Monsoon Clouds - 10. Rahul is Gone
Chapter 10: Rahul is Gone
10.1 The Reunion with Rahul
I dressed in Rahul’s favorite mustard color chudidaar, my heart restless with anticipation. I hadn’t slept properly for days, thinking only of him. Both Mom and Dad were equally excited to meet Rahul after such a long time, eager to talk about his mother’s health and the plans for our marriage.
Rahul arrived around 4 PM after finishing his office work. Manoj dropped him off and left immediately, without waiting, which Rahul barely noticed—he was too excited to see me. Seeing him after so long was one of the most wonderful moments of my life. He had lost some weight and looked a little dull compared to his usual lively self, perhaps due to his mother’s health or my absence. The moment he spotted me behind the curtain, his smile returned, and I felt a rush of joy. I wanted to hug him, kiss him, jump, and hold him close, but with my parents nearby, I restrained myself. When I realized my dress was wet, I understood I had been crying for a long time—tears of happiness, not sorrow.
Dad asked about his mother’s health and when we could talk about the wedding. Rahul, in a shy voice, said they had one more check-up, and after that, everything would be fine. Only then could we plan the wedding. Hearing that, both of us felt shy, while my parents were thrilled. After tea and snacks, Dad left for Rama Rao Uncle’s house, giving the opportunity to provide us some privacy. We sat together in the hall, careful not to reveal too much, as the world only knew us as friends with a prospective marriage on the horizon.
Our eyes spoke what our lips could not. We silently expressed how much we had missed each other over the past days and nights. I noticed Rahul making subtle gestures for hugs and kisses, but I gently resisted, alerting Mom would be watching. Instead, I asked about his mother and her treatment. He apologized for not contacting me regularly, explaining that he couldn’t do anything that might distress his mother, as warned by her doctor. He asked me to be patient and cooperative until things settled, assuring me of the beautiful life we would share together.
Rahul shared his dreams—our future children, grandchildren, and countless memories yet to come. In that moment, I forgot all the pain of the last few months, including the Manoj incident. I wanted to tell Rahul, but I didn’t want to hurt him or disturb his relationship with Manoj. A question he asked about my closeness with Manoj made me uncomfortable, though I assured him Manoj was just a friend, nothing more. Though Rahul seemed content with my answer, the slight frown on his forehead betrayed his thoughts. Perhaps it’s natural for every man to have some doubt.
The topic of Manoj made the atmosphere heavy, and silence settled between us. Rahul tried to lighten the mood with jokes, but they didn’t land. He then shifted the conversation to our wedding, describing in detail the arrangements, dances, food, and celebrations. He even whispered about our first night, his voice soft and meant only for me. Just as the moment felt perfect, the horn of Manoj’s bike outside interrupted us, snapping me back to reality.
* * *
10.2 A Painful Farewell
Rahul asked Manoj to come inside, but Manoj gently declined, saying his father had asked him to return early. Rahul too had to leave that night, as his mother’s medical check-up was scheduled in the next couple of days. Hearing the conversation, Mom came into the hall, leaving us with no chance for a farewell hug or kiss—but our eyes said everything our bodies couldn’t.
Even when Mom insisted that Manoj step in, I only exchanged a formal hello with him, and he responded in the same tone, careful not to raise any suspicion. Without prolonging the moment, Rahul began to walk out of the house. It felt like my heart was being separated from my body—he left his heart with me and carried mine away with him. For the outside world, we waved and smiled, but inside, we were breaking.
Rahul sat in the back seat as Manoj started the bike. At that moment, Manoj felt like Yamaraj to me, taking my life away while I stood there helplessly watching. I kept waving until Rahul disappeared from sight. The instant he was gone, I rushed to my room and broke down in tears. I didn’t know exactly why I was crying—I just couldn’t stop.
I cried until Mom called me for dinner. Dad appreciated me for taking good care of Uncle’s house, unaware of the countless sweet and bitter memories I had lived within those walls. Guilt slowly crept in—for everything I had done without my parents’ knowledge, and for all the wrong choices I had made. The weight of it all sat heavily on my heart.
* * *
10.3 When Joy Turns Into Ruin
Good things, when they happen, seem to arrive in a beautiful sequence—and sadly, the same rule applies to bad ones. While we were still glowing from Rahul’s visit, Uncle and Aunty returned from the US. They were happy to see us, though their joy was mixed with longing—for Sandhya, and especially for their grandson, Ayush. For us, their return brought a sense of strength and completeness. Mom took special care of them until they settled back into routine. Sandhya sent gifts for everyone, and Uncle and Aunty brought things for us as well.
Days passed listening to their stories—life in the US, wide roads, culture, the experiences of Indians there. Slowly, life returned to normal. Uncle resumed work, Aunty got busy with household chores, and their conversations often drifted back to Ayush.
Yet, amid all this normalcy, a strange uneasiness crept into me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that after so much happiness, something terrible was waiting to happen. My instincts kept warning me. I became restless, unable to eat or sleep properly, clinging only to prayers that everything would pass smoothly.
One morning around 8 a.m., Dad was getting ready for work, I was preparing to leave, and Mom was busy in the kitchen. The phone rang. For the first time, that familiar ringtone felt like a death bell. My heart skipped a beat. Dad usually answered calls, and he did this time too. From my room, and Mom from the kitchen, we both listened instinctively.
All we heard was Dad’s trembling voice after the
initial greeting:
“How can you say that? Please don’t say that… we have already informed everyone
here… Hello… hello… please listen to me…”
We rushed into the hall. Dad had collapsed onto the sofa, sweating profusely. The phone lay on the floor, beeping endlessly like an ECG machine. He was crying uncontrollably, unable to speak. No matter how much we asked, all he could say was, “It’s over… everything is finished… what do we do now?”
Mom and I began crying too—without even knowing why. I gathered myself first, brought Dad a glass of water, and tried to calm him so he could explain. After a while, through sobs, he told us about the call.
It was from Rahul’s father. He had bluntly said they were not interested in the match and were withdrawing the marriage proposal. There would be no further communication, and we were warned not to contact them again.
Dad broke down again. This time, Mom joined him, crying even louder. I stood there frozen—speechless, emotionless, like a lifeless body. I couldn’t even cry. My pain was far beyond tears. All I felt was that I no longer had the right to live.
For the next few hours—how many, I don’t even know—our house felt like a graveyard with three living corpses. Despite my own shattered state, I forced Dad to eat something and take his diabetes medication, knowing another health crisis would destroy us completely. He resisted, but finally agreed, holding onto a faint hope that things might still be resolved.
The only person who knew the truth was Manoj. Rahul’s parents refused to answer our calls and had clearly warned us. I wanted nothing to do with Manoj, yet in utter helplessness—crushing my self-respect—I went to see him.
He was reading when he saw me. I grew restless, struggling to steady myself. After everything that had happened, his attitude toward me had changed. Guilt had softened him; he treated me with an unusual respect and often tried to avoid me, as if my presence reminded him of his mistake.
This time, though, he knew why I had come. I could see it in his face—he was prepared with an answer. Still, I hoped he would tell me something—anything—that would help me understand.
I told him about Rahul’s father’s call. He said he already knew. Then he stood silently and said he didn’t know anything more.
That wasn’t enough. I refused to leave.
Finally, he spoke.
“That would be my usual answer. But what I’ve done to you is not small. So I’ll
tell you everything—though I’ve been warned not to. I’m doing this only because
of your love for Rahul.”
He took a deep breath and continued.
“After Rahul left from here, he pushed hard for marriage—at least an engagement. During the pending medical check-up, doctors found two more blockages in his mother’s heart that required surgery. But she refused the operation. She said she would rather die than see Rahul marry you. She openly told him that she didn’t want his marriage with you while she was alive.”
Rahul was trapped—between his mother and you. Doctors and his mother gave him a deadline. She stopped him from even contacting you, threatening to stop taking medicines if he did. Rahul called me several times, desperate for advice, but I was helpless.
Finally, the deadline arrived. Rahul had to make a decision—because if he didn’t, he might lose his mother forever.
* * *
10.4 A Decision Made in Helplessness
In that moment of utter helplessness, Rahul finally said yes to his mother.
She already had a match waiting for him—someone from her extended family who had settled in the US long ago. They were well-established, citizens of the country, owning petrol bunks and Indian stores. Their only daughter, Ria, born and raised in the US, admired Rahul deeply. They wanted her to marry him and take him along, so he could manage one of their businesses.
Rahul’s mother knew very well about his long-standing dream of going to the US. She believed this proposal was perfect for him—even though Rahul had always imagined that dream with me by his side. Ria and her parents were scheduled to arrive in India within a few days, and plans were already underway for a grand wedding within a month, once Reena aunty’s surgery was completed. The paperwork for Rahul’s travel was also in progress, ensuring he would leave for the US immediately after the marriage.
Manoj said Rahul had called him, crying uncontrollably, explaining the situation in which he had been forced to take such a decision. Rahul felt consumed by guilt, unable to face me or even speak to me. He blamed himself for everything, torn and confused, knowing clearly that he was not happy about this marriage—but agreeing to it solely for his mother’s sake.
As Manoj finished speaking, he broke down again.
I collapsed into the chair, completely disoriented—unsure of where I was, what I was doing, or even whether I was still alive. He brought me a glass of water, but I couldn’t stay there any longer. I walked home as if hypnotized, disconnected from reality.
I went straight to my room, fell onto the bed, and cried uncontrollably. Mom spoke to me when I entered the house, but though my eyes could see her, my ears couldn’t register a single word.
Dad tried to gather the truth on his own. With the support of Rama Rao uncle, he spoke to Agarwal uncle and confirmed everything Manoj had said—though only the highlights, stripped of emotion.
I was completely lost, directionless, and drowning in guilt. I didn’t know what to do or whom to talk to about the mistakes I felt I had made. Hatred for my own life crept in, leaving me blank and hollow.
I lay in my room for hours—if not longer—not really sleeping, but crying endlessly, trapped in my thoughts, unable to see what my next step in life could possibly be.
* * *
10.5 When Life Collapsed Overnight
I heard Dad calling out loudly, his voice breaking with tears—“Laxmi… Laxmi… Rekha… Rekha…” I don’t know how long he had been shouting like that. The moment I heard him, I rushed to his bedroom without a second thought. As soon as I reached the room, my legs gave way and I sank to the floor. Dad was holding Mom, crying uncontrollably, calling her name again and again. Her right hand and leg were twisted, and she was unconscious. I had never seen my father cry like that. I couldn’t control myself and broke down along with him, but I forced myself to recover quickly to think about the next step.
Rama Rao Uncle was back in town. I called him and explained everything. Uncle and Aunty arrived almost immediately. Uncle called for an ambulance, while Aunty began rubbing Mom’s hands and legs, asking me to do the same. That night was the worst of my life. All four of us waited in the hospital corridors as Mom’s condition was critical, and the doctors did not allow anyone inside. We had no option left except to pray.
I started blaming myself for everything. I felt my mother was being punished for all the mistakes I had made. I begged God again and again to take my life instead and save my Mom. We spoke to the doctor a few times during the night, but all they could say was to wait until morning. We were waiting for the sun to rise with some good news, yet terrified of what we might hear.
God finally heard our prayers. The doctor’s face was calmer in the morning, and his words gave us hope. He called Dad and Uncle into his chamber and explained that Mom’s condition was under control. She had suffered a paralysis stroke, possibly due to overthinking and worry. With physiotherapy, regular massage, and mental peace, she could recover gradually. Those words brought immense relief. We met Mom, who had regained some consciousness and was able to communicate a little, though the doctor advised complete rest.
Ravi came the next day and stayed for a couple of days before leaving to attend his classes. Dad and I stayed back to take care of Mom. Dad spent his days at the hospital, while I managed the house and prepared food. Aunty helped us a lot during that time. I slept in the hospital at night. Once Mom’s condition stabilized, she was discharged, though regular check-ups were required.
Just when life seemed to be settling down, Rahul’s father’s phone call struck us like a hurricane, wiping away whatever little happiness and peace we had regained. Our home felt like one devastated by a storm—everything broken, everything lost.
I resigned from my job because I could no longer step into that office filled with memories. Above all, Mom became my only priority; she needed constant care. I lost track of days while taking care of her, pretending to be strong on the outside while crying endlessly within. Slowly, she gained confidence and strength, even though my heart was still shattered.
Rama Rao Uncle felt deeply sorry for everything that had happened. Once Mom started feeling better, he went to Delhi to speak with Rahul’s parents and try to convince them. Dad and I felt it was useless, but Uncle wouldn’t listen. His effort gave me a small ray of hope in the darkness of my life—maybe, just maybe, Rahul would come back. I began waiting for good news.
Uncle returned with news far more painful than I could ever imagine. Seeing Mom’s fragile condition, I couldn’t even cry or express my sorrow. At the same time, I couldn’t end my life either, because my parents needed me desperately. It felt like a landmine had exploded in my heart when I heard the words—Rahul got married. Those words echoed endlessly in my mind. I couldn’t accept it. My Rahul had married someone else.
I wondered how I was still alive after hearing that. Maybe I was already dead, and the Rekha who remained was only alive to take care of her parents. That moment made me realize I had no other purpose left in life—to look after my parents and keep them happy.
Rekha ceased to exist the day Rahul was gone
* * *
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