Ahalya, Day 16

It was the kind of rain you wouldn't expect at the end of summer. Usually, it would be a drizzle there, a downpour here and then this. But the rain built a wall with the heaviest shower I had ever seen. I was in one of the rooms at Indira's nursery, which was located in the back of the nursery, behind ten rows of yellow flower plants I couldn't recognise. A glass window with iron bars perched to my right on the wall, showing the inundation of water from the clouds. Raindrops battered against the glass as if they were craving to get inside. And Indira sat beside me on the rice bags, scrolling through her phone. I expected her to be less talkative when we were ever stuck in a confined space, and she proved me right. I took out the phone (which was Vishwa's iPhone since I had broken mine) from my purse to check if the water ruffled my neatly parted hair.

A white, spiral-shaped fluorescent bulb was flickering above us. When I looked ahead, I saw the three working people in the nursery taking shelter along with us. A teenage boy in his shorts and white undershirts squatted near the door, his hands folded and resting on his knees. He was half-drenched already, coming from the farthest corner of the nursery. Yet, he didn't seem to care, eagerly watching the rain. A woman stood next to him, making sure she wouldn't get wet from the sprinkle. And an old man sat on the floor; he was a grownup version of the teenage guy, except he was wearing a blue-checked dhoti. All of them rushed to the room just like us, but only stepped inside once Indira gave a nod. I guessed it could've been permission to shelter with us both.

It happened so suddenly. Indira had been showing the multi-coloured bougainvillaea plants, telling how they would import them from Thailand and grow them here. I had been taking pictures of the grafted stems, which is a technique used to grow multi colours, and it had begun to rain. I'd considered running to the car where Vasu was waiting for me, but the downpour picked 0 to 60 in seconds like a racecar.

Vasu had denied seeing the nursery. The motto of today was to cheer him up with fresh air and bright flowers. He grunted like a wounded animal when I'd asked him twice, so I'd banged the car door on his face and left him there to sulk. Now, stuck in a room with three strangers and a self-centred village-head, I wished I shouldn't have been that harsh towards Vasu. I stood up and walked to the window and glanced as long as I could until I spotted our car.

In the car parked on the road before the nursery, I imagined Vasu, sitting alone, leaning in his seat and listening to the batter of raindrops on the roof. He had been beaten down since the Kalyan's suicide. For which, Yamuna blamed Suvarna for taking him. "He's a kid," she had yelled in the phone call with Suvarna. "Couldn't you think what it would do to him?" The woman with the milk business in the village didn't prefer to be blamed since she'd answered, "I don't know that she killed herself. By the way, I was one of the two people who dragged him out." Yamuna wouldn't like it when people talk back, and the atmosphere in Dwaraka had only been worse after the call.

Vishwa spent half a day conversing with Vasu, telling him we can't tell Bhanu would end up the same and he shouldn't burden himself with such imaginations. Personally, I wouldn't say that, but whatever.

"You chose one fine day to visit the nursery," Indira said with a chortle.

"Yes, I should've been following a weather channel before coming here." My answer came out mechanically. I knew she wouldn't lift her head from the screen, so I hadn't turned back. But from the corner of my eyes, I had seen the workers paying attention to our word. If they need gossip, what could be better than learning that Indira and I weren't getting along?

I peered into the glass, and what I found next sent a shiver down my spine. There was a shape between the plants, between the row of bonsai plants and supari palms. It seemed almost human, with arms and legs, standing in the rain. A halo of the water separated above the shape.

I wondered if it was a hallucination.

Bending near the glass and letting the cold mist kiss my cheek, I assumed it looked like a human. Since it was under the shade of a palm tree with leaves shuddering to the wind, I had to reconsider. Not that it might matter, but I was sober like a priest and the shape faced my direction, not moving at all. Someone was watching me. Or us? A restless feeling dressed my skin. I moved my eyes to our car, which was alone in the rain with Vasu inside, and it didn't seem right.

Something wasn't right.

Behind me, Indira sighed, getting bored with her phone. The workers were calm and asking them about the shape would be an awful move. I didn't want 'she's losing it' as the character review from strangers.

I shut my eyes and reopened them. The shape remained unmoving and staring.

"Ugh, this rain is killing me," Indira said, and I turned back. She threw her phone on the rice bag. "Ayaan gets annoyed without me."

Although it baffled me to think this woman had maternal instincts, I joined her on the bags. The plastic cover squealed as I mounted. "Do you want me to call Vasu and bring the car around?"

"Car won't fit in the gaps. We never put much space between the plants," she said.

I peeked outside and the window bar blocked my view.

"He'll be all right. Jagadeesh is with him, right?"

She leaned to the back wall, folding her legs into a meditative position. "Yeah, he's with him."

I wanted to ask what her problem with me was. Doing that in front of her workers wouldn't end well for both of us. Also, I had a problem with her. I quite didn't understand myself. As if we were two different poles destined to repel forever. Fine by me, but why?

She wore casual jeans with a baggy shirt, which told me she came straight from the bed when I called. But since she folded her legs, a weird shape on her ankle caught my eye. A scar? A wound? A birthmark? It was too thin and precise to be any of them.

Indira cleared her throat, noticing me. Then, she rolled her eyes and said, "That was a tattoo." She pulled her jeans up and I saw a tiny snake crawling up her leg. It resembled the snake from the old snake game from Nokia phones, zigzagged and animated.

I stifled a laugh and asked, "Why?"

"I wished to piss off my dad," she said, eyeing the workers. They turned away.

"And you went for that?"

She made a face. "I was young."

"And we are only young once, aren't we?"

She frowned, and that was my cue to shut up.

I slid down the rice bags and reached the window. The shape was gone. Annoyed, I searched around. It couldn't vanish because if it wasn't true, that meant I was hallucinating and that might not sit well in my over-thinking head. This shouldn't be another hallucination. I had one too many of them, plus nightmares. Not again. Not here.

And I found it. I was partly relieved it wasn't in my imagination. Nevertheless, my skin jittered. The workers didn't budge an inch. The rain calmed down a bit, the wall of water becoming transparent and revealing the world. Time seemed to be frozen here. Or it was the people. Or me. This time the shape was near the bougainvillaea plants. Not so subtle. Not trying to hide. It journeyed south, moving sideways, which I failed to notice at first, though it was obvious. I could tell it was mostly human. It had to be a person. A faint buzz began in my head. No, I screamed in my head.

"Ahalya?" Indira tapped my shoulders, and I jerked her away with a shriek.

All of them stared at me, eyes widened.

"Sorry," I said. "I am worried about Vasu in the car."

Indira narrowed her eyes, hesitating. "Call him."

That was a good idea. I fished out my phone and dialled. While the phone rang, I checked the shape again. A deafening thunder sent a tremble along my frightened body. The phone almost slipped off my fingers and I discovered the shape had vanished.

Why the hide and seek? What do you want?

He didn't lift the call. I rang him neurotically, fixing myself to the mist-filled window. As an instinct, I darted my eyes a few degrees to the left and a stroke hit my insides. Blood stopped flowing for one millisecond and regained. The shape was standing next to the car, looming near the passenger seat window. My throat was dry. I clutched my phone tighter and focused.

Pick up, Vasu. Pick up, I said to myself, dialling his number again and again.

After what felt like forever, I got a response.

"Hello," Vasu said.

The shape didn't move.

"Hello Vasu, what are you doing?"

I heard him sigh. "What else would I do? Waiting for this stupid rain to end."

"Good." I faked a laugh. "Can-an you see me?"

I pictured him turning left and gasping. Anytime now. And I wished to tell him not to panic and sit tight and that I was coming. Then I picked a squeaking sound of him clearing the window. My body turned rigid, waiting for him to speak. He would put his hands to the glass, trying to peek. A scream.

I dashed out before he could reply. I forgot about my surroundings. No time to worry about what people would speak of me later. The rain had soaked me the minute I left the room. It splattered in all directions as if it was hula hooping. I ran, struggling to see the way ahead. My steps splashed as I stepped in a few puddles, and my body was almost trembling already. Wind echoed, cancelling Vasu's voice.

I didn't let go of the phone, sticking it to my ear harder. As a reflecting mirror showed me the way, I followed. By the time I reached, almost slipping and hitting my shoulder to the car's front door, there wasn't any shape around. Ignoring my pain, I cleaned my eyes with wet fingers, and there was no one around.

It was as if I imagined it all.