A Memory in the Monsoon

It was July 26th, 2005 a date etched in my memory for the endless rain that refused to stop.

That afternoon, around 2:00 PM, one of my regular patients from Andheri Lokhandwala visited my clinic. She had come to collect her retainers. We exchanged our usual polite words, and by around 2:45 PM, she decided to leave. The sky had turned darker, and the rain only got heavier. She didn’t want to wait any longer and thought it best to head home before things got worse.

There was some waterlogging outside by then, but nothing alarming. Certainly not enough to warn us of what was to come. She chose to take a rickshaw back to Andheri a routine journey under normal circumstances.

As the rain kept pouring, my anxiety started to build. My daughter, who was supposed to return home from school by 4:00 PM, hadn’t arrived. I tried to stay calm, thinking the delay was due to the weather. But by evening, worry had taken over.

That night, I called the same patient, the one who had left just a few hours earlier, to ask if she’d reached home safely. There was no answer. I found it strange. Throughout her treatment, she had always been prompt in replying, never once missing a call or message.

I tried again the next day. And the next. For a week, I called, hoping to hear her voice or get a simple message saying she was alright. But there was only silence.

Her file still lies in the working records section of my clinic. A part of me still hopes that one day, she’ll walk in with the same warm smile.
But until then, that rainy day remains with me