The Heartlines of Rain
written by: Aneesh Narath
Mumbai in the month of July — the rhythm of the city moved with constant rain and endless rush. Water-logged roads, muddy junctions, crowds running under umbrellas, and trains thundering and screeching past — all of it turned the city into a grand mechanical world.
Sudden floods — delayed traffic — railway platforms shrinking human kindness — these had all become signs that defined the city.
Vivek got off the train at CSMT Station. His shoes, torn slightly from the mud and rain, hung heavy; a small laptop dangled from his bag. He looked weary.
A young man who had reached this city from Kannur. His childhood was spent in love with books. His father, a small printing press operator; his mother, a schoolteacher. It was through the tender affection of a poetic and peaceful mother that he grew.
But one day, when his father unexpectedly passed away, life turned into a series of question marks. To escape that emptiness, Vivek sought refuge in the calmness of screens.
Self-taught in computer programming, living off small scholarships… he encoded his emotions into every line of code. That became his solace. His way forward. His journey in Mumbai had just begun.
One morning at Marine Lines station… in the rain… while waiting for an auto, he saw her — Neha Satpathy. A girl from a middle-class family in Odisha.
A red umbrella, earbuds in her ears, a thermos in hand — there was something instantly captivating about her.
When her water bottle slipped from her hand, he picked it up and handed it back with a smile.
“Thank you. First day in Mumbai, and the first person to smile at me. Who even has time to smile here anymore?” she said.
That was their first meeting.
Her life was full of challenges. Her father’s illness, her mother’s mental stress, and endless debates about her future — she had traveled a stormy path through family chaos. To survive, she sought a path for herself — a job in Mumbai. When dear ones let go of her hand, she reached for art. Learning design gave her a sense of freedom.
But the silence that visited on Monday mornings, and the emptiness that stared back from her after-effects window at night, never really left.
A deep desire to stand on her own. Multiple jobs followed — each new door revealing a room covered in dust behind it. She was now working on a design contract in a startup.
Yet a voice within asked,
“Is it enough for you?”
Every answer gave birth to more questions.
Their relationship — something hard to define.
WhatsApp calls, occasional lunches, pressure from home — yet there remained a quiet, rain-cooled thread that tied them together.
One evening, while sitting on the rocks at Bandra Seaface, she asked:
“Shall we go on a trip to Himachal?”
Vivek smiled silently without replying.
But she wasn’t upset. She was used to it.
Another time, Neha said,
“I’m running, just like Mumbai city… Targets, OKRs, deadlines — they’ve all made me forget how to love. I’m that kind of girl now.”
Vivek replied,
“But you do have a heart that knows how to love. You’ve only hidden it. I’m the one stuck in a void… like I’m lost in a desert…”
She saw the tears welling up in his eyes. Gently, she stroked his hair.
Then — something happened. A few days later, without any sign, Vivek disappeared.
No social media presence. His phone remained unreachable.
The messages she sent were never replied to.
When she went to his place, no one knew anything.
Why had he left without even saying a word?
She was shaken.
Difficulties waited for her, too.
MNC restructuring… nearly fifteen people were about to be laid off…
She feared she might be one of them.
Even the fake smiles of her superiors made her anxious now.
She felt like a nameless girl lost to the soil.
When her manager gave her a subtle hint one day, her mind didn’t process words — only vibrations.
A girl caught in the open road, without shelter.
She broke down and cried:
“Even if the world abandons me, I want to believe that somewhere, someone still loves me.”
She typed an email:
To: vivek.nair84@inbox.in
Subject: [No Subject]
Vivek,
When you slowly drifted away from me, I was left here alone.
I still keep designing. But I no longer see you in any of it.
I came to Marine Lines station on many days… for no reason… maybe half in hope, half in anger.
I have become a girl who belongs to no one.
I won’t send you this email… Let it stay in drafts.
But one day, you will understand what I’ve written here.
— Neha
Days passed again…
Months later — one day, CST Station. Heavy rain.
Suddenly, just like he disappeared, he reappeared —
In his hand: Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami.
With deep emotion, she stood before him.
“How could you leave without thinking of me? Was I so unimportant to you?” she asked.
He looked up at her, then softly spoke:
“My mental state back then… it was broken. The startup didn’t get funding. I was shattered. I shut my laptop screen… deleted everything. Aimless journeys, despair. This return is from the depths — just to see you again. But like a miracle, we meet again at the same station.”
“But I was here. I was always by your side,” she said, pained. She cried.
A silence fell between them.
She stood closer.
Vivek said:
“I tried to return many times. But Mumbai never gave me a place I could belong to. Only you kept me tied here.”
Holding her hand, he said:
“I tried calling you often… But when no words came, I chose silence. This return — it’s not just a reunion. It’s a purpose.”
She looked at him through tearful eyes.
He opened his diary
Neha,
You don’t even know where I am.
But yesterday’s rain brought me back to Marine Lines station…
To the day I first saw you.
I still believe I’ll see you again.
I watch every train pass with that hope.
Your absence taught me to love even more.
I see you in every line of code.
I understand the words you never say.
You were my voice.
Even now
I still love you
For you
Vivek
She read the diary and cried.
For a moment, she forgot she was at a railway station.
She embraced him tightly and kissed him.
“Let’s start our journey again,” he said.
“I’m ready too,” she smiled. “As if it’s the first time we’re seeing each other… through the rain…”
“And even if it rains, even if the train is late — I will never let you go again.”
The station grew more crowded. People rushed around.
They held hands and jumped onto the next train.
Seated, she rested her head on his shoulder.
The train began to move.
Rain kept falling.
Sometimes, life begins again — when someone returns.
- The Heartlines of Rain - November 26, 2025
