The rain came down like bullets.

Then she called herself an antaryami, the one who knows things not known to anyone else, the one who can predict the future, because she had said it would rain—even though the sky was perfectly sunny. I looked at her, at her piercing eyes that looked right into one’s soul. I wanted her to know my soul, but how could she when every time our eyes met that way, our eyes riveted?

Those little brown eyes were all I could see. Like every other day, I looked at her insatiably, trying to find what made her the way she was. I wanted to know what was it that made her transcendent, her thoughts ardent, her actions decent yet playful. I was always looking for the chance to be one with her. I was unsuccessful many times, but something in her made me want to try again.

The rain started to hit our faces hard. The smell of the wet soil, the grass, and dust combined with the rain to make the aroma in the surrounding immensely rejuvenating. It felt like the smell of a room unopened for years, which once opened suddenly transformed into something heavenly.

Even today when it rains, the smell transports me back to the time, to that day.

Then, unexpectedly we were diverted by the people around us.

People were running towards the nearest sanctuary, to get away from the rain. I thought of taking refuge in the closest shop too, but it didn’t seem like anyone would let us in. It was a pandemic after all, and the shop had too many people already.

I asked her, "Do you mind sitting in the rain for a while?"

She looked at me with those curious little sparkling eyes and said, "Look everyone is running. Look at those kids, they are running, these old people, they are leaving the park, and you want to stay here?"

"Yes, do you want to stay with me?"

She thought for a while; took quite a long time. We were already wet by then. The rain was accompanied by the strong west wind; her hair was flowing towards the east.

She didn’t say anything about staying or not, but there she was beside me, closing her eyes, and letting her hair flow. I wanted to be there with her for a long time. The rain. The hills surrounding us. The people running. The children screaming. The wind blowing. Life happening at that moment. That moment everything seemed so magnificent and peaceful. The wind, the sudden compulsion to scream, to make any word audible, the rush in the surroundings was creating much chaos but I was finding only tranquility, bliss, a sense of utmost satisfaction. She was still closing her eyes. I thought she was enjoying the sound of silence and chaos, rainfall and howling of the wind, the touch of the rain, the cold in the body, and the warmth at the places where our bodies touched.

I looked in front of me and around me. The hills looked happy, as though just brought to life. The trees were green, the leaves too, there were green everywhere. Many times, even when I was with her, I had lent my heart to those big hills, and I always had too many questions to ask: where they came from, where would they go, how long had they been staying there, and did they adore us as much as we adored them? We used to be together, yet alone.

She rested her shoulder against mine, still closing her eyes.

The rain was beating everyone around. The birds were nested, the humans were sheltered in the shop right next to the park, but they were all wet because the rain was so sudden and heavy that no matter how fast they ran, they got drenched.

So the people were wet and there was little space for accommodation in the shop. I wondered if they were even afraid of this deadly virus right now, huddled so closely together.

I wondered how humans forget something with time, even a life changing event, a heavy rainfall, a wind. They forgot the deadly virus.

The road was soon muddy. I was thinking about how she would walk this road with her slippery slippers.

She hadn't thought of any of these details. She didn’t care about the hills, and the crowd in the shop, about the sudden stopping of chirping of birds. Or maybe she did and I didn’t really know.

She told me once how she had always found music in the rain and rejoiced every moment of it. I had seen her jumping in puddles, listening to rain pattering on the window sill, rejoicing with each pitter platter. Then, she would write her name in the fog. I wondered why she never wrote mine.

The rain was coming down lighter now and people had started to leave their shelters. The sound of the city was back on. Bodies were wet and people were shivering. We were too. They were struggling to cross the path, the muddy, raw, slippery street which needed to be crossed to reach the main road. Parents were guiding their children, the children were falling, getting up again, and walking. Most of them were covered in the mud.

She was still closing her eyes.

I looked at her. A living heart, a great kind soul, a peaceful, teeny-tiny piece of dust in this universe, someone who enjoyed these little things yet was afraid to face many of them. But at that moment, neither rain stopped her nor the strong howling wind nor the chaos.

I wanted to close my eyes and stay with her. Right when I did, she touched my palm and whispered, "I enjoyed this. Thank you."

"Why did you hesitate when I asked you to stay?"

"You catch a cold too fast."

"But you enjoy the rain too much."

"Yes. A bit more when I am with you."

I smiled. She was looking at me shyly. I looked at the sky, the dark clouds were no more, the sky was clear, the birds had started to chirp again and people had crossed the muddy road. We were the only ones there.

We silently agreed to stay there for a while longer, holding each other's hand, our eyes closed.

I wanted to become one with her at that moment, with everything in existence. My heart was overwhelmed. Tears started flowing through my closed eyes, as I held her hand more tightly. Time stopped for us at that moment. We felt infinite.