Tome And Plume: Food Delivery Boy Keeps You Full On Wet August Evening

Bhopal (Madhya Pradesh): An August evening. Clouds darkened the firmament of Bhopal. It remained slightly cold as the enfeebled light died out of the day. It often drizzled.

Nothing justifies feeling lowly, and a cup of tea always jazzes up the tang of such an evening.

As the gloaming lazily rolled on, the drizzles turned into big raindrops, and it soon came down in sheets. From the window, you could see people walk outside, bracing themselves against the rain and wind.

Four-wheelers drove past, spraying water onto the pavements and pedestrians. Stray cows and dogs took shelter on the pavements of residential premises or under the trees. A few heads of stray cattle, failing to find a shelter, mooed from the roadside for help.

The roads wore a deserted look, and toads croaked in unison to welcome the heavy rain. A stream of water flowed over the roads in Rachna Nagar, MP Nagar, Jail Road, New Market, and other places, filling the potholes and making a two-wheeler drive risky. Yet, youngsters drove their bikes faster, enjoying the rain.

A group of people took shelter under the shed of a shop, but they did not opt for a bit of retail therapy on this rainy evening. Seemingly frustrated, car drivers beeped their horns to return home without delay, but honning remained unnecessary because the road remained almost empty.

As the rain intensified, deepening the feeling of joy, a thought flashed across your mind. If James Howell had lived in Bhopal, rather than composing, ‘Rain, rain go away,’ he would have written, ‘Rain, rain don’t go away. I offer you Bhopal’s sweet whey.’

Sometimes it fell in big fat drops, pummelling the trees. It often blew in gently, as fine as sugar. Occasionally, the wind whipped it in sideways. Sometimes it stopped but began again.

In the English language, 'rainy day' signifies an emergency situation or trouble, but if it does not rain, what will happen? Perhaps nobody has the answer. We often pejoratively say, “Oh, it’s raining.” But in the Indian context, each raindrop contains life. So, weather forecasters look happy when they inform you – more rain in store. Despite washed-out parties and cricket and football matches, everyone likes rain except for driving on the potholed roads.

Unable to go out and do any work inside, the weather offered a fine opportunity to read something romantic that could match the rhythms of raindrops or listen to old Bollywood numbers, like “Rimjhim gire Sawan. Sulag, sulag, jaaye mann…” or “Sawan ka mahina pawan kare…”  

As sparking clouds continued their thundering bellows outside, a gust of wind entered the room through the window, carrying a few raindrops and wetting your clothes. They were the sparkling magic of nature.

As the intensity of the rain waned, a few sudden knocks on the door brought you back to the world of reality, making you think it was a trick of the wind, but the tapping continued for a while.  

Who could it be except for the food delivery rider? He had just swept down the road on his bike, racing to keep you full on the rain-fed August evening. He handed over the food pack and breezed away to his next customer, and the rain continued to tap against the City of Lakes – pitter patter, pitter patter.