Rain is me <3 by Dreamer _ (highly illogical behavior TXT) 📕

her ear and smacked hard against her fragile chest.

She closed her eyes, listening to the soft sound of the waterfall.

“Hila, nothing is wrong with me.” She muttered, “And I am so glad to see you again.”

“Can’t you share your problems with me?” I said.

“I don’t like to share my problems with anyone. I like to hide.” Lail replied.

“It’s not good to hide.”

“Everyone hides.” She uttered, “We act and pretend, put up walls and barriers and hide behind masks and facades. We lie; we fake our way through life so that no one ever knows what’s really inside.”

I stared at her for a moment and mumbled, “But when everyone is fake, who’s real? When everyone hides, how can we find each other?”

She didn’t reply.

“Sometimes, when you crack the wall, you find something more amazing than you could ever imagine, something which is precious and good. Something that warms our heart.” I said, smiling.

“But what if underneath that mask is something dark? Something dangerous lurking behind it? What if you find that you have uncovered something that was better off left hidden?” She said; her voice was broken.

“Lail, please tell me! I said, grabbing her shoulders.                                                                

Her eyes beamed with sadness.                                              

“Do you really want to know?” She asked.                                                                      

“Yes.” I replied.                                                    

She stared at the mangled chair for a moment.                                                                  

Her heart beat slow and her breathing steady, she narrated her terrible story to me.

Her elder sister, Ziya, committed suicide and she didn’t leave any suicide note. She and her brother, Ali, were thrown out of their house, as they were unable to pay the rents. They were left to starve, to death. They had to stay in the meadow. One morning, when Lail woke up in the meadow, she found her brother dead. His body was dangerously cold and Lail felt like if his blood was frozen between his veins. And two years ago, she was acid-attacked by three men.

“Why does God makes people suffer?” She mumbled and closed her eyes. Two innocent teardrops rolled down her cheeks eventually to meet, a second later, near her lips and become one.

Hiatus.

“I don’t know,” I felt numb.

Lail, on the verge of a breakdown, let go of a deep, exhaustive sigh.

“Everything’s gonna be fine.” I whispered, hugging her.                                    

She hugged me back, tightly.

A moment later, she placed her head on my shoulder and cried. She cried till her tear glands could squeeze out no more. And she cried till her whole system felt empty of emotions.

“Now, I’m always with you.” I said, wiping her tears.

“Thank you, Hila.” She sobbed, “I’ll be fine now.”

She gazed at the sky. It seemed like if she had been waiting there all day, waiting for the rain to come and wash away all of her worries, waiting for the thunder to distract her from her fears, waiting for the lightning to strike and awaken all of her senses.

An icy, cold drop fell onto her cheek and ran down her skin.                                                  

Only moments later, the clouds unleashed their full fury, sending down showers of perfect raindrops.           Her nougat-brown hair changed color into a mousy brown as the water drenched it.

Her flowing, black skirt clung to her figure and the rain seeped through the satin, soaking her skin.

Each drop sent a shock around her body and yet her posture didn’t change.              

She tilted her head backwards and let the rain splash her face.                                    

The cold water felt so refreshing and her straight, serious face instantly changed into an angelic grin.          

The pure rain fell into her open mouth and the cool drops ran down the back of her throat.

I smiled vibrantly at her.

I loved how each drop felt on my skin and how even though there was no light, the pebbles near the pond still shimmered and glistened as if they were radiating their own light.

“For lonely people, rain is a chance to be touched, isn’t it?” Lail smiled, faintly.

“You’re not alone now.” I mumbled.

“The rain was so calming.” She said.

I nodded.

“Hila, do you like watching rain?”            

“Yes. I love it.”                                            

“Why?”                                                                        

“Well, I can spend hours watching it. It isn’t because I’m a terrible person who enjoys whatever ruins someone else’s day. And it isn’t because I’m happy all the time and like everything. I just like rain. The harder it is coming down, the more I like it.”                                                 

 “And nothing compares to a good old-fashioned thunderstorm, right?” She muttered.

“Absolutely. I love that constant rhythm of rainfall that is regular only in its randomness. The colors have a deeper saturation during the rain. Everything feels so clean and fresh, and that earthy smell is like nothing else. And I like rain because it dampens the sensory overload that I experience. It helps my mind to slow down and focus on specific things. I’m not saying that all people who like the rain are like me. Some might like the general bleak sense or they might be celebrating some fact that no one else is celebrating. All I can say is that I love rain for the simple virtue of it being so awesome.”

“And I love the sense of isolation that rain offers.” Her lips curved into a smile, “And there is something to be learned from a rainstorm. When meeting with a sudden shower, you try not to get wet and run quickly along the road. But doing such things as passing under the eaves of houses, you still get wet. So when you are resolved from the beginning, you will not be perplexed, though you will get the same soaking. And this understanding extends to everything.”

I looked at her. Even though her misfortune had stolen her outer beauty, her words, which were composed by her heart, were still brimmed with her inner beauty.                                                        

And she made me remember Zoof.

#

“Thanks to this good old ebony tree to save us from getting wet. Anyway, we’ve to leave now.” Uncle said.

“Hello,” I smiled, staring at Feruza.                 

She raised her hand to her forehead in a typical Muslim form of greeting.

“I didn’t know you love rains so much.” Auntie blurted, awkwardly gazing at my dress. It was entirely drenched and soaked with rainwater.

“Yeah…” I blushed.                                      

“C’mon, we’ve to leave now.” Daddy grinned.                                                                   

“Wait!” I yelped. Everyone glared at me.

“I’ve brought someone along with me.” I coughed.                                                           

“Who?” Feruza said; her brows were furrowed.                                                                   

“She is a friend.” I smiled.                                            

 “A friend?” Daddy retorted.

I turned back.

“Lail” I mumbled. She stood behind a coral tree.

Her eyes seemed watery as she came and stood in front of us. I held her hand.  

The scent of the wet earth blew in through the skylight.                                  

Feruza, mum, daddy, uncle and auntie- everyone just stared at Lail. Lail’s burned face. Everyone seemed astounded. No one did anything. Lail stood numb as everyone stared at her.

A thunderclap shattered the brooding stillness.

“She is Lail.” I said.

“As-salaamu alaikum,” Lail’s lips trembled.

“Walikum as-salaam,” Uncle said, “How are you, dear?”

“I’m Alhamdulillah doing well.” Lail said.

“Come,” I held her hand and made her sit on the mattress.                                         

Auntie looked at me intently, but I pretended not to notice.

Lail was fresh and clean, like the earth after spring rain.

“She’s coming with us.” I said.

 

#

I heard someone reciting Quran. I unlocked the door and entered the cottage.

It was Lail.

She was sitting on the floor with the Quran in her hand and was covered with a hijab which had floral design on it.

“You sound so tranquil.” I said.            

“Thank you.” Lail smiled.                          

“How do you feel?” I mumbled.                            

“Content.” Her eyes twinkled.                                                                 

I loved the tender look in Lail’s dark eyes.

“Hila, Lail- dinner is ready.” Auntie screamed.

“Come,” I muttered.

“Hila,” Lail instantly held my hand, “Thank you so much.”

“You are a part of us now.” I hugged her.

I was so happy.

When I narrated Lail’s story to everyone, they couldn’t help but take her cottage along with us.

Auntie and uncle loved Lail.

They found her very graceful, simple and lovely.

Auntie and uncle were in need of a daughter, and Lail seemed to be a perfect one.

They decided to adopt her.

Lail was going to be my sister!

 

We had a yummy potato and cream gravy for dinner.

After the meal, Lail and I sat on the clean, spotless road outside the cottage.

The full moon on the sky was a spectacular treat to enjoy.

Though the sky looked clear, the moon looked blurred on the sky.

The twinkling stars also looked hazed and dull. The chill night breeze did not give a cold shiver; instead it gave us a new experience.

“I’m so happy, Hila. The whole world seems to rejoice along with me and share the happiness I feel!” Her smile was brimmed with complete bliss.                                                                                 

I stared at her for a moment. Lail was just like Zoufishan: mild, pure and… beautiful.

The sky turned tar-black and soon, it began sprinkling. Puddles began plinking as the rainfall became heavier. A huffing wind rose up while a whistling thrush released its deep sweet secret on the trembling air.                         

The rain, the beautiful rain. It cleansed and healed. It fell down constantly like an endless bucket of water being poured down from the heavens. I looked up, my face was soaked. I shivered as another wave of ice hit me.

“I love rains.” Lail said, exulting in the swish of the cool rain.

“Me too.” I chuckled.

“And…” She smiled, “I love you, sister.”

Hiatus.

“You do?” My eyes moistened.

She nodded in the darkness. I could see the outline of her face in the faint moonlight that filtered through the skylight.

“I love you too, Lail.” I whispered.

 

#

We returned to Chandigarh, to our home sweet home.                                                           

Uncle and auntie took Lail to their home. I was so happy for them, and for Lail.

“Goodnight.” Feruza mumbled and went to sleep.

“Night” I smiled.

I went downstairs and made a mug of cold coffee for myself. I love coffee.                                    

I sat near the window.

Somewhere in my mind it’s always raining a slow and endless drizzle. It always rains in my soul. Whenever it rains, I think of her.

She was like rain. When it rains hard, it sounds like white noise everywhere, which is like silence. But, that silence is not empty. She was silent. But not empty.

Are the days of rain and sunshine just as sad for you, too? When it is misty, in the evenings, and I’m thinking about you, do you think of me too?

I closed my eyes.                                                          

I dreamt a dream, very disturbing dream, which troubled me for days.

In the dream, a girl was hitchhiking on a busy road. I’m walking behind the girl, trying to see her face.

The night was cool and foggy.                   

The fog overwhelmed me, and I wasn’t able to see the girl anymore. I ran through the street, blinded by the unforgiving fog.                               

 

All of a sudden, I saw a beam of light in the foggy darkness.

The girl was visible to me again.                                                                    

Lights began to appear beyond the distance. Headlights, coming her way.

I screamed to help her, but the girl doesn’t move. It seemed as if she wanted to die.

The fog cleared enough that I could see her face.                                                                                It was Zoufishan.                                                        

I was watching Zoufishan becoming closer to death every second, and she doesn’t bother to save herself. The car didn’t stop. And, she didn’t save herself.

I kept on telling myself that it was just a dream. Just a nightmare. And, Zoufishan was safe. Wherever she was, she was safe.                                                 

I missed her so much.

For a few days after that night, I felt a little sick. Sometimes, I went to bed and woke in the middle of the night thinking I heard someone cry, thinking I myself was weeping, and I felt my face and it was dry.

Then I looked at the window and thought: Why, yes, it's just the summer shower and turned over, sadder still, and fumbled about for my dripping sleep and tried to slip it back on.

I was feeling so… hopeless for the first time in my life. 

Everyone, I believe, at some point in their lives, wakes up in the middle of the night with the feeling that they are all alone in the world, and that nobody loves them now and that nobody will ever love them, and that they will never have a decent night's sleep again