut and is listening to some song on his earphones, which by his humming and tapping of fingers on the table, I recognise is an old Hindi track. The humming and tapping too is in a perfect rhythm.

Suddenly feeling a chill run down my body as the wet fabric sticks to my cold skin, I groan, vigorously rubbing my arms to get some warmth in them.

"I am sorry."

My head jerks up to look at the guy sitting at my table, "Huh?"

"I am sorry. I didn't realise I was singing aloud." He says apologetically, taking out his earphones.

"Oh! Actually, I am sorry I just sat down without asking you." I exclaim "And it wasn't you. You weren't that loud. It's just I am very cold."

"Rains?" he asks looking outside the window.

I nod, as I am hit by a series of sneezes, "Excuse me." I wipe my nose with a tissue.

Grinning he takes off his jacket and hands it to me, "Here"

"No, it's okay."

"Give it to me later, I wouldn't like it if you die of hypothermia because of me." He smiles.

I hesitantly take it. I wouldn't have if I were not shivering. As the warmth of the jacket wraps around me, I have to resist myself from sighing. It was so soft and warm and clean and I could hide in it forever.