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A man lost in thought, under the light drizzling rain, a bit nostalgic look on his face, seems to remember his past. He had faced nearly 29 monsoons till now. The 14th monsoon was a bit special.

It was his first monsoon; the monsoon that brought love in his life. His mind went back into the time when he used to sit near the library window, looking outside while the rain splattered noisily on the window pane. It was the same time when a girl hurriedly came and sat opposite to him. Day after day they came here studying silently for hours, speaking nothing but saying it all. Finally, he could not hold on and gathered courage to present him in front of her to say he liked her. It was a happy monsoon.

But the next monsoon, the rain washed all the happiness. The girl’s family moved and he was left alone in the library, looking outside while the rain spattered noisily on the window pane. This monsoon his heart was in sorrow. The monsoon that once brought love now brought him pain. He now hates rain. He keeps away from rain.

His heart started to move on. The next two monsoons went by swiftly burying the void in his heart. This is the 18th monsoon. He was walking in the park, it was dusk. He was feeling lonely. The sky couldn’t see his loneliness, couldn’t hold its tears, and couldn’t contain its agony, it thundered, rained heavily till its agony was felt by everyone. The sudden rain made him feel like, “Monsoon is a mystery.” The next moment he was bewildered to see a young girl, in white dress, shivering, sitting under the wooden sit, probably waiting for someone. His lonely heart was throbbing as he neared her. He was flabbergasted to see how pretty she was and couldn’t hold back muttering “beautiful”. He was wondering, “Who would leave such a beautiful girl waiting?” He was no more the same shy book worm as he used to. He asked, “Are you waiting for someone?” And it was a cold reply, “Sorry, I don’t speak with strangers.” He left without uttering a word.

Like a swift river, time quickly went by. It was his 22^nd monsoon. He was busy with work and had no time to heed his lonely heart. He worked as a part time at restaurant. Every night in the rain, he sees a women, in late 20’s, drenched coming over the restaurant to have hot coffee. This monsoon, he got to know the story of this lady. This lady had also wished for a monsoon of love, same as him. Her love story was really painful. She found her love 5 years ago, on a train. He sat opposite to her. It was raining outside and she picked a book to cover her face and tried to have a glimpse of the man opposite to her. It was an uncut silence until the man said, “I am impressed by your ability to read a book upside down.” This was the start of her long journey of love. The monsoon didn’t turn out as expected. She said with distressing sound that last monsoon took her husband away in a road accident. He didn’t know what to say and tried to comfort her. He thought, “Oh monsoon, why do you play with peoples feeling? I alone am not enough for your game?” He couldn’t feel less pity for the women.

This time monsoon wasn’t still. It would roar sometimes, sometimes stay quiet like a mouse. After these entire monsoons, he understood monsoon was really cruel. But he didn’t expect the scene of his best friend’s marriage. He thought monsoon breaks lovers; he thought lovers dancing in the rain, enjoying the moment, were just a part of the scheme of monsoon.

It is now his 29^th monsoon. He still wants to believe that monsoon is heartless, but the fact of his friend’s family being happy refutes his philosophy. Yesterday on Facebook, he got a girls message stating she wanted to meet him. But he couldn’t help himself from being wary of monsoon’s schemes. The next day he confronted himself not to go, his heart however was conflicting. He went to the destined place and saw no one. He cursed at monsoon and turned to leave. However a rather sweet charming voice landing on his ears made him freeze for as second. He turned his head to find a beautiful women standing before him. He got a familiar feeling and guessed something. But when she said, “Do you remember me?” a tremor ran down his spine. This monsoon was just like the 14^th monsoon. And the woman was the girl in 14^th monsoon.

He wished this monsoon would never end, listening to the rhythm of the falling rain; wished the next monsoon would never come fearing the monsoon would take away his love. But he no longer thinks monsoon is just playing with him, it’s just how life is. Going through all these monsoons, he understands, “Monsoon simply brings rain. Some people feel the rain while others just get wet.”