Metropolitan Museum of arts is always crowded throughout the year. I am not a crowd-liking-person but I liked this museum. And whenever I come from Boston, I make it a point to come here and thereafter a stroll in the Central Park. And this has been the custom for last 7 years. But today it was different.
It’s been 13 years since I made that last call. And I still remember the "good bye" and long silence of phone thereafter. .......Seems like yesterday.
The cloudy sky suggested a heavy shower and i didn't want to get wet. But my schedule was not over. Every stop here would sub consciously pull me to New York HotDog and coffee. However, I had a feeling that I am not going to make it this time.
It started as a drizzle.
Hundreds of umbrellas suddenly sprang into life. Unlike back at home, they were not black ones. A multitude of colors and unimaginable shapes, and only hint they can be called as umbrella; they were not making you wet.In midst of new world, I was reminder of old world.
Rain had started its sonata.
"come inside, you will get wet"
That voice. The one I have trying in vain to forget, but only to be remembered over and over again.
I wanted to see her face, see those eyes and that smile. I wanted to say "hi". I wanted to know how she was. I wanted to tell what I am doing. I wanted to... turn back and just see a glimpse.
"No mommy, see my hood is on". A little girl, standing may be just behind, me was insisting.
The rain had changed its direction. A drop fell on my face. And then many followed.
It started to pour down heavily.
Everything had changed.
Pic courtesy: Christian Carocca
