"Beta, raincoat toh pehen ke jao."

They told him the summer would bring rain.


He worked at his toy car;
Stood on the red stool, stole his mother's mustard oil and lubricated the wheels.
On the fourth monday of that summer, he also stole some money and bought a ticket to 'Prem ka Sipahi' but never made it across the road, to Chandan Cinema.
He was only too scared.
That summer,the rains came down as he kept back the money in the purse.

One year passed.

He worked at his drawing.
He spent the afternoon in front of the TV watching Japanese cartoons with big eyes and the rest of the day sitting on his bed, with his Nataraj pencil, sketching out the same Japanese girl.
Every day, the girl kept looking better.
Soon he moved to shading and darkened the shadows that loomed over her eyes.
That summer, it rained very little.

One year passed.

He looked at the boy in red shorts running around with the football, from his bedroom window, hidden behind his blue curtains.
He noticed how everyone kept calling out his name. Each time the other boys thought of a funny joke they would shout out, "Abbey Saarang, ye joke sun-na.." and make small digs at each other. He laughed out of courtesy, that boy in the red shorts.
Through the hazy blue of the transparent curtain from his window, his stomach kept sinking and he wondered why they never called him down to play.
That summer, the group of boys kicked around in the mud as the rain came down upon their adolescent jokes. It rained quite a bit that summer.

One year passed.

He moved back and forth with the rhythm of the formulas.
His head was buzzing with the number of ions that could be contained in a Sodium atom and yet, in some part of his head he kept going over the fact that he wouldn't remember the formula the next day.
His lips were constantly moving.
As the rain lashed outside and broke his rhythm, he stopped for some saliva, sighed and gave in to the thunder outside. Secretly he wished the rain would continue forever so that his school might flood and exams would have to be cancelled.
That summer, it rained like hell.

Several years passed.


His back was giving in.
He looked sideways to look at his wife sitting next to him, sweating and mumbling something about how they should have taken the taxi. The small boy on her lap was fast asleep, his hands still clasped upon the pink comb he loved so dearly.
His own face was dripping, almost melting with the heat and he kept note about booking a taxi, the next time around.
As they reached the bus stop, he grabbed the little boy and strongly pounded down the stairs of the bus, turning around only slightly to make sure she was safe and out of the bus as well. The movement had woken up the little child and he now remained in that haze that summer and sleep bring with it.
The signboard right behind the bus stop read 'C ANDAN CINEMA', the 'H' having fallen off with the rains some years back.

With his son propped on his shoulders, he crossed the road to reach the empty, broken bungalow and glanced around for any sign of anyone he might have known. He imagined an older,wrinkled-up face of that boy in the red shorts.
Halfway across the yard,a small object sparkled in the summer sun and he picked it up; wiped the dust off with his beige shirt. The boy, now almost fully awake gazed at the broken red toy robot his father now held.
As his middle aged eyes took in the rusty gates of his old,childhood home, his body swam with all the years he seemed to have wasted to that routine. He was 40 now and surprisingly,nothing big or even remotely rich.
He paused to cry a little bit at how time had passed.



That summer the rains poured lightly, only tapping at the window panes as though asking them to come look at the man, kneeling outside in the yard and crying, for he had missed every single shower.