A Meeting in Monsoon

As the rain presented no signs of stopping, Deva found himself rushing in search for any roof. The street seemed to light up ahead, and Deva knew what it would lead to- The Palace of the God's Flower. Deva had never been to the outskirts of the town and had only fleetingly seen a troop of dancing courtesans in a wedding gathering when he was a teenager. Deva hurried towards the blinking pink and red lights, knowing he cannot afford to catch a bug. He had two courses to teach that semester and question papers to set for both before the end of the week.

The expensive blazer he had pulled over his head as a meek attempt to remain dry was thoroughly drenched. The lights became more colourful as he approached them- hues of green and purple brightened amidst the shades of pink. Surprisingly, only the pattering rain dared a sound. Deva was confused- evenings and nights are the busiest times for kothas. But, it seemed the palace had anticipated Deva's arrival and sprayed itself clean from the mundane flux of inebriated patrons whom Deva couldn't mentally prepare himself for being forced into a conversation. As Deva rushed into the main hall of the palace, he was met by an eerie reticence.

Deva looked around the dark court of the kotha, furiously washing off his perspiration mixed in with the rainwater from his eyes. 'From the looks of it, the kotha is closed for the night. But the lights outside the palace are still on. Someone must be around'. 

Deva sat down on a stair and removed his blazer and looked at it angrily. It was a terrible gift from his father, this blazer. Deva realised he needs to change. The wet clothes had him shivering.

"Is anyone here? See, I am a respectable professor who got caught in the rain unexpectedly. Could I sit under the roof until the rain halts?"

His voice echoed in the kotha. Deva's query was responded, albeit with a noticeable delay. "What do you teach, Mr Respectable Professor?"

The voice, Deva thought, was magical. It was sweet, but not docile. It was confident, but not impudent. Such etiquette of speech was an acquired elegance of a trained courtesan. The voice was followed by an approaching dim light from within the kotha.

"My name is Deva Kumar Mishra. Could I get some help, please?"

The dim light paired with soft footsteps neared and its source is revealed. An immensely attractive young woman, clearly more youthful than the 31-year-old Deva, holding a candelabrum enters the court of the kotha. Deva thought, "Look at these young girls, trapped in a soulless job of entertaining the sexual desires of strange men. If only they could come to the university instead."

"You didn't answer my question, Mr Respectable Professor. What is it that you teach?"

"Miss, I am very wet from the rain, and I could get ill from the cold. Could you help me with a towel first?"

"Not until you tell me what you teach."

"I teach biology at the town university. Do you have a towel I could use?"

"How fascinating! I will fetch you a towel and some clothes. You should keep your wet shoes out of the door, Mr Respectable Professor." said the woman as she placed the candelabrum on a stand sitting on a corner of the court.

"Oh, yes, of course. Thank you so much."

Deva saw the woman leave his sight and into the rooms at the back. He kept his blazer and shoes outside the door. The voice from the woman was heard again, "Sit in the court, Mr Respectable Professor. I am getting your clothes."

An embarrassed Deva quickly responded, "Oh no, Miss. I am no patron. Just an unlucky man caught in bad weather."

The woman replied, "A man who finds it important to adorn his introduction with an adjective like 'respectable' when in a kotha is not a patron? Colour me flabbergasted, Professor!"