The Magic Of Monsoon’s Touch

The Magic Of Monsoon’s Touch

I activated my Out-Of-Office auto reply and closed my laptop, allowing myself a huge sigh of relief. All pending tasks completed. I can now proceed with my vacations peacefully without fretting over office work. The rumble of clouds beckoned me, as if on cue. 

I rushed out onto the balcony. 

Plop! A fat droplet landed on my head, forcing me to gaze up at the evening sky, now painted pitch-black by clouds that had engulfed the sun and were growing darker by the minute. 

Aah, it will rain! A smile crept onto my face.

The mesmerizing touch of Monsoon rains will not only rejuvenate the parched earth, but also wash away fatigue that bogged me down and revive my pluviophile soul! 

The splatter of raindrops on my skin induced a shiver of pleasure down my spine. My thought drifted towards my yang who was in a different city, in all probability cussing the wet weather.  My colleague of yesteryear, now my better half, whom I would request to drop me home every time it rained; for even after surging prices like a madman Uber could not fetch me a ride. 

It was after several trips on his two-wheeler over a couple of monsoons that we realized we were destined to be together. 

A sudden flash lit up the sky, immediately followed by deafening thunder abruptly interrupting my reverie. Thick sheets of rain crashed down as the heavens burst open with fury. 

“Mumma!” My seven-year-old squealed in delight as she tugged at my kurta. Scooping her up in my arms I rushed inside. As much as I loved rain, I couldn’t risk my child catching a cold. 

“Mumma, smile!” My nine-year-old clicked my pictures that I sent him through my WhatsApp. 

“What’s with your obsession with rains?” His message popped up.

“Hey, don’t forget you owe your married life to rains!” I retorted.

“Crazy girl! Go, change into dry clothes, unless you want to fall sick!”

“Aye, aye captain!” 

“Packing done?”

“Yup, all set. See you tomorrow!”

As an afterthought I sent four throbbing heart emojis. 


In the early hours of the morning the road was practically deserted, submerged in water in most of the places – a fallout of the heavy downpour of last night. The taxi deposited me along with my clan in front of the railway station well in time.

Juggling luggage while wading through the waterlogged stretch, I tripped and reached out to the nearby electric post for support. No sooner did my hands touch the column, than I experienced a high-power jolt. A violent current coursed through my body, triggering seizures. My limbs flailed vigorously and involuntarily. I tried to pull myself away from the manic pole, but it refused to let go of me. After a few excruciating minutes, the fits silenced on its own. My body went limp. The ordeal was over. 

My man now owed loss of his marriage to rains. 


Disclaimer: This piece is a work of fiction loosely based on the recent mishap that took place where a woman was electrocuted in Delhi. Please note, it is not an accurate account of the tragedy but the author’s reconstruction of the tragic event.


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Sunita Chadha
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