Water is a funny thing. It is as mercifully fluids as it is concrete in its mirroring of everything that you do not want to see. The same droplets that wash away all your sorrows in a swift movement from the skies can form a mysterious screen for you to glimpse into – almost like an unwanted and best forgotten biopic. All you can do is stand by, eyes widening in pain as you see your life and mistakes replay in front of your eyes and leave a trail of fear behind. Something akin to a code red button that you wished you could press but did not have the life in your limbs to do so.

Sudha threw the blue and grey comforter that covered her slender body in one quick motion and jumped out of bed. The alarm next to her bedside, a vague memory from a long-forgotten trip to London, had rung incessantly and then stopped as if exhausted. She did not believe in the modern day alarms with the snooze option or for that matter those fancy ones on her mobile. And, as a result, today was one of those rare days that she ended up getting up late.

The meeting is not till 9. I should be able to finish a quick run and get ready in time, she muttered to herself, as she boiled the milk for her morning brew of the aromatic filter coffee that she always preferred over the more instantaneous foreign siblings. Morning ablutions done, she headed for her small garden at the back of the house, nursing the steaming hot steel tumbler in hand, enjoying the heat it emanated on this particularly cold morning. The parcels of Cothas filter coffee, the idli rice, the pappads, the pickles and various other paraphernalia that was rudimentary to her daily routine despite never having lived in the southern parts of India where her roots supposedly were, was dutifully sent by her mother every month, from Pune where they had lived all their lives, muttering every time that the cost of sending the parcel was at least double that of the ingredients in them. But without these creatures of comfort surrounding her, Sudha could not imagine getting through the bitter cold in Germany, especially that in winter.  She was a creature of habits, almost dedicatedly so. Now. For the past few years.

Sipping her coffee in its quintessential steel tumbler as she dragged on the jogging suit, she put a lid on the remaining dregs in the glass, for after, and let herself out of her beautiful old home in what was perhaps the quietest neighbourhood in Frankfurt. One of the oldest industrial cities in the Fatherland – Deutschland, it had been home to her for the past decade now, ever since she had left India in an abrupt hurry. Her mother never understood the reason for her flight and she never would, that much was clear to Sudha, so she never had to go through the added trauma of trying to explain. Ma was, well, a simple woman who had worked hard at the bank to take care of Sudha after her husband had left with another colleague, a woman he had apparently been sleeping with for years already. Ma had never understood the nuances that had not existed in her marriage and Sudha doubted if she would ever understand the gravity of what had transpired all those years ago. After all, she was a simple woman who just went through life day by day, minute by minute without questioning either the good or the bad that came their way.

Sudha’s flourishing career, her beautiful home in the most beautiful residential areas in Frankfurt, filled with bric-a-brac from several parts of the world that she had travelled to – a bone of contention with several of her envious colleagues - well, her life was here now. But not her heart! That still belonged elsewhere while she merely went through the motions of daily life here.

The sudden wetness on her nose made her look up with an almost instantaneous dread that surged through her body. One drop of rain and all that carefully built façade of calm began crumbling like an old tree that had its insides slowly eaten by worms, while it stood in a pretence of majesty.

I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. Sudha yelped out aloud like someone had taken a whiplash to her slender body that had never gone past the initial stage of healing itself. Fumbling with the quaint old, almost rickety picket fence gate that had been the first factor that had drawn her to the old house, she ran in into the comforts of her home and shut the door firmly behind her - shutting out the delicate drops of rain as they fell gracefully to the ground and drenched it causing a marriage of soil and rain, which emanated an aroma that only one who loves nature can describe. Oh, the fragrance of rain soaked earth! Sudha was not one them anymore.

Oddly enough, she was the one in the group who had always loved the rain, never missing a chance to get drenched in a sudden downpour, do a spontaneous jig in the middle of traffic or jump in dirty, random gatherings of rain water in childish abandon. But that was before, when life was still just about living it to the fullest and not running away in fear.

As she turned back to face the wide window that stood next to the front door overlooking the rose shrubs outside, she could see the glass glazing over from the mistiness caused by the rain. As always, she did not dare clear the window pane of its haziness. She could not tear herself away from there either.

Who knew what was waiting on the other side? She still did not have the courage to face it despite the fact that it was all her making. Perhaps, one day, she would reach out and wipe the pane clean of its mistiness and there would be nothing unusual on the other side. Or perhaps, one day, Rabeen would be standing there, staring at her with an accusatory gleam in her already cold and lifeless eyes.

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Ma, I am going to the shop to get stencils and a few colour pencils I need for the college project. I will be back in a bit. Sudha ran out before her mother could point out, quite pointlessly, that it was raining and admonish her for wanting to cycle to the shop in the rain. But then, they both knew that any rok-tok was absolutely pointless. Pointless indeed!

It is as if there is a demon that comes in and pulls this girl out when it starts raining.

Perhaps it is the rain God himself, Ma!

Go, go, nothing I say will stop you Sudha. But mark my words, such wild abandon is alright when you are in the close confines of your loved ones who will protect you but not otherwise. Curb that spirit a little. It worries me.

But Ma, I love the rain. It is as if the tear shaped pellets of the sky-owned water just washes away all sadness and leaves nothing but joy in its wake. Pure Joy! Sigh!

Sudha’s mother had caught her last week in the maidan near the ramshackle old government hospital dancing with some young boys, almost men, in the pouring rain, her white salwar plastered to the budding contours of her slender body.

It was just a few days after that Sudha was found lying in a faint near the same maidan, body drenched from all the soaking that it had. But Rabeen, her best friend, her childhood companion had not been so lucky. She had not been found till much later. And by that time Sudha had stopped talking. She couldn’t even if she tried.

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You need to talk about what is inside Sudha. There are several layers of issues and hurt that you have buried inside that complicated heart of yours. You can talk to me.

Pete, Sudha’s colleague from work, had felt an instantaneous attraction to her when he saw he for the first time. Of course, a big chunk of that was purely carnal, fuelled by Sudha’s slender and graceful body, her mildly dusky complexion, the colour of pale coffee, her thick black hair cut short in a unique slant that would have looked almost urchinish on anyone else, her huge eyes that surprisingly shrunk into two tiny slits when anyone approached her…….But her intelligence, her drive and her ambition that got her up the ladder very quickly also ruffled his curiosity and he vowed to get closer to her.

They had been together for over 6 years now, in an arrangement that was drawn out by her, that suited her and left him very frustrated and craving for more.

Shaken not stirred, that’s what you are.

A smile that bordered on a grimace was her response every time he said that to her. It became his nickname for her. He liked to whisper it in her ears as she made their coffee, the one single night cap she allowed him before he was unceremoniously packed off for the night.

The only time that she had allowed him to stay…..well, actually she had been in no condition to ask him to leave or to even talk for that matter. He had never seen anyone react with such terror to rain.

It was as if the rain that pelted the old wide windows from the outside was casting fumes of acid through the thin sheath of glass and burning her inside and out. She just stood at the window, suddenly yet visibly withering like a moth eaten book, eyes wide in recognition of a lost but not forgotten fear. As if someone or something would reach out through the mist left by the rain on the glass and ………………

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Rabeeeeeeeeeen, Rabeen, tujhe Rab ka vaasta.

Aao milkar khaye garama garam chilli da pasta.

Sudha loved teasing her friend and would always pull her name into a ridiculously concocted couplet uttered in a sing song fashion.

Rabeeeeeen, stop pouring over that book like it is your lifeline, I am telling you girl, I will burn all your books one day and dance around the pyre with glee, Sudha said ghoulishly.

Rabeen did not pay her any heed. She knew better about her friend of 17 years, her childhood companion, her only friend, cranky, wilful, brashly spontaneous, but yes, still her dearest friend. When Sudha was in one of these cantankerous moods, Rabeen knew that nothing would tame her, the wild child that she was. She would do whatever caught her fancy at that moment. Rabeen would just stand by and wait to catch her when she fell.

When they had been about 11, the girls had been sitting on the parapet wall of the old municipal office and chatting away to glory. Rather Sudha had launched herself into a grand monologue, as always and Rabeen had been uttering the umms and the ehs intermittently, showing her half-hearted participation, while she read her book. A small group of teenage boys, travelling with their uncle, a truck driver, had been listening to the girls and they began imitating Sudha and her sing song manner of jabbering. Sudha had jumped off the wall, gathered her long skirt up in a wild knot, almost lungi like, and had chased the boys all the way to the moving truck and had given the speeding truck a chase long after it had sped away.

Rabeen always made sure that Sudha’s Ma never got to know about any of these escapades. She was always the one consoling Sudha who would sob uncontrollably when a wild adventure turned nasty. Sudha, her dearest friend, her pet, so unlike her but with a nature that seemed to complement her own.

But how could she, of all people, do that to her?

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Pete drew the car into the driveway just as Sudha was making her way out of the grocery store in the vicinity. She hated the impersonal opulence of the supermarkets and preferred going to the same store that she had been patronising ever since she got here.

I need to talk to you Pete. I feel like my life, or rather what is left of it is just evaporating in front of my eyes. There is something that I have never told anyone and it is eating me up from inside.

Sudha, why don’t you come with me to my apartment and we can talk in some privacy there?

No I would rather we drive down to the park and sit there.

They drove in silence to the Grueneburg Park, a place where Pete normally went for his morning runs. Sudha was trembling by the time they reached but Pete, knowing her standoffish nature, pretended not to notice her anxiety and merely held her lightly by the elbow as they walked to a secluded bench.

Pete quietly put a steaming cup of Tchibos coffee near Sudha as she sat down. As if in a trance, Sudha began talking, ignoring the cup of coffee that Pete had kept near her.

A few years ago, I was a very different person; not as controlled and mature as I come across today. I was wild, temperamental and did exactly as I pleased. My mother and my dearest friend Rabeen were always warning me about the consequences of my wayward behaviour but I just thought that they were big prudes.

I had got into the habit of hanging out with a small group of young men who had their regular adda in the maidan behind the old government office that was a few kilometres away from our school. I got into experimenting with a beedi and I even tried a little toddy that one of them had brought secretly. Their openness in experimenting with everything that was forbidden was vastly liberating for me and in my exhilaration to try out something wildly new, I began to spend most evenings after college with them. A few times, Rabeen came to the maidan and pleaded with me to come away but I joined the boys in teasing her for her prudish ways. She still kept coming to try and knock some sense into my head. I stopped acknowledging her presence altogether after that.

Unfortunately, on that fateful day, Rabeen had come to the maidan again to try and appeal to me. Vasu, the quietest young man in the gang was my partner in the spontaneous rain dance that happened that evening. I was not aware of the fact that my white salwar kameez was sodden in the rain and clung to my slim body and revealed more than it covered. My nipples had perked up in the lashing rain and the contours between my legs were also showing tantalisingly. Vasu whispered in my ears……..

Pete had quietly drawn a little closer to Sudha on the bench as her could see that the trembling was now escalating into violent shudders. He did not dare touch her to comfort her as she was caught in an emotion so violent and private he was afraid that the dam that was about to burst may ebb suddenly.

He said that he had something really exciting to show me and asked me to come inside the old shed that housed all of our bicycles when we were in the maidan. I was so enchanted with the thought of trying something new yet again that I did not realize that he had begun to loosen his pyjama strings.

Rabeen had slipped in behind us- I guess she had a premonition of what was to occur – but I paid no heed to her.

Vasus hands were all over my body and I began panicking as I realized that this was the something new that he had lured me into. I did not like the feeling. Sickened by what was happening, I knew that the only way to escape what Vasu was doing was to divert his attention. In my panic to escape, I pulled Rabeen into the midst and left her to Vasu, before turning on my heels and making a hasty retreat. I ran all the way in the rain to the school. Exhaustion and fear overtook me and I fell in a dead faint. That was all that I remember. The next thing I knew, I was at home, my mother and neighbours anxiously peering over my face. I could also hear the whispers about Rabeen’s disappearance.

As an eerie coldness descended over Pete, he sat, unmoving and unable to react to the magnitude of what Sudha had just told him, but he kept his silence and waited.

A few days later, by which time her parents were almost hysterical in the grief of not being able to find Rabeen, her body was fished out of the lake behind the old maidan. The local police could not find out what had transpired and everyone assumed that she had accidentally drowned. Rabeen’s father kept reiterating that she would never go near the lake and I knew that she would not either but by that time, I was unable to speak anymore. Everyone assumed that I was shocked into silence at losing my dearest companion.

The shrieks in my head, however, told me that she had killed herself because of what I had done.

I left a few months later and never told anyone about what I had done, not even my mother.

Sudha got up slowly and started walking towards the old tree that stood protectively over the bench, and leant against it as if weary from the burden she had carried on her shoulders.

Every time I see rain now, I remember what I did to Rabeen. It scalds me. When I see the window panes misting over with the fumes of the rain, I always fear that Rabeen will be there on the other side, watching me and asking me why I did it. I cannot face that sorrow in her eyes, the betrayal and the recriminations that have no voice.

The skies had begun to grey a little and tiny droplets of rain began to touch their heads as they remained transfixed in their respective places, one not wanting to disturb the flow of emotions and the other too lost in pain to react. The grey skies opened up a little more and the steady pellets that descended on their heads were flowing as rivulets down their bodies. Sudha did not react for once. She had spoken.

Pete slowly got up, expressionless and guided her towards the car. As she sat down in the seat, the car getting soggy from their drenched bodies, she saw that the car window was all misted over. She reached out with her hand and slowly wiped the mist away. From where she sat, she could see the vast lawns ahead, the grass quivering in the downpour and the trees swaying to the rhythm of the rain.

She reached out for her cell phone and dialled a number she could never forget, a number she had dialled since she was in school. It was time to give Rabeen’s parents the closure they deserved.

Pete reached out an unsteady hand to her shoulder and she turned to him and gave his hand an uncertain squeeze.