English · Family
today
That Rainy Night
Shyam had returned home after retiring from the army. It was just him and his mother living there; Shyam’s wife and children had perished in an accident. After that tragedy, Shyam had been left completely alone.
I still remember that rainy night. Shyam was my neighbor. My name was Sagar; today, I am Mrs. Vidya Shyam Dhanoua. This is my story.
That night, a torrential downpour was accompanied by a fierce storm. I was completely drenched. Shyam was standing outside his house, enjoying the rain. When he saw me, he immediately called me over. He said, "You’re soaking wet. Come inside and put on some of my clothes."
All the clothes I had put out to dry were drenched by the rain, so I went inside his house. Shyam asked his mother to get some clothes out for me. She told me to take something from Shyam’s wardrobe, but the key couldn't be found anywhere.
After thinking for a moment, his mother said, "Son, never mind. There is only one option left now. If you’re comfortable with it, you could wear my daughter-in-law’s clothes." I fell silent for a moment, feeling hesitant. But outside, the rain and the cold were intensifying; if I didn't change out of my wet clothes, I might catch a cold. Finally, I agreed.
Shyam’s mother picked out a lovely suit and *salwar* from her daughter-in-law’s wardrobe and handed them to me. I put them on. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I was astonished. My shoulder-length hair, the softness of my features, and the outfit—everything combined to give me the appearance of a young woman. Shyam’s mother gazed at me for a while. A multitude of memories seemed to well up in her eyes; perhaps she was reminded of her daughter-in-law. Softly, she said, "Child... today, you look exactly like my daughter-in-law." I couldn't say a word. That night, for the first time, I realized that clothes do more than just cover the body; sometimes, they carry the memories of someone with them. Shyam was standing near the doorway. When his gaze fell upon me, he too fell silent for a few moments. Outside, the rain was still pouring down incessantly. Yet, something was shifting in my life that night—something I had absolutely no inkling of at the time.
As Shyam looked at me, a strange sadness suddenly settled over his face. Perhaps he was reminded of his wife.
Memories of his wife’s beauty came flooding back—her large eyes, long dark hair, the gentle smile that always graced her face, and her simple, unassuming appearance. Whenever she wore a saree or a salwar-suit, Shyam’s gaze would linger on her for a few moments.
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