The girl in the rain (Part 6)

Scene 16

“You don’t understand. I’m not used to this”, her voice was getting ballistic now.

“I don’t understand what you want me to understand. How does it really matter?”, even he was beginning to lose his temper now.

“Does nothing get into your head? I have been shouting my head off for the last half an hour. My friends dislike me”, she was exasperated.

“Wait a second. How can your friends dislike you? Isn’t there an apparent contradiction in what you are saying? The people you are talking about are just jealous of your success. And frankly, my dear, you shouldn’t give a damn”, he twisted the last line into his baritone voice, and smiled.

“Everything is a joke for you. You have never understood me. And never will”, her voice was calmer now.

This sounded the alarm bells. He was more somber now,” I’m sorry. We are different people. We think about things differently. But our friendship has been so tightly knit for 15 years, because of that, not despite that. I know you are perturbed because some people are not happy that you achieved something they did not. But that doesn’t take away from your achievement. You are the one who achieved it. They may or may not like it. But why do you care about them? Just remember the reaction your parents gave when you told the news to them. Or your brother. Or your sister. Isn’t that worth so much more than what the others feel?”

A long silence followed. “Those who matter don’t mind, and those who mind don’t matter”, he lowered his voice as the waiter placed the bill on the table.

“But how can you not care about people’s opinion?”, she pleaded.

“I do care. But the one person whose opinion I care about is sitting right across this table, spoiling a nice hot cup of coffee by not drinking it”, he smiled.

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Her mind returned to the present time. So much had transpired since this meeting. She remembered the fortuitous phone call that she had received the next night. The words from the call still rang loud in her mind - “Hello? It seems your friend has met with an accident…”

Scene 17

“Mummy, where is Dad?”, cried the little girl from the doorstep.

“He’s gone out for some work”, a feminine voice reverberated from inside the house.

The girl looked down on the floor, and her doll lying on it, split into two. The sight drove her to tears. She picked up the pieces, embraced it to her chest and began to weep. The sound of her sniffles was interrupted by the screeching sound of friction. She lifted her head and saw the boy. Her crying rose by another decibel level at the sight of the culprit who had led to the massacre of her beloved toy. She had tripped over the steps while running to escape from the interfering fool’s intrusion, and fallen over the doll, splitting it into two. As the scene played back in her mind, she was repulsed even more by the ignominious creature and the hideous sound his shoes were making against the ground, as he inched closer.

“Oh. I’m so sorry”, he uttered, peering over her shoulder, catching a glance of the broken toy.

“Get lost”, she shouted, throwing her doll back onto the floor, and ran back inside to seek medical attention for her bruised elbow.

Having cried her heart out after the burning sensation of the antiseptic had played its part, the little girl’s concern for her treasured toy returned. As her mother was placing the first aid box back, she ran towards the doorstep. She couldn’t believe what she saw. The doll was in one piece. It was a miracle. She picked it up, and embraced it, an innocent smile adorning her face. As she turned to go back, her eyes fell on the boy who was sitting at the neighboring house’s doorstep, rubbing his fingers against each other in an attempt to take the adhesive off.

Scene 18

“What did you say?”, I urged, despite her having spoken the words with crystal clarity.

“It means you should not care about the approval or disapproval of others. If you always carry the fear of disapproval from the other person in your mind, you would never be able to be yourself, whether the other person is a man or a woman. Why do you care what I think about you? In all likelihood, we are never going to meet again in life. So, for these few hours of interaction, why be what you are not? Why just not be what you are?”, she asserted, weighing each word.

As the strange girl took another sip off the glass, I was finding it hard to digest the beamers she had hurled at me. Word after word had hit me. After two minutes of embarrassing silence, I finally found some sanity returning to my sense of speech.

“May be you are right. But all this is so logical. Why has no one told this to me earlier? Or why hasn’t it occurred to me by myself”, I expressed my bewilderment.

“Its uncommon to be common, difficult to be simple. And sometimes, we need someone to walk into our lives, and shrug us off from our slumber, to flesh out what matters for us and what does not”, her voice went into a low pitch.

I was again at a loss of words. A long lull followed. The blaring of a car’s horn came to my rescue. Some sound is better than no sound. I turned my head and saw my friend Nitin waving at me from his car. Whatever was blocking the roads had apparently been taken care off. I was a little disappointed at a sight at which I should have been pleasantly relieved. Nonetheless, it was time for me to go.

“My friend is here. I should leave now”, I loathingly asserted, getting back on my feet.

“Great. Nice meeting you, Hiten. All the best”, she had finally managed to remember the name.

I walked up to the car. As Nitin took hold of my bag and went back to place it in the car’s rear, I turned my head to catch a final glance of the great teacher who had shaken me from within. She had taught me something so simple, yet so profound. I found her wiping her tears again. I shouted ,”Can we drop you somewhere?”

“No, thanks for the offer. The rain has stopped. And your friend's arrival shows the routes are open again. I can walk now”, she said, evidently making tremendous effort to stall her tears to raise her voice.

“Where exactly are you going?”, I queried.

“To meet a friend. He died today after three years of coma”, she turned her back towards me and began to walk.

Thanks for bearing with me for almost a month, and having reached this far. In case you hate the story, or like it, appreciate it or want to trash it, compliment it or criticize it, please leave your comments. The author would be highly obliged. :)