this story is from a blog written by a college girl doing btech..... thought to share this with IL. see how she captures all emotions in words....... hope u all like this story. It Will Rain Again She stood in that pouring rain. The water seeping through her clothes, her clothes clinging to her self. Her hand holding on to that piece of paper, it was getting drenched in the water. If you were to hold your palm out and catch the water that dripped off her smooth oval face. If you were to pour a drop of it down your throat, the saltiness in it would be evident. The tears were pouring with a fury greater than the rain. The sounds were not heard by her ears. The wetness was not felt by her skin. The people were not seen by her eyes. It was like her senses had taken a break. Joining in the breaking of her heart, in the tearing of her soul. Unknowingly, the paper slipped her hand. It flowed along the flowing stream the rain had created in the otherwise well-kept garden. The mud clinging to it, the water crumbling it. In some kind of awakening she sensed that the paper has slipped off her fingers. Her senses were kicked back into action. Her hands moved to her eyes pushing away the rain drops. The water in those eyes held themselves back for her to see. The tiny piece , now almost non-existent ,flowing along the tiny stream in her make-shift garden. Her whole body which seemed paralysed a second ago now lurched forward. On her knees she grabbed violently at that piece of paper, at that tiny piece of paper. Her hands now held some earth, muddy, watery earth. In that was a small bit of white. She removed that whiteness from the earthy brown as carefully as she could. But that whiteness was no better than the earth. Watery and muddy, it was but a piece of white in some brown. She had lost it. Her only possession of him. He was the smartest person she had ever known. The questions he asked never stopped to amaze her. His smile never seemed to fade. And with him her smile never failed. The smile which had re-appeared after years. And now one week was all it took for all of that to be taken away from her. Her laughter, her answers, her love, her life. ************************************************************ In the wet railway station, he sat with the new lady who kept calling him a name he didn’t know. He didn’t understand most of what happened last week. He had been happy when ReemaMom had taken from the orphanage. It had taken him exactly 3 days to learn that word. And then they had lived together in that small house. With photos of Raghavdad who left mom years ago. And then last week Shriya aunty had come home with this lady who kept calling him Arun. A week of talking and fighting later, they said he will have to go live with her. But how was he to tell her that he was Rahul and he needed to be with ReemaMom. As tears filled his eyes, he remembered the piece of paper he had given Mom that morning. He had written with her favourite pink crayon, “ ReemaMom , I love you. Your son,Rahul!” The train pulled in and the rain stopped. Abruptly.