Nothing Like a Cup of Coffee and Some Rain

As I gaze outside my window to witness a torrential downpour, with the breeze gently blowing raindrops towards my face, I reminisced the moments of the start of a friendship for a lifetime.

It was a rainy day very much like this one when we met. I was new to Mumbai and wasn't used to torrential downpours like these. It wasn't this way in Unnao, a city by the banks of the mighty Ganges, where being the daughter of an influential businessman had its perks (like a car every time you stepped out of the house).

I had just started settling in and adjusting to the new way of life, namely commuting to work and back to the shared makeshift apartment in Khargar by walking to Kurla station and taking a local from there to Khargar. After all, the-running-away-from-home-when-being-pressurized-to-get-married-with-the-local-goon-for-business'-sake-package did not include free commute from work to office.

I was walking to the Kurla station on the way back home after a typical, tiring, Tuesday at Sofitel Hotel where I work when it began to rain cats and dogs. I had no umbrella (or any other 'ammo') so I took cover under the nearest roadside tea shop that I found (I was already soaked by this time).

As I stood under the minimal structure lost in thought about how life would have been if I hadn't run away from home, a man in a pink formal shirt and black trousers (who I'm guessing had looked better earlier in the day), now soaked from head to toe, came and took cover under the same polyester structure destiny had in mind for us.

As soon as the rain could no longer reach him, he emptied his office bag to see whether everything was okay. A notepad with Tata Consultancy Services written on it fell out. I picked it up and handed it to him. He smiled and said a polite thank you, which struck a chord with me (I guess because in Unnao your help is dismissed with a dirty paan-filled smile).

After another five(awkward) minutes of silence he decided to break the ice.

"Didn't expect it to rain today, eh?"

"Nope," I replied.

"Me neither. Despite being born and brought up here, Mumbai still has surprises in store for me. That's why I love this city."

"I'm new to the city. Haven't yet been able to decode the weather of this city."

"I'm Ishaan, by the way. And you are?" he asked.

I wondered whether it would be a good idea to give him any information about me. I guess the be-careful-he-might-be-dangerous North Indian genes in me were speaking. But his demeanor told me otherwise, so I gave it to him anyways.

"I'm Raina."

"You work here closeby?"he inquired.

"Yup, I work here in BKC the Sofitel Hotel."

"I work here in BKC too. These companies overwork us but don't pay enough."

"Tell me about it. I've just moved in here. And I'm new to the concept of living independently, so you can guess," I said with a smirk on my face.

"I still remember those initial weeks when I decided to rent an apartment and live away from my parents too. You know, because one needs to learn to stand up on his own feet."

"True," I agreed.

After another awkward silence, he asked me, "Have you been on a tour of the city yet?"

"I wish I could. But there's so much going on right now. No time. And plus, I don't have a guide to take me around," I laughed.

"Seriously? That's your excuse for not taking a tour of probably the best city you'll ever get the opportunity to live in?" he inquired.

"I will go sometime, hopefully."

"I mean, there's so much to see! Marine Drive, The Gateway of India, Juhu, Colaba Causeway, the Hanging Gardens, the chai and Wada Pav of Mumbai... How you can resist the temptation is beyond my understanding, really," he smiled.

"Well, at least I got to witness the city during a rainfall. I don't think there can be anything as beautiful as nature sharing her joy with us," I said, all the while taking in the mesmerizing beauty of the rain. It was the first time in all 24 years of my life that I'd taken notice of how wonderful it was to see everyone share the joy which God seemed to be emptying out of gunny bags from his backyard.

"Coffee?" I asked Ishaan, interrupting his thoughts. He was no doubt reliving a moment in the past, perhaps with his parents, or just noticing for the first time how serene and calm it was.

"Sure," he smiled back, "Nothing like a cup of coffee and some rain."