Rain or Snow?

I drifted in and out of sleep.

My cheekbone had finally found the perfect intersection between glass, metal and seat to rest on and I wasn't going to move an inch. I had my feet on the seat, thighs hugging my chest and my arms wrapped around my calves. My huge trench coat was the blanket. I had pulled it all the way up to my eyes but it was still cold. I knew it would be cold, why didn't I wear a few more layers? I guess I just wanted to feel cold.

I opened my eyes to look at the station, Jahar station. Still a long way to go. The train started moving. The wind brought along with it the smell of something, something I'd recognize even on my deathbed.

It was going to rain.

I looked at the sky to watch one of nature's underappreciated gifts unfold itself. I've always loved the rain. I looked up to the skies and thought to myself, how everything related to the rain is so much like a fight between two lovers.

The mellow wind of insecurities. The white clouds of the mind turning into an ashen grey. Friction like thunder and confrontation like lightning. Words exchanged that cannot be taken back, love drains out and regret is all that remains

And it all ends in tears. Today's tears were not abundant like the wailing on a drunken night, but few and numbered like the tears on a lonely night, when we fiddle with our memories in the dark.

I opened up the windows when everyone else shut it. Beauty of this kind should never be pushed away.

It was just then that someone nudged me with their elbow. I didn't realize I had people sitting next to me till then. Thing is, with my awkward position (to them) and my large trench coat, people would look at me and see a heap of old clothes, an abandoned child or a homeless man and they'd just walk past.

I didn't care what they thought as long as they left me alone.

I guess today was a busy day, not one but two people were forced to disregard the alarms ringing in their heads and had to take these seats.

The one who nudged me was an old man. White shirt, dark blue vest, a matching tie, hair slicked back so much that he almost looked intimidating. What ruined the entire look was his mustache. Like small balls of cotton candy stuck on his lips.

' You mind? ' he asked looking at the newspaper he had whipped out in front him.
' Pardon? '
' You think you could close the window? I'm trying to read the paper ' he sighed and said
' Sorry I can't '
' Why? ' he turned to look at my face for the first time.
' I love the rain '
He paused to look at my face, took a deep sigh again and got up and sat at a farther seat.

Our small conversation had grabbed the attention to the other person who was sitting in front of me. But as soon as I turned my head to look at her, she went back to her business and I went back to looking at the clouds but watched her from the corner of my eye.

She'd worn a white shirt with a grey blazer, her skirt matched the same color. It was one of those skirts that seemed to tie up women at their knees, I often wondered how they walked free in those. She had tied her dark brown hair into a bun and a pencil was holding it together. Her glasses seemed to keep slipping off her nose with all that makeup making it smooth, the glasses were black with streaks of brown.

There was a file on her lap. She had her phone in left hand and was swiping it using her thumb. I watched as she pressed her right thumb against the first, the second, the third and the fourth finger. She kept doing this as she looked into her phone and mumbled to herself. I guessed she was trying really hard to memorize something. I realised I was staring and went back to looking at the clouds.

The first and most immediate thought that came to my mind was something that we'd been told from ages ago ' Don't judge a book by it's cover '. I looked around and all the people I could see and thought all of them probably didn't believe in that line at all. Not a hair out of place, not one crease on their clothes, not one speck of dust on their shoes. I think they all know, that one crooked tooth, one scar or one wrong look would be enough for others to know more than we want them to.

I do not know when all of it became a big tug of war, even the slightest look with a stranger is now a battle, between how much we get to know about them and how much they get to know about us.

I can't expect them to actually believe this age old line. After all, we are taught all of these things to find our own interpretations in our lifetime. At least I'd like to believe it to be like that, life's a bit more interesting like that.

It was just then that I saw her tapping her thumb on her ring finger as she looked at the roof of the carriage. She then sighed, a big long sigh that made it look like her entire body had given up. She slowly picked up the phone she had put upturned on her file. She saw what she had forgotten and flicked herself on her forehead.

I realised I was staring again and looked out the window. I could make out from the corner of my eye that she had pulled out the pencil from her hair and let it fall to her shoulders. For the first time since she got onto the train, she leaned back into the comfort of her seat.

' Which one do you like more, Rain or Snow? '

I turned towards her to check if she was talking to me.

She raised her eyebrows like they repeated the question she just asked.

' So which one is it, Rain or Snow? '

' For me, it would definitely be the Rain'
' Why? '

' I don't know really, I don't know if it's the rain itself that I like or the memories attached to them '

'Hmmm, is that so...'

An awkward silence followed and I went back to looking out the window. I couldn't make up my mind if it was my turn to speak or if the conversation had come to an end.

She went on to take the initiative again and asked

' Where are you getting off? '
' Avola '

' Ah, that's at the end of the line isn't it? Long wait for you'
' Yeah I know '

' So what's at Avola? Or WHO'S at Avola? ' she said with one of her eyebrows arched up and suggestive look in her eyes
' My grandmother '

A smile broke out on her face which she immediately tried to hide
' I'm sorry '
' That's okay '

' So what's the occasion? '
' Nothing really, I uh... Just happened to... Wake up to a memory '

' Wait what?'
' I woke up to a memory '

' Don't people wake up to dreams? '
' At some point, somewhere my mind stopped making castles in the air and instead started replaying memories '

' Plagued by the demons of the past are we? '
' Oh.. You seem to have a way with words '

' You do as well. I had a feeling I'd have an interesting conversation with you '
' I see.. '

I started wishing this conversation would end

' So tell me about this memory '

The woman, is relentless, I thought to myself.
In this day and age when people have too much on their plate to even take a moment to breathe, why does this woman want to know more about me?

She noticed my hesitation and said
' I don't mean to intrude, I was just in a mood to listen to a story. Y'know, get my mind of things, blow off some steam maybe '
' Doesn't that usually help ' I said pointing to her phone

' And that's your second attempt at avoiding the topic '
' Okay, fine! '

She immediately put her elbows on her knees, cupped her face with her palms like a child eagerly waiting to listen to her bedtime story

And I started

''

The memory is about a gift my grandmother gave. It was an old toy camera. It was basically just a small wooden thing with a hole. That hole had five plastic filters attached to it, if I remember the colors were red, green, blue, yellow and pink.
My grandma wasn't exactly proud of the gift. The first words she said as she handed it to me on my birthday were, ' Sorry. Sorry that I couldn't get you anything better than this '
As a kid I didn't understand why said that, because I loved that little thing, was obsessed with it. I'd carry it around on my neck everywhere I went.

It was just another day where I'd lie on the grass and look at the clouds through my camera and it's 5 different filters over and over again. Grandma was nearby, looking after her garden.
At some point, she looked at me, dropped her tools and decided to lie next to me in the grass.

' What do you see from your camera little one? '
' Everything! I see everything around me but in the colour I want to see them in '
' Oh.. and do you like what you see? '
' Yes Nana, it's so much better! '

We lay there in silence for sometime, me with my camera and grandma looking at me

' There is beauty hidden in all things. If you don't see it, it's because you aren't looking hard enough. It's the same thing with us humans you know? We have in all of us some good or the capability to do some good '

All I could do at the time was stare at grandma

' Oh my child, this might have been too much for you, but I hope you remember this as you go through life ' she said as she brushed my hair

I couldn't completely understand what she said then, but I did put my camera down. Maybe I was searching for this hidden beauty grandma told me about

''

' Oh, that.. was.. unexpectedly beautiful ' she said

' Yeah, Nana was different '

' I don't remember the last time I had a nice dream or a nice memory like you say it '

' It's the same with me, but since I did have the rare occurrence, thought I'd go visit her '

' Oh so this trip is one in the spur of the moment eh? '

' If we're gonna regret anyway, better to do what you want to yeah? '

' That makes sense, so how is she, your grandma? '

' Dead '

She looked taken aback. A smile curled at the tip of my lips

' I'm so sorry. But you looked like you enjoyed that one '
' I did '

There was then a small gap of silence which I felt comfortable in. But sure enough she broke it.

' I'm still thinking of your memory '
' And? '

' I'm thinking why it is stuck in my head, I mean the memory itself is beautiful. But way you said it was different as well '
' I'm sensing a question popping up '

' Do you write? '
' I used to '

' I knew it! '