DISCLAIMER:
(This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person or object in real life is unintended and purely coincidental)
PART 1 - BUS NO. 83
His new alligator strap tag heuer was soaked because of the tiny harmless drops trickling down from the wooden handlebar of the umbrella that he carried. And that irritated him. He wasn't a 'soaked in materialism' kinda guy, but had his quirks about certain things and watches was one amongst the few.
She, on the extreme right of the bus stop, was a stark contrast to this irritated guy to the left extreme.
Calm, composed, almost untouched by the strong winds and the spray of cold raindrops, not literally. Her feet were wet, and little droplets trickled off her silver anklet, the only piece of jewelry she wore.
But her transparent knee long raincoat kept most of her body dry. What was not covered by the raincoat reveled in the sensation of being wet.
Her wildly curly hair looked like someone had leashed them, they were for once, manageable. Wet is not such a bad thing after all, she thought for a flash.
It was 6:20 pm on this wet tuesday evening, and surprisingly the bus stop was deserted, for what was otherwise considered Peak-Hour. Most offices had let their employees take a half-day and go home, for the fear of getting stuck in office in case the rains didn't pause.
For the last 8 minutes, both the boy and the girl waited for their BEST bus to churchgate station. It was a long way from the RC church bus-stop, not worth risking a walk, definitely not in this weather.
He glanced at his tag the 19th time since he had been at the bus stop and she checked her cell phone for any new sms...none!
Just then, after a moment of silence, there was a huge bolt of lightning that struck a 120 year old banyan tree. The bus stop stood bang opposite the now burnt by lightning tree. Splinters of wood flew in all directions as the 3 feet diameter tree trunk got sliced in two halves.
Both of them panicked, scared, got together. He proposed that they get out of there. She couldn't have said it in better words. As he unstrapped his tag and slid it in his backpack, she introduced herself, shouting over the strong winds and the whooshing sound of the rain “Hey, just so that you don't call me random names, its Shania for the record.” she smiled. He put his backpack hastily, where it belonged, on his shoulders, shaked his hand vigorously to make it dry and managed a semi-dry handshake muttering, “ Hi Shania, i'm Ron, whatever made you think i'd be calling you weird names”. “They do you know, most of my friends, they call me Medusa, its because of my lovely curly hair”. He chuckled and escorted her out of the bus stop whispering, “ they are gorgeous, why complain!”. That's when he first realized how soft her hands were. Wow! That was softer than any brioche dough, he thought to himself!
There they were, 2 strangers, stuck in the perfect stormy, rainy, evening. The walk to the churchgate station , under normal circumstances, would have taken them at least 30 minutes, if they walked at a steady pace. But today, was no normal day, it had rained 100 mm of rain since morning and the meteorological department had issued warnings of increasing rainfall and stronger winds after sunset.
So, they started walking, under the tungsten streetlights that shone on the raindrops, making them look like orange juice drops.
