Girl who saw the rain for the first time

I mentioned last time that “I’m strictly a prose person”. Well, I’ve attempted a bit of poetry. It’s in free-form, or as I like to call it, prose form. It’s one of the very few poems that I’ve written in my life.

A commuter takes a local home, a day after the...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia) 


I saw her on the train,

Sitting two seats away from me.

She was seeing the rain for the first time.

I know it, for her eyes were huge as she looked out of the window.


Having no one to make conversation with,

I moved over to her side and smiled.

I was her first friend on earth.

I know it, because she blazed with warmth as she returned the smile.


“What a trouble! Rains will create traffic as usual!”

I wanted to say this; a conventional conversation-starter in Mumbai.

But I refrained, sensing that the convention would be lost on her.

She won’t understand.


“Beautiful rains!” I said instead, resorting to convention for the “artistic” types.

And she nodded excitedly, and added, “Best time to stop at the bakery.”

She had clearly never tasted cake before

And was waiting for an occasion as special as rains.


She soaked in the wet-mud smell,

Looked at me, and asked, “So…What do you do?”

Perhaps she sensed my need for convention.

I launched into a description of what I did.


She couldn’t have ever met an engineer,

For she listened with rapt attention,

Nodding and asking questions at right places

And I had no choice, but to believe that she hadn’t tuned me out.


“I am an engineer too!” the exclamation caught me by surprise,

More so, because it was an “exclamation!”, than the meaning.

I wondered whether I had ever been as thrilled about my job.

I had a vague vision of myself freshly out of college.


We were near my destination now,

And I got up to brave the sea of people lining to get to the door.

She got up with me and smiled

And swam across that sea gracefully.


“It was nice meeting you!” she said on the platform.

She waved, turned and left, probably for the said bakery.

I turned too, making my way out of the station

Thinking subconsciously about muffins and coffee.


Then suddenly I stopped and wondered

Why I was feeling confused, wondered what made her different from me.

A few moments, and then I exhaled; of course she was different.

I know it, for she was alive… And I was merely breathing.

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