It wasn't what you'd call the ideal start. Agreed that more wasn't to be expected - but somehow there was a feeling of dryness in the mouth and confusion in brain. There was this mishmash of colourful, inebriated, heady dreams convoluted by the stark, dreary realities of the present. He thought about Monet's impressionist works - those must have been done in such a state he thought. A strong dose of colour, an inherent wonderful haziness of the future against the strict guidelines of the canvas and of the title to satisfy. He remembered someone saying, 'they take you to the top so that they can then push you down the deep ravine at the other end'. This seemed like the precipice. It was like climbing the Everest only to find that there's already a big party in progress. It felt very unjust, that the greatness of his achievements should be sucked away, not by some living mortal being upon whom he could shower his blame, but by innocent yet distinctly stark realities.
Meanwhile the winds blew, and they pushed the clouds towards the city, and being inherently laden with water they burst down upon the boggy earth. Up went an array of water protective devices. Most of them black, somewhat tattered umbrellas and some of them in quite lovely colours, all somewhat oscillating about their oscillating mean positions. It would be interesting to note that in a certain section of town where Monet and the Everest were being thought of at the same time, this concentration of umbrellas took the form of a somewhat curious centipede. It would not be curious to the reader anymore if it was stated that this particular concoction of mostly black and some coloured umbrellas belonged to the standees of a particular queue outside one of the city's most prestigious educational institutions. It would also be a good time to introduce the reader to the person in question - not that it would mean revealing his name, for that would be quite unnecessary, but to mark him as one of the many students of this particular institution. That he was a not-pudgy but certainly plump, extremely sharp-minded (not that it is an absolute term) and at the moment a quite frustrated young chap would be enough data to enable the reader to comprehend the forthcoming events.
An extremely curious word for such unorganized stacks of people is rather paradoxically called 'line' in certain parts of the region in question. The reason for the formation of this queue is not exactly clear and this seemed to be the case with most of the people in the queue too. The point is, that the whole scene is that of quite incessant rain into an already soggy ground, a whole mass of unorganized people clustered around a particular institution in the city. Now if you are a 'plump, extremely sharp-minded individual 'chances are that you have one of those afflictions which they rather wrongly call 'absent-mindedness'. So it was with him - and as a consequence he had forgotten to bring his umbrella.
It was then that he looked around. Now he wasn't the kind of person to particularly notice or give any special attention to the fairer sex. Not that he was not interested, but only too pre-occupied. It was after his discovery that he was going to get wet unless something was done that he noticed a most remarkable face standing behind him. Now in such an unorganized queue there isn't a distinct behind or an immediate predecessor, which you could single out, but this particular face was certainly one, which would be nearer his backside than his front. Seeing his quite pitiable state, she immediately stretched out her arms to offer him some protection. Now, this wasn't one of your the-guy-and-the-girl-under-the-umbrella kinds of situations. In fact far from the romantic connotations this arrangement was helping neither. His left shoulder and a part of his head and the same with her right shoulder were now getting quite damp as the heavens poured their hearts out.
It wasn't that he had never been with girls before. Nor was he nervous, uncomfortable or any of those other words you tends to use when two quite private teenagers are caught in such a situation. "A rather dodgy day, isn't it?" he remarked. "Yes, quite" she replied. Her voice didn't quite reach him, maybe due to the distance between them or more probably due to the general buzz of people talking in the air. It was at this precise moment accompanied by a loud thunder from the skies that they both squeezed in suddenly to assume that now discussed position. It was at this moment that suddenly the equation changed. Maybe the Controller up there modified some variables or the characters in question pressed the right keys. All that casual air was replaced by a palpable tension, not sexual but definitely attractive. Those innocent words could now suddenly be labeled by some observers as 'smalltalk' and the whole setting in general to be quite favourable for a development of events in the romantic direction.
He could suddenly smell and even see the fragrance rising off her exposed neck and invigorating him via his nostrils. He could suddenly see a drop of water sliding off her arm into the puddle formed beneath them and feel her bodily heat sending his senses in to quite a tizzy. Suddenly not only her words but also her heartbeat could be heard and all the frustration, all the pain, all the antagonism he had suffered continued to pale in front of the deep blue eyes into which he was staring. It was, as said before, the turning-on of the right switches to make the whole matter quite romantic. After about what seemed to him to be quite an eternity, but to the watch he was wearing 10 minutes, the rain started subsiding and the air began to clear. Slowly the umbrellas receded to their compressed selves and the umbrella above his head too was removed. He however was now talking to the girl about her artistic inclinations and he felt sure that by the time he reached the window, she would probably be inviting him for a coffee. The long queue suddenly seemed blessed and the wholly malfunctioning systems seemed quite godsent. The rain had stopped, the air had cleared and the girl was talking. What more could a guy want!
"All girls please form a separate line at window no.3" the office clerk shouted. It seemed that not only had the party taken place, but it was he who had to clean the dishes.
