The first rain arrived like an old friend—unexpected, yet familiar. It kissed the terracotta roof of Gulmohar Villa, trickled down the bougainvillea vines, and danced across the courtyard where Aroha stood, holding a chipped teacup in her hand.
She closed her eyes, letting the cool breeze wrap around her like a memory. The scent of wet earth, jasmine, and something else — something like... longing.
Inside the kitchen, Thakuma’s voice floated out, dramatic as ever.
Thakuma: "Aroha! Chai thanda ho raha hai. Aur baarish ke liye romantic lines likhne ka waqt hamesha hai, par peene ke liye garam chai chahiye!"
[“Aroha! The tea is getting cold. And it is always the time to write romantic lines for rain, but one needs hot tea to drink it!”]
{“Thakuma” means grandmother in Bengali}
Aroha smiled and walked back in, still lost in thought.
Aroha: "Thakuma, baarish aur chai ka toh rishta hai. Ek thoda sa bhigaata hai, dusra thoda sa sambhaalta hai."
[“Thakuma, there is a relationship between rain and tea. One drenches us a little, the other handles us a little.”]
Thakuma raised an eyebrow, impressed.
Thakuma: "Wah, meri poet poti. Bas, ab ek achha sa ladka bhi likh le apni zindagi mein. Kahaani complete ho jaayegi."
[ "Wow, my poet grand-daughter. That's it, now write about a good boy in your life. The story will be complete."]
Aroha rolled her eyes and sipped her tea, just as Tara burst through the front door — hair wet, lipstick slightly smudged, and as dramatic as a monsoon movie heroine.
Tara: "GUESS WHAT! School ka first day and guess who is back in Goa? Your childhood dost, the only boy who ever made you forget Rabindranath and Rumi—Vardhan Malhotra."
[ "GUESS WHAT! School ka first day and guess who is back in Goa? Your childhood friend, the only boy who ever made you forget Rabindranath and Rumi—Vardhan Malhotra."]
Aroha nearly dropped her cup.
Aroha: "Kya?!"
[“What?!”]
Tara: "Haan! Vapas Goa mein. Same school. Same class. Bas ab thoda zyada tall, thoda zyada charming, aur thoda zyada... dikhne mein wow."
[ "Yes! Back in Goa. Same school. Same class. Just now a little taller, a little more charming, and a little more... wow.”]
Aroha turned to the window, heart thudding louder than the rain.
---
Cut to: Across the Road, That Same Moment
Vardhan adjusted the camera strap around his neck and looked out from the small balcony of the rented bungalow his family had moved into. Right across the road — she.
There she was. Aroha Roy. All grown up and still the same. A mug in her hand, a soft glow on her face, and that quiet smile.
He raised his camera slowly. Click.
Vardhan (to himself): "Dus saal aur ek baarish baad bhi... tu wahi hai, Aroha."
["Ten years and one rain after…you are the same, Aroha”]
His mother called from inside, but Vardhan stayed still, watching her through the curtain of rain.
He had come back for closure, but suddenly, the past didn’t feel finished at all.
Aroha was still staring out the window, lost in a storm of thoughts. Tara flopped on the jute swing chair, wringing her dupatta.
Tara: "Earth to Aroha. Tu kuch bolegi? Ya main bas yahan Bollywood heroine ki tarah narrate karti rahu?"
["Earth to Aroha. Will you say something? Or should I just keep narrating here like a Bollywood heroine?"]
Aroha (softly): "Woh sach mein... wapas aa gaya?"
["Wow really... did he come back?”]
Tara (grinning): "Yes, meri jaan. Vardhan Malhotra. Wahi shaitaan ladka jiske saath tu cycle race karti thi, aur phir chupke letters likhti thi — remember?"
["Yes, my love. Vardhan Malhotra. The same devilish boy with whom you used to race cycle and then secretly write letters - remember?"]
Aroha (blushing): "Tara!"
Tara: "Kya? Main toh sirf yaad dila rahi hoon. Aur waise bhi, yeh toh universe ka clear sign hai. Tum dono ek hi school mein, ek hi baarish mein, aur ek dusre ke saamne wapas… uff, full filmy setup!"
[ "What? I am just reminding you. Anyway, this is a clear sign of the universe. Both of you in the same school, in the same rain, and back in front of each other... uff, a complete filmy setup!”]
Aroha didn’t reply. She picked up the old wooden tray from the table, trying to appear unaffected.
Aroha: "Main Thakuma ke liye biscuits le aati hoon."
["I will bring biscuits for Thakuma."]
Tara raised a knowing eyebrow but said nothing. As Aroha disappeared into the kitchen, Tara whispered to herself.
Tara: "Bas kar Aroha. Tere aankhon ka monsoon mujhe sab kuch bata raha hai.”
[“Just stop it. Your eyes are telling me everything about the monsoon.”]
The kitchen smelled of elaichi chai and freshly baked nankhatai. Aroha walked in, hands shaking just slightly as she arranged the biscuits on the tray — square, floral-edged, the kind Thakuma liked with her 4 PM tea.
Her thoughts weren’t on the biscuits.
Aroha (murmuring): "Vardhan... sach mein wapas aa gaya."
["Vardhan... I have really come back.
The kettle hissed softly, like a sigh. She blinked, realizing she had poured too much milk into the teapot.
Thakuma (from behind): "Doodh kam hota hai beta, par dil ke emotions nahi. Sab kuch zyada ho gaya hai tumhare andar."
["Milk is less, but there are no emotions in the heart. Everything has become excessive inside you."]
Aroha turned, startled. Thakuma was leaning against the doorframe, her silver hair in a loose braid, a jasmine gajra tucked behind her ear.
Aroha (clearing her throat): "Aap chupke sun rahi thi?"
[“Were you listening secretly?”]
Thakuma (smirking): "Beta, main toh chai ke liye aa rahi thi. Tumhare chehre ka haal toh darwaze pe khade ho kar bhi samajh aa gaya."
[“I was coming for tea. I could understand the condition of your face even after standing at the door."]
Aroha looked down, suddenly sixteen again, nervous and shy.
Aroha (muttering): "Bas... achanak se sab yaad aa gaya."
[ "Just like that... suddenly I remembered everything.”]
Thakuma (gently): "Pyaar aise hi hota hai. Kahi bhi chhupa lo, baarish ki tarah wapas aa jata hai — sab kuch bheegota hua."
["Love happens like this. Wherever you hide, it comes back like rain—making everything soaked."]
Aroha gave her a half-smile, eyes misty.
Aroha: "Woh kya soch raha hoga, mujhe dekh kar? Kya usse bhi sab yaad hoga?"
[ "What would he be thinking, seeing me? Will he also remember everything?"]
Thakuma (with a wink): "Agar uski aankhon mein dikh gaya na, toh dekh lena, woh bhi teri tarah chhupane ki koshish karega."
[ "If I see it in his eyes, then see, he will also try to hide it like you."]
They walked back toward the verandah, where Tara had now curled up with a romance novel and a suspiciously smug expression.
Tara: "Chalo ladies, chai aur gossip dono ready hain. Par main bol rahi hoon, kal ka school scene toh ekdum blockbuster hone wala hai."
["Come on ladies, tea and gossip both are ready. But I am telling you, tomorrow's school scene is going to be a blockbuster."]
Thakuma (teasingly): "Bas tu popcorn le aana, Tara. Baaki drama toh in dono ke aankhon mein already shuru ho chuka hai."
["Just go and get the popcorn, Tara. The rest of the drama has already started in the eyes of both of them."]
Aroha sighed but couldn't help the tiny smile tugging at her lips.
Outside, the rain had paused — but inside her, something had just begun again.
Verandah, Early Evening
Tara blew on her cup of tea dramatically.
Tara: "Matlab socho... kal class ka first period, teacher ke peechhe se Vardhan walk in kare — slow motion mein. Aur tum dono ek dusre ko dekho... background mein Arijit Singh baj raha ho mentally."
["Meaning, think about it... tomorrow in the first period of class, Vardhan walks in behind the teacher - in slow motion. And you both look at each other... Arijit Singh is playing mentally in the background."]
Aroha (dryly): "Tujhe har cheez mein slow motion kyun chahiye?"
["Why do you need slow motion in everything?”]
Tara (grinning): "Emotional impact, darling. Tension build hoti hai. Mujhe toh lagta hai tumhare dono ke saamne ek invisible baarish ka cloud banega kal."
["Emotional impact, darling. Tension builds up. I think an invisible rain cloud will form in front of both of you tomorrow."]
Thakuma chuckled into her tea.
Thakuma: "Tara, tujh mein toh director banne ka full talent hai. Bas thoda patience seekh le."
["Tara, you have full talent to become a director. Just learn a little patience.”]
Tara: "Thakuma, patience mujhe sirf nankhatai khate waqt aata hai. Baaki sab fast forward mein chahiye."
["Thakuma, I only get patience while eating Nankhatai. Everything else needs to be done fast."]
Aroha shook her head with a small smile and reached for a biscuit. But her mind was far from the crisp sweetness.
Aroha (softly): "Main toh soch bhi nahi pa rahi... kya bolungi usse."
[“I am not even able to think... what should I say to him”]
Tara (mock serious): "Simple. Tum bolo — Hi Vardhan. Tum badal gaye ho. Lekin main ab bhi wohi hoon, jiske letters tumne kabhi nahi padhe."
["Simple. You say - Hi Vardhan. You have changed. But I am still the same person whose letters you have never read."]
Thakuma (chuckling): "Arre wah. Full-on dramatic heroine!"
Aroha groaned and hid her face in her hands.
Aroha: "Main aisa kuch nahi bolne waali hoon."
Tara: "Toh phir kya bolne wali ho?"
Aroha (quietly): "Shayad... kuch nahi."
["I am not going to say anything like this."
“So then what are you going to say?”
“Maybe…nothing”]
There was a pause. The only sound was of distant waves and the light rustling of rain-kissed trees. Thakuma looked at her granddaughter, really looked.
Thakuma (gently): "Beta, kabhi kabhi kuch na kehna bhi ek tareeka hota hai sab kuch kehne ka."
[“Sometimes not saying anything is also a way to say everything."]
Aroha met her eyes, searching for the courage she hadn’t realized she’d need.
Tara (softly now): "Tu bol na bol... aankhon se toh sab kuch waise bhi keh diya tha, Aroha. Jab uska naam suna, uss waqt jo teri aankhon mein tha... woh main kabhi bhool nahi sakti."
["You should say it... I had said everything through my eyes anyway, Aroha. When I heard his name, whatever was in your eyes at that time... I can never forget it.”]
Aroha looked down, fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. Outside, the sky had turned a darker blue — not gloomy, just full. Like something waiting to pour.
Aroha (almost a whisper): "Mujhe dar lagta hai. Woh sab wapas kholne ka... jo main band kar chuki thi."
["I am afraid to open back everything that I had closed."]
Thakuma: "Dar toh hamesha lagega. Par, kuch cheezein hoti hi hai baarish ki tarah. Tum chaaho ya na chaaho... woh laut aati hai. Bas, bheegne ki himmat honi chahiye."
["You will always feel scared. But, some things happen just like the rain. Whether you like it or not... it comes back. You just need to have the courage to rain."]
Tara reached out and gave her hand a light squeeze.
Tara: "Kal bas dekh lena. Shayad tum dono ko ek baar phir se bheegna hi hai."
["Just check it out tomorrow. Maybe you both will have to see them again."] (Maybe you both will be drenched again")
Aroha nodded, barely. Just enough to acknowledge it.
---
Outside, the rain returned — a little softer this time. Like a song that knows it has time.
---
Thakuma rose slowly from her cane chair, brushing imaginary crumbs from her crisp cotton saree. Her eyes twinkled as she looked at the two girls.
Thakuma: "Main zara baagh mein dekh kar aati hoon... kal ka paani kahaan bhar gaya hai. Aroha, baad mein mere saath tulsi ke neeche diya rakhna, hmm?"
["I will go and take a look in the garden... yesterday's water has accumulated a lot. Aroha, later keep a lamp under the Tulsi plant with me, hmm?”]
Aroha (automatically): "Haan, Thakuma."
But she was only half-listening.
As soon as Thakuma disappeared into the garden, Tara leaned in — her eyes sharp now, voice lower.
Tara: "Tu sach mein darr rahi hai, na?"
[“You're really scared, right?”]
Aroha didn’t answer. Her fingers tugged slightly at the loose thread on the cushion.
Tara (softly): "Mujhe laga tha tu khush hogi. Main toh full-on dhol baja ke kehne wali thi ki dekho, tumhara lost and found love wapas aa gaya..."
["I thought you would be happy. I was about to say with full fanfare that look, your lost and found love has come back..."]
Aroha: "Mujhe pata hi nahi chal raha main kya feel kar rahi hoon, Tara."
[ “I don’t know what I am feeling, Tara.”]
Tara sat up straighter, her tone gentler now.
Tara: "Us din beach pe... yaad hai jab hum paani ke paas baithi thi aur tu chup ho gayi thi achanak?"
["Do you remember that day on the beach... when we were sitting near water and you suddenly became silent?"]
Aroha (nodding): "Hmm."
Tara: "Tab bhi woh Vardhan ki baat hi ho rahi thi. Tu tab bhi kuch nahi boli thi. Aaj bhi wahi ho raha hai."
["Even then we were talking about Vardhan. You even then]
Aroha (looking away): "Woh chapter toh maine kab ka close kar diya tha, Tara. Usse milke... sab dobara khul gaya. Woh feelings, woh letters, woh... sab kuch."
["I had closed that chapter long ago, Tara. When I met her… everything opened up again. Those feelings, those letters, woh… everything."]
Tara leaned back, looking at her friend with a long, knowing sigh.
Tara: "Tu usse tab bhi khud mein likhti thi, aur ab bhi kar rahi hai. Farq sirf itna hai — tab usne padhna shayad miss kar diya tha. Shayad ab waqt aaya hai ki woh tujhe sun le, ‘bina pages ke’ bina padhe un letter ko
["You used to write to him yourself then and you are still doing it. The only difference is that perhaps he missed reading it then. Perhaps now the time has come when he can listen to you, without the pages.”]
Aroha smiled faintly, that old ache settling softly in her chest — the kind that doesn’t burn, just sits there like a memory.
Aroha (quietly): "Aur agar usne badal diya ho sab kuch? Agar woh Vardhan ab pehchaan mein na aaye?"
["And what if he has changed everything? What if he doesn't recognise Vardhan now?"]
Tara: "Toh phir usse dobara pehchaan lena. Usmein kuch na kuch toh ab bhi wahi hoga... jo tujhe kabhi bina kahe samajh jaata tha."
["Then recognize him again. There will still be something in him that is the same... which you used to understand without being told."]
There was silence between them for a few long seconds.
The kind that comes only between two people who’ve grown up holding the same heartbreak from different ends.
Then — Aroha looked up at Tara.
Aroha (gently): "Tu mere liye itni parwah kyun karti hai?"
["Why do you care so much about me?"]
Tara gave her a mock-offended look.
Tara: "Excuse me? Main tere life ki Rani Mukerji hoon. Tujhe pyaar ke liye nahi dhakka doongi toh kaun karega?"
["Excuse me? I am the queen of your life. If I don't push you for love then who will?"]
They both burst out laughing — soft, tired laughter that echoed just a little with relief.
From the garden, Thakuma called out:
Thakuma (sing-song): "Aroha, diya jalana mat bhoolna! Aur haan—Vardhan ki mummy ne terrace ke chhat se bucket uthai thi. Kal subah woh log bhi school jaa rahe hain, haan!"
["Aroha, don't forget to light the lamp! And yes—Vardhan's mother had picked up the bucket from the roof of the terrace. They too are going to school tomorrow morning, ok!"]
Tara raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed.
Tara: "Dekh rahi ho matchmaking skills? Thakuma toh pura planning mode mein hai."
["Are you looking at my matchmaking skills? Thakuma is completely in planning mode."]
Aroha just took her head — but her heart, traitor that it was, had already begun to beat just a little faster.
And outside, the rain turned into a quiet drizzle — like the pause between inhale and exhale. Like something about to begin.
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