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The Rain

This post has been published by me as a part of Blog-a-Ton 55; the fifty-fifth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with ​Rashmi Kumar, the author of Hooked, Lined and Single and Jyoti Arora, the author of Lemon Girl.

Sitting by the windowpane Sinamika stared at the pouring rain through the window, the road had become a stream, the trees and the plants appeared green and fresh, the dogs and cats, the cows and hens, became sick of rain, and there was no existence of life on the road.

She looked at her Father, Venkat, he was still sleeping in an easy chair, she had to wait for him to wake up, to sail the paper boats. Her favorite time pass on any rainy day. She looked again through the window; a car flew like a lightning on the road. She closed her eyes, calm, yet melodious drizzles, made her swim in the memories of last year’s rainy season.

* * *

Appa, I am going to sail my paper boats.” She stood up from the chair after making her paper boats. Her Father got up from the easy chair, brushed her hair, and said, “It’s still raining, dear. You might have to wait a while!”

She put up her long face – the drama queen – sat by the windowpane and waited for the rain to go away. Her Father came close to her, and said, “Maybe, we should try something else.”

“What should we do? Cook Pakodas and eat?” She frowned, looking down, without having any eye contact with her Father.

Amma is preparing pakodas and tea. She will make it ready in another thirty minutes. Till that time…” Cutting her Father short, she asked, “We will watch TV, is it?”

“No, Sina... We will go out and dance in the rain.” The moment he said this, she jumped on her Father, hugged him tight, and shouted, “You are so sweet Appa!”

Her Mother came out of the kitchen, saw them smile happily, washed her hands, and then she said, “But keep an eye on the road, Sina Appa. These days the car drivers fly like a rocket.”

“I’ll take care of her,” her Father assured. They went out much like the happy mouse after finding the new cheese mountain in the book, Who moved my cheese?

Sinamika looking upwards stretched her hands out, in the rain. She hopped clapping her hands in the rain; her Father too did the same. On seeing them out in the rain, the dogs came out of the kennel and the hens too, joined them and made sounds like one happy family. It was a picture perfect frame.

In about half an hour, her Mother came out and asked them to come in and wash their hands and legs, to have hot pakodas and tea, as she was almost done with the cooking part.

Sinamika ran out of the compound walls shouting, “No… No, I want to play more in the rain.”

They heard a big explosion. Her Mother ran inside to check if something happened in the kitchen, her father ran in next, stopped near the door, and called Sinamika to come in. She refused to come in.

He heard another big explosion inside, followed by a huge scream, when he went inside; he saw his wife caught fire because of the explosion of the kerosene stove. He quickly got a sack, and wrapped it around her, and rolled her down.

He heard a screeching sound outside, followed by Sinamika’s scream. He ran out of the home, only to see her daughter lying in the pool of blood mixed with water stream, hit by an over speeding car that passed through.

He broke down into tears. He composed himself quickly, knocked his neighbor’s door for help, took his wife and daughter to the hospital in the car.

* * *

Sinamika, her Father called her name loudly. She came back to present, tear drops fell from her eye, she looked at her amputated legs, and then her Father, “Can you take me out in the rain. I want to sail my paper boats.”

His lips curved a little, he made her sit in the wheelchair, collected all the paper boats from the table, and took her outside the home.

She took her first paper boat with the help of her Father, looked at the sky, “Amma, this is my letter for you. I want you to return after reading this,” she said and sailed her paper boat in the stream of water that led to the place called Hope.

The second was the letter to God asking him why He snatched her Mother away from her, the third was the letter to the Government requesting to find the car owner who took her legs away from her, the next was her secret wishlist and it continued.

* * *
She Hopes that all her letters get a response!
Will it happen?

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 38. Image Credits: Monsoon by Yann (Wikimedia Commons). Shared with GNU Free Documentation License CC Attribution-Share Alike.

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  1. Oh! Sarav you have evolved as a writer and how!
    This story is an absolute tear jerker and the end very very tragic.
    An intense read!
    You inspire me to explore various emotions through writing.
    ATB for BAT55!
    And thankyou so much for being a great Marshal..:)

    1. Vibz,

      Welcome back to my space!

      It's my pleasure to have you here. Thank you so much for the encouraging words. It means a lot to me :)

      Someone is Special

  2. Hi Sarav,

    Such a different prompt on the theme, I really hope her letters are answered in some form or the other. Your stories are simple yet very real.

    All the best for BAT55.


    1. Thank you so much, Megha. I wish the same. Her letters should be answered!

      Stay around!

      Someone is Special

  3. Oh, what a touching piece....but, so mesmerizing that I devoured it!! Am glad the little one alive... :)
    ATB for BAT, SiS

  4. A different and very sensitive take on the prompt. It literally made me cry. Beautifully written. :)
    Hope is a light to infinite possibilities.

  5. god never responses at least not in the language we knew, a sensitive emotional take on the prompt

    My Blogaton55 entry The Monsoon Pain

  6. :( I don't like tragedies ..specially when it comes to children..
    Very touching..nicely written.. All the best for BAT

  7. It's so painful, Sarav. The innocent letters of hope make me tremble with awe. Destiny may take one from ground to sky and pull us back to the ground with shattered dreams. I liked the way you connected it with the rain. All the very best to you.


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