The Rainy Evening
The evening was dressed in rain.
A drizzle, neither heavy nor light, brushed against the windows of the train, turning glass into fog and droplets into tiny rivers racing each other. The compartment smelled of damp clothes, old iron, and something unspeakably weary. Passengers shifted, whispered, complained, and sighed.
And amid all of that, Jai sat quietly beside his friend Shiva.
Shiva was speaking, filling the silence with stories Jai barely heard, stories of college days, of silly mistakes, of the world outside. But Jai’s mind was elsewhere. His eyes, though open, carried shadows inside them. Life had become a blur for him, days slipping into nights, nights melting into mornings, everything the same shade of gray.
He leaned against the cold steel seat, watching the raindrops blur the world outside. The train’s whistle, once sharp, felt to him like a tired sigh. It was as though even the machine was weary of moving forward.
And then… It happened.
Through the crowd, through the shifting bodies, through the restless movements of strangers, she appeared.
She stood near the door, one hand holding the bar, her dupatta brushing softly against her arm. There was nothing loud about her presence. She wasn’t dressed to be noticed, nor did she seem to seek attention. Yet Jai felt the air around her change.
Her eyes soft, steady carried a kind of laughter hidden within them, like a secret she guarded carefully. It wasn’t the laughter of sound, but the laughter of light. And in that moment, Jai realized how long it had been since he had seen eyes that carried hope.
It was as though someone had suddenly lit a lantern in a dark room.
Jai didn’t know her name.
Didn’t know where she had come from.
Didn’t know if she would step off at the very next station and disappear forever.
But in the quiet aching corners of his heart, something stirred.
For months, life had felt like an endless tunnel dark, narrow, suffocating. But now, with one glance, with one breath of her presence, Jai felt as if there was light at the other end.
Shiva noticed the shift in him.
“Jai, what happened?” he asked, following his friend’s gaze.
But Jai didn’t reply. His lips were parted, his eyes fixed, as if afraid that even blinking would make her vanish.
“She’s just a stranger,” Shiva chuckled softly, nudging him. “Why are you staring like that?”
Jai exhaled, slowly, his voice low and trembling.
“She’s not just a stranger, Shiva… she’s… something else.”
Shiva frowned, amused. “Something else? You don’t even know her name.”
But Jai shook his head gently. Names didn’t matter. Explanations didn’t matter. All that mattered was that in this rainy evening, when everything felt tired and broken, this unknown girl had brought him back to life.
The train moved forward, its rhythm echoing the beat of Jai’s heart. The drizzle outside grew heavier, as if nature itself wanted to blur the rest of the world, leaving only her in focus.
For the first time in a long time, Jai smiled, not the polite smile he wore for the world, not the empty smile he gave Shiva when asked if he was fine, but a smile that came from within.
He whispered, almost to himself,
“She looks like the remedy I’ve been searching for… the medicine I didn’t even know I needed.”
Shiva looked at him, surprised, but didn’t interrupt. He knew his friend had been drowning in silence for too long. Perhaps this stranger, whoever she was, had just pulled him back to the surface.
The bogie was filled with noise vendors calling out tea, children crying, footsteps rushing past. Yet for Jai, it all faded away. The sound of the world dissolved, replaced only by the steady hum of his heartbeat.
He didn’t dare move closer. Didn’t dare disturb her stillness. He just watched, quietly, as if memorizing a painting. The way a strand of hair fell across her face. The way her eyes wandered outside the window, as though searching for something the rain was hiding. The way she adjusted her dupatta with such absent-minded grace, as if the act itself was poetry.
And Jai, who once believed nothing beautiful remained in the world, found himself believing again.
Minutes passed, or perhaps seconds it was impossible to tell. Time had slowed down.
In her presence, Jai realized something he had forgotten long ago:
Sometimes healing doesn’t come with words, nor with grand gestures. Sometimes it comes silently, like rain on a thirsty earth. Sometimes, it wears the shape of a stranger’s face in a crowded train.
And in that crowded bogie, amid voices and footsteps and endless rain, Jai felt alive again.
That evening didn’t just belong to the rain.
It belonged to a glance.
To a stranger.
To the sudden fragrance of wet soil that reminded Jai his soul had not died, it had only been waiting.
Waiting for her.
The Healing Glance
The train rattled forward, its wheels echoing like a heartbeat beneath the floor. The rain outside blurred everything: trees, houses, people into nameless silhouettes. The whole world seemed wrapped in a haze, uncertain, unfinished.
But for Jai, clarity had arrived.
He couldn’t stop looking.
His eyes sought her again and again, like a compass needle pulled towards its true north. And then it happened their gazes collided, just for a moment, just for a heartbeat. Yet in that fragile instant, something inside him shifted.
It was like a dam breaking.
The heaviness in his chest, the silence that had ruled his nights, the quiet ache of loneliness all of it scattered like dust in the wind.
She hadn’t smiled. She hadn’t spoken. She hadn’t even noticed what her glance had done. But Jai felt it clearly. He felt the ground change beneath him, as if the train wasn’t taking him to another city but to another life.
Shiva noticed the stillness in his friend.
“Who are you staring at?” Shiva teased, leaning closer, his tone light.
But Jai didn’t answer. His lips parted slightly, words caught somewhere between heart and throat. For him, this stranger wasn’t just a girl. She was something far beyond description.
Finally, he whispered soft, almost to himself:
“She’s… not ordinary.”
Shiva chuckled. “Every boy says that when he sees a pretty face.”
But Jai’s eyes didn’t move away.
“No, Shiva. You don’t understand. She’s not just a face. She’s…” He paused, searching for the right word. “She's on medicine. A remedy. Something my soul has been waiting for.”
Shiva grew quiet. He had never heard Jai speak like this. His friend, who had carried silence like armor, who had forgotten how to dream, was suddenly alive, trembling with emotions Shiva couldn’t name.
The bogie was alive with chatter vendors shouting “chai, chai!”, children asking questions their mothers hushed, old men discussing politics. Yet all of it blurred into background music. For Jai, there was only her.
Her presence was like a soft melody hidden beneath the noise.
Her eyes, when they met him, weren’t sharp or questioning. They were gentle, almost curious, as if acknowledging his existence without judgment.
And in that acknowledgment, Jai felt seen. Truly seen.
It was strange, almost frightening, how someone who knew nothing about him could understand him better than people he had known for years.
He thought of the nights when silence weighed heavy, when memories clawed at his heart, when loneliness spread like poison. No friend, no advice, no medicine had eased that ache.
And yet, here she was someone he hadn’t spoken a single word to and with one glance, she had pulled him out of that darkness.
How could something so small feel so powerful?
How could a glance heal what months of time had failed to?
Jai didn’t know. He only knew that he didn’t want to look away.
Shiva tapped his shoulder. “Jai, you’re going to scare her if you keep staring like that.”
Jai blinked, realizing he had been frozen. But even when he looked down for a moment, he felt the pull, the need to look again. It wasn't a desire. It wasn’t infatuation. It was something deeper, purer a hunger of the soul, not the body.
“She feels… familiar,” Jai murmured. “Like I’ve known her before. Like she’s a chapter from a book I’ve read in another life.”
Shiva tilted his head, studying his friend. “You’re sounding like a poet.”
Jai smiled faintly. “Maybe she’s turned me into one.”
Outside, the rain tapped harder against the windows, as if applauding this strange connection forming silently in the crowded bogie. The train lights flickered for a second, plunging the compartment into a shadowy glow. In that dimness, their eyes met again.
This time, Jai didn’t feel surprised. He felt… calm.
Her gaze lingered, steady and quiet, not shy, not bold. Just their present.
In those few seconds, Jai forgot everything else.
The passengers. The noise. Even Shiva’s amused grin.
All he saw was her Pihu, though he did not yet know her name.
And for him, that glance was enough.
Words weren’t exchanged. Yet conversations happened.
Unspoken ones. Silent ones.
Her eyes told him she wasn’t afraid of being seen.
His eyes told her he wasn’t looking at beauty, he was looking at something much deeper.
And though neither of them moved an inch, Jai felt the invisible bridge being built between them.
He remembered what his grandmother once said: “Healing doesn’t always come from medicine, Jai. Sometimes it comes from another soul.”
Today, those words lived before his eyes.
This stranger, this girl standing by the train door, was his medicine. His unspoken cure. She hadn’t tried, she hadn’t meant to, but she had breathed life into him.
The moment stretched, fragile like glass, yet precious. Jai wanted to hold it forever, fearing it would shatter.
Shiva broke the silence. “So… what will you do? Just stare at her until the train reaches the last station?”
Jai didn’t reply. He was too lost, too immersed in that glance, too afraid that if he spoke too loudly, the spell would break.
But inside, his heart whispered: Even if she leaves now, even if I never see her again, I will remember this. This glance. This evening. This rain. This remedy I was blessed to find, even if only for a moment.
The train roared into the next station, brakes screeching, passengers shifting restlessly. But Jai didn’t move. His world had already shifted.
The world outside could remain blurred by rain. For him, everything was clear now.
Her eyes. Her presence. That glance.
The medicine his soul had been waiting for.
The Vanishing
And then, suddenly… she was gone.
One moment, she was there standing near the door, her presence like a quiet lamp in the storm. The very next, she dissolved into the restless flood of passengers shifting at the station.
Jai blinked, leaned forward, but the space she had occupied was now empty. His chest tightened instantly, as if someone had stolen his breath.
He turned sharply to Shiva.
“Shiva… where did she go?” His voice trembled with urgency, eyes wide like a child afraid of losing his only toy.
Shiva frowned, confused. “Relax, yaar. Maybe she just stepped off at the station.”
But Jai couldn’t relax. He couldn’t even breathe properly. His pulse raced, his palms turned restless.
“No, no… she can’t just vanish like that. I need to see her again.”
Before Shiva could respond, Jai shot up from his seat. His body moved faster than his mind could reason. He pushed through the crowd, brushing shoulders, bumping bags, ignoring the muttered complaints of strangers.
“Excuse me… excuse me!” he murmured again and again, but his eyes weren’t on the faces around him. His eyes were searching, desperate, frantic like a thirsty man hunting for water in a desert.
The bogie felt endless.
Each corner he checked was empty. Each passing second stretched like a lifetime.
Inside his chest, a fire burned the fear of losing her, the stranger whose name he didn’t even know, but who had already carved herself into his soul.
Shiva followed behind, calling out.
“Jai! Stop acting mad! What are you doing? You don’t even know her!”
But Jai’s ears refused to hear. His heart roared louder than Shiva’s words.
He pushed past an old man with a walking stick.
He leaned, peering through gaps between passengers.
He stood on his toes, trying to scan the sea of faces.
Nothing.
Every girl he saw made his breath hitch, only to collapse into disappointment when it wasn’t her. His heart kept playing tricks, Maybe that’s her? No. Maybe there? No.
It was agony.
Shiva finally grabbed his arm, pulling him to the side.
“Arre pagal! Stop running like this. You’re going to get us thrown out by the ticket checker. What’s wrong with you?”
Jai pulled free, his eyes burning.
“You don’t understand, Shiva. I can’t lose her. Not like this. Not without knowing… something. Anything.”
Shiva stared, bewildered.
“Lose her? Jai, she was just a stranger. You don’t know her name, her city, or anything! What are you holding onto?”
Jai’s voice broke, trembling between anger and pain.
“I’m holding onto the only thing that has made me feel alive in months, Shiva. Don’t you see? She’s not just a stranger. She’s…” His words cracked, “…she’s the cure to something I couldn’t fix in myself.”
For a moment, Shiva softened. He saw the rawness in Jai’s eyes the same friend who had spent nights in silence, staring at ceilings, avoiding the world. Now that same friend was breathing fire because of a single girl.
Shiva sighed. “Fine. Then let’s find her. But running like a madman won’t help.”
Jai nodded quickly, scanning again.
“Maybe she moved to the other side of the bogie.”
They began walking slowly, peering seat by seat.
Every turn of Jai’s head felt like a gamble between hope and heartbreak.
Minutes passed. Nothing.
His heartbeat, once fast, now sank heavy with despair.
Maybe Shiva’s right… maybe she got off. Maybe I’ll never see her again. Maybe she was meant to be nothing more than a passing glance.
The thought stabbed deeper than he expected. The idea of never seeing her again felt like losing a lifetime of happiness before it had even begun.
He leaned against a pole, his breath uneven. His throat ached, his eyes stung.
“Why… why does it hurt so much?” he whispered to himself.
Shiva placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Because, Jai, you gave her more meaning than she even knew she had.”
And then, just as Jai lowered his head in defeat he froze.
A flash of color. A familiar presence.
He lifted his eyes.
And there she was.
Standing near the far window, her dupatta brushing lightly in the wind sneaking through the half-open frame.
Jai’s heart stopped. Then roared back to life.
He whispered hoarsely, “Shiva… look.”
Shiva followed his gaze and sighed with relief. “Ah, so the princess hasn’t vanished after all. She was right here.”
But Jai couldn’t even smile. His body trembled with the intensity of the moment. The fear of losing her had burned him alive, and now the sight of her healed him instantly, like cool rain on fire.
It was overwhelming. Too overwhelming.
He didn’t move immediately. He just stood, staring across the bogie, watching her in silence. The world blurred again the noise, the people, even Shiva beside him.
She was all that remained.
Jai whispered to himself, as if making a vow,
“I won’t lose her again. Not this time. Even if I never speak, I’ll hold onto this moment.”
Shiva nudged him lightly. “So? Go. Stand near her. At least try to talk. What’s the worst that can happen?”
Jai shook his head slowly, his eyes still fixed.
“No words are needed right now. This glance… this finding her again… it’s enough. More than enough.”
The train jolted forward, whistling into the night. Passengers swayed with the rhythm, the rain tapped louder on the windows, but Jai didn’t care.
He had lost her once.
He had found her again.
And in that fragile, fleeting miracle, he learned the truth:
Sometimes love begins not with conversation, not with touch, not even with a name
But with the terror of losing someone you never thought you’d find.
The Reunion
The train rattled forward, carrying countless strangers, each lost in their own worlds. But for Jai, the world had narrowed into a single prayer to let me see her again.
His chest ached with an emptiness he couldn’t name. It was absurd, he knew. He didn’t even know her name, her story, her destination. Yet, her absence gnawed at him like he had lost something precious.
“Jai,” Shiva’s voice cut through his restless silence, “tu itna bechain kyun ho raha hai? She was just a stranger, yaar. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.”
But Jai shook his head. “No, Shiva. She was… different. I can’t explain it. She wasn’t just someone in the crowd.”
Shiva sighed, rolling his eyes. “Bas, tujhe dekh ke lag raha hai tujhe kisi ne jaadu kar diya hai.”
Maybe it was magic. Maybe it was madness. Jai didn’t care. His eyes scanned every corner, every shadow. And then
She was there.
Pihu.
Standing quietly near the window, her dupatta danced lightly with the wind that slipped through the narrow gaps. A slant of evening light brushed against her face, painting her in hues of gold and silver. For a heartbeat, Jai wondered if she was even real or just a vision sent to heal his broken soul.
The chaos of the train melted away. No vendors shouting, no children crying, no wheels screeching against the tracks. Just silence. Just her.
Shiva followed Jai’s gaze and smirked. “Aha… so she’s back. Lagta hai teri dua sun li gayi.”
But Jai wasn’t listening anymore. His world was locked in those eyes.
Their gazes met. This time, it didn’t flee. It lingered. Held. Spoke.
There were no words, yet there was a conversation.
Her eyes asked softly, “Why were you searching for me?”
His eyes whispered back, “Because I couldn’t breathe without seeing you.”
She tilted her head slightly, a question hidden in her silence. He responded with the faintest smile, a smile carrying both relief and vulnerability.
For Jai, that glance was more than enough. It seeped into the cracks of his heart, healing wounds he had carried too long. Wounds that medicines, time, or even friendship couldn’t touch.
He whispered under his breath, almost to himself, “She’s the remedy…”
Shiva nudged him again. “Go talk to her, idiot.”
Jai froze. Talk? Words suddenly felt too heavy, too clumsy. What if speaking shattered the fragile beauty of this silence? What if approaching her turned magic into something ordinary?
So, he stayed where he was. And yet, it didn’t matter. Because Pihu, with her gentle eyes, seemed to understand everything he could never say aloud.
The train rocked, pulling them both closer and farther in turns. A strange rhythm, as if destiny itself was teasing them, separating them for a breath, uniting them in the next.
Jai took a slow breath. “Shiva…” his voice cracked with awe, “she doesn’t even know me. But it feels like… she sees me. Truly sees me.”
Shiva, for once, didn’t joke. He looked at Jai and realized his friend wasn’t exaggerating. Something rare had happened here. Something that couldn’t be explained with logic.
Minutes passed, though they felt like stolen eternities. Neither Jai nor Pihu spoke. They didn’t need to. Their silence became language. Their eyes became bridges.
The evening rain outside grew heavier, tapping against the glass like music. And in that music, Jai felt his soul breathe again.
Pihu’s lips curved into the faintest smile, delicate, hesitant, yet real. A smile that said, “I see you. I feel this too.”
That was it. No grand confession. No dramatic scenes. Just a smile, a glance, and a silence that carried the weight of a thousand unsaid words.
The train whistled loudly, jolting Shiva. “Looks like the next station is close,” he muttered.
But Jai didn’t move. He didn’t want the moment to end. He knew life was unpredictable. She could leave again, vanish like before. But even if she did, he had been given something precious.
Hope
And hope was enough to keep him alive.
As the train slowed, Pihu’s eyes lingered on Jai one last time. A silent goodbye or perhaps a silent goodbye or perhaps a silent promise. Jai couldn’t tell. He only knew one thing: the scars inside him had softened. The weight on his chest had lifted.
She had healed him, without touch, without words.
The train screeched, and people rushed toward the doors. In the crowd, Jai and Pihu’s gazes broke. For a heartbeat, fear clawed at him again. But then he smiled.
Because healing wasn’t always about possession. Sometimes, it was about presence. Even if brief. Even if wordless.
And in that one reunion, Jai had found his remedy.
The Departure
The train slowed with a heavy screech, brakes grinding against metal. Outside the window, the drizzle had softened into a mist, the kind that clung to the air like memory itself. Vendors’ voices rose, passengers shuffled, and the rhythm of movement filled the bogie.
Jai sat frozen, his heart caught between hope and dread. He had seen this before the moment when people vanish into the crowd, never to return.
Shiva noticed his friend’s stiffness and leaned closer. “Lagta hai station aa gaya. Tera raaz ki rani utar bhi sakti hai.”
Jai’s jaw tightened. The thought stabbed him. He wanted to stop time, to hold the moment in his palm forever. Yet, life never asked for permission to move forward.
His eyes darted toward her.
Pihu.
She still stood near the window, her dupatta brushing gently against the breeze. She hadn’t moved. Not yet. And that tiny fact became Jai’s lifeline.
But then she shifted. Slowly, deliberately. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her small bag. The crowd pressed closer to the door, urging her to step down.
Jai’s chest burned. His heart screamed. No, not yet. Please, not yet.
He rose impulsively, almost stumbling in the rush. Shiva caught his wrist.
“Jai what are you doing?”
Jai’s lips trembled. “I don’t know… but I can’t let her go without something.”
Shiva stared, then sighed deeply. “Toh ja. Don’t regret it later.”
For a second, Jai stood still. His legs felt heavy, like they were chained by fear. Fear of breaking the fragile magic. Fear of speaking and ruining what silence had built.
But when Pihu turned her head ever so slightly, her eyes meeting him across the bogie, Jai felt his breath shatter. That glance was goodbye. He could feel it.
And suddenly, his legs moved.
He pushed through the passengers, brushing past bags and elbows, his gaze never leaving her. She didn’t move away. She didn’t hide. She simply stood there, watching him come closer, as if she had been waiting too.
The train hissed, preparing to halt.
For the first time, Jai stood only a few steps away from her. He could see the tiny raindrops tangled in her hair, the faint curve of her lips trembling with some unspoken thought.
Words rose in his throat. Say something, Jai. Anything.
But when his mouth opened, silence escaped. Only his eyes spoke, desperate and raw.
And Pihu… she smiled. Not a full smile, not laughter but a small, delicate curve that carried more than words ever could.
It was a smile that said: “I see you. I’ll remember you.”
The train screeched to a stop. The doors opened. The crowd surged forward.
Pihu took a step, then another, her dupatta brushing against him like the faintest farewell. She didn’t speak. She didn’t turn again. She simply vanished into the sea of passengers, swallowed by the station’s chaos.
Jai stood frozen, his hands trembling at his sides. His world had gone quiet.
Shiva appeared behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “She’s gone, Jai.”
“I know,” Jai whispered, his voice hollow yet steady.
Shiva frowned. “And you didn’t even say a word.”
Jai turned slowly, his eyes still fixed on the empty doorway. A strange peace glimmered in his gaze, like a candle refusing to die out.
“No,” he said softly. “But sometimes, silence says everything.”
The train jolted, pulling forward again. Jai sank back into his seat, the space beside him painfully empty, yet his heart strangely full. He closed his eyes and let the memory replay the window, the glance, the smile, the farewell.
He didn’t have her name. He didn’t know her story. He didn’t know if their paths would ever cross again. But he knew this: she had healed something inside him.
For Jai, Pihu was no longer just a stranger. She was a moment. A remedy. A chapter of his life that would never fade, even if it lasted only a train ride.
The rain outside thickened, the droplets racing down the glass. Jai leaned back, whispering almost to himself:
“Some people don’t stay… they pass through like rain. But they leave behind a fragrance that lingers forever.”
Shiva didn’t reply. For once, even he understood.
And so, the train carried Jai forward not toward an ending, but toward a beginning. A beginning born from a single glance, a single stranger, a single departure that had become an eternal memory.
