Part 15

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Rain in December was not a very familiar scenario but since last morning it'd been a consistent picture around Kolkata. With gloomy and grave face the sky over the city was pouring its heart out on it mercilessly. Lovers were plotting rendezvous, romantics were reciting poems, heartbroken poets were writing poetry, children were busy in making paper boats and floating them on the shallow puddles on the road or splashing on them and then getting a earful from their mothers on having dirt splashed over their dress's and school uniforms. Middle-class Bengalis were mumbling and growling abuses facing upwards while running to the works in morning, and upon returning home eating khichuri and omelette, pleasing their tongue, heart and stomach, curling inside warm duvet with sleepy and satisfying faces, were anticipating a bone chilling winter in the coming days. Thus the city was somehow fascinated with bitter sweetness of the wet weather. It seemed, the only option for a company the dark horizon of the city had, was Ipshita Roy Choudhury, for it seemed all the gloomy cloud of sky had its source or its reflection on the only daughter of Suvro.

Her above ordinary beautiful face was looking dull and dark as she sat on a sit by the big glass wall of a coffee shop of South Kolkata. Her gaze averted towards the window unmindful as she looked with keen concentration the raindrops rushing towards the glass with all their forces and the being interrupted by the huge glass wall, making a lamenting sound of 'pitter patter' were sliding down the same glass submitting to the defeat. Ipshita suddenly wished to remove this huge piece of glass. How wonderful must it feel to have the raindrops splash on her face and pour on her body! How calming must it feel. It would ne cold! But it would be fun. She thought.

Putting her face on her palm she was diving in deep ocean of thoughts when pulling the chair across the table Abhijit sat down.

"Onekkhon?" He asked her whether she was waiting for a long time or not as he waved at the waiter.

Being put out of the depth of thought Ipshita sighed deeply. "No..." she lied out of habit. It had been almost an hour since she was waiting. But this situation and the conversation had been repeated so often, the answer was now rehearsed even in her subconscious. But today as she answered, something flipped inside her.

Abhijit had started blabbering, "You know mom was saying we should not meet anymore until the marriage, but I just wanted to see you..." but unhearing that Ipshita snapped.

"Actually yes."

"What?" Startled he asked.

"I have been waiting for a long time now. Almost an hour." In the firm voice she said.

"Oh, okay. I'm sorry. I was stuck in the traffic, you know the rain is making the traffic situation worse. Any way as I was saying. So mom was-" Abhijit tried to move, unknown about the barrage that had broken.

"What about the other times?" In a stern voice she interrupted again.

"What other times?"

"You are always late Abhi. Every time. Don't you know that?"

"What-"

"Like all the time. All the time. It's like it doesn't matter to you anymore. You would come late and ask 'were you wating for long?' And I would say 'no' because that's how I suppose to be. Isn't it? I always have to wait for you and you will be there when you be there. When it's time for you!"

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