The flashes of lightning appeared intermittently on the
window pane followed by the thunder, shaking the whole house. Ramabhadran, enjoying the lightning, the thunder and the sonorous sound of the
rain hitting the roof and the atmosphere, snuggled inside a cotton sheet, half the length of his body, like a worm and snoozed.
When the first light of dawn appeared and trickled through the window, he opened his eyes and lay disappointed. The rain was gone, instead a silence prevailed in the atmosphere, although the occasional chirping of birds were heard. He got up lazily, pushed open the window pane and looked out, as if soliciting to the nature about why did it stopped raining. The rain, always gave him joy, enthused energy in him, perhaps to persist with his laziness. The odor emerged from the courtyard enthralled him; the earth wetted by the rain had a peculiar
aroma that appealed to his nostrils.
He leisurely walked out of his room and saw his grandmother sitting at a corner of the pooja room and chanting litanies of the lord. The fragrance of the incense fumigating, the odor of the oil in the burning lamp and the brassy smell that hung in the room made him joyous. The college in which he was studying was closed for vacation and these trivial joys made the most of his days. His parents leave early to do their government jobs and obviously he’s left alone with his sanctimonious grandma who''s desideratum was to live sanctimonious.
He walked out through the back door of his house into the back yard, where stood a magnificent
drum stick tree with several branches extending into the neighborhood . Millions of water droplet hung in each leaf, each branch and each drum stick, dangling and about to fall and scatter. His puerile mind made him shake the tree and to his joy a large number of water droplets from the tree cascaded onto his body accompanied by ripen leaves and some weak green leaves. Ramabhadran then, perambulated around the compound inhaling the aroma of the rain affected atmosphere and squinted to the house situated north to his residence.
It was a tiled house beautifully maintained to appear like an ancient Kerala palace. The courtyard was enshrouded with variety of shrubs and plants that stood like a wet and a bashful maid. A shoe flower plant grew along the walls and covered half of a window of a room blooming with bright red flowers. Through the window ,inside the darkness he could see a full moon
face with dreamy eyes, reflected by the outside light, surveying the nature. He hid his timid ness behind the trunk of a fully grown coconut tree and ogled at the direction of the window in admiration. After a minute or so the full moon face dissolved into the darkness inside, leaving Ramabhadran a trifle disappointed. Each shoe flower blossomed, now looked like the full moon face for Ramabhadran.
She had a full moon face according to Ramabhadran and her name was Sree Kutty. She was a student of ninth grade in the near by school. The best thing that had happened to him in his life was that she threw a coquettish smile at him once they passed each other near the temple. That smile, to him was like someone sprinkling a million, cool twinkling stars into him, each star sticking to his weak and craving heart.
Sree Kutty was tall and fair girl, walked as if pearls scattered when she kept her each step. Her eyes were big and beautiful and Ramabhadran called it dreamy, by himself. The aquiline nose was a matter of discussion among the boys of the school and it was a matter of envy for the girls around. Her pink lips, for Ramabhadran resembled the petals of a chempakam or a temple tree flower. Although he was optimistic that she liked him, he feared that some fellow, bold and handsome could entice her and take her away. He was aware that as long as his timid ness in him retained itself in him, he’ll never reach his goal in attaining her.
Every morning when Sreeutty waddled her way back to home from the temple, Ramabhadran hid behind the short wall that protected the road from the under water stream and watched her pass. Her long and dense locks, fluttering in the morning breeze would give out the aroma of heated oil and tulsi or the holy basil in turn piercing through his nostrils. He swoons in ecstasy inhaling the aroma and falls over the limpid waters of the stream creating a splashing sound of the water. Sree Kutty turns back and always look perplexed, with out getting an idea about the source of the sound. Ramabhadran then lays there in the flowing water satisfied and contended.
These small joys make Ramabhadran’s day. The story doesn’t end here. Ramabhadran''s days goes on and on, revolving around his dreams on the next door girl Sree Kutty.
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