Grey clouds along with thunder and lightning left a deserted look. The rain gods it seemed were having a field day. Flights were cancelled. Trains were running late. Chaos at this time of the year was an alias for almost every nook and corner of Delhi, the capital of India. Monsoons had arrived and romantic minds were oblivious to the woes of the city. The travellers were having anxiety attacks. Daily wagers were cursing their luck. The traffic as usual was at a standstill. Ramakanth, a constable, had taken leave for a week to visit his village Ballia and make the most of the weather. 

Ballia, is a district in the easternmost part of Uttar Pradesh, a state in northern India. He loved spending his free time with his ageing parents and unmarried elder sister, Sushma. It was his favorite activity to sip ginger tea while his father enjoyed his hookah, a water pipe that is used to smoke tobacco. His mom and elder sister used to add to the revelry by munching on delicacies and sharing all the stories of their village. Time spent with family filled him with renewed energy everytime. These thoughts helped him wait at the station patiently for a couple of hours. Repeated announcements of further delay did not move him much as he was hopeful. 

The platforms were crowded, the public was restless and vendors saw long queues. Business was rolling, life had come to a halt and agitated children annoyed parents. Litter doubled every hour and sweepers tried their best to keep the platforms clean. Rain was in no mood to stop. It poured and poured relentlessly.  Ramakanth minus his official gear looked like one of the commoners. While seated on one of the benches he noticed a lot of things. Railway employees were unaffected, porters too were enjoying a game of playing cards, and ticket counters swelled in spite of the odds. It was a normal day in a typical rainy August. 

From nowhere a dandy looking grey haired man just stood in front of him. Ramakanth was 27 years old but he could easily ascertain that man’s age. 55 years max he guessed. Before he could run his thoughts any further, the grey haired man turned and sat next to him. There was an awkward silence but not disturbing. Ramakanth noticed that the new occupant of the bench was least bothered about his surroundings. From the minute the man sat on the bench he kept looking skywards with a lot of content on his face. Peace rested delicately on his entire being while he marveled at the sky. 

‘Are you a sky lover?’ asked Ramakanth.

‘I love the grey clouds as they are a promise that they won’t last after a heavy pour. The wind will take them away to a new destination and then decantation will be just another routine after an overfill’ said the man. 

‘So you like the journey or the process of filling and decantation?’ Ramakanth was curious. 

‘I guess both.’ answered the mystery man. 

‘Why so if I may ask?’ inquired Ramakanth yet again.

‘Everyone sees the grey clouds and smiles fill up their faces as they are the bringers of rain. Clouds on the contrary unburden after reaching a specific point and move to a new destination with the help of the wind. Guess it reminds me of life.’ remarked the grey haired man. 

‘I see.’ replied Ramakanth. 

‘Do you have a light?’ asked the man.

‘Sorry to disappoint you. I don’t smoke.’ shared Ramakanth.

‘That’s a good habit young man as unknowingly you have saved yourself from a lot of trouble. Keep it this way till you live.’ The man said this and left the bench and never returned. 

For another two hours Ramankanth was seated at the same bench. The train to his village was running four hours late. He kept observing people but that grey haired man stuck in his mind. The man was wearing a very rich deodorant. His clothes were clean and the vibe was refreshing. The air around him was saintly but still something was off about him. On first impression he looked like a professor but post uttering those words on clouds Ramakanth felt that man was broken from within. Years of hurt and ridicule defined his aura when he had admitted those lines on life. Ramakanth just couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong but something still conveyed so much which was not at all readable. 

The train to his village arrived at the announced time after a good 6 hours of waiting and all he could think of was the possibility of meeting his family once again. The journey was worth the wait as he bumped into similar faces from his village who were onboard that train. Loads of catching up was needed and everything just fell in place. It was as if the universe conspired for a delay through heavy downpour only to make it all a memorable affair. His village folks had to shift to his train as their train had got cancelled. It was a fun-filled reunion by fluke. Ramakanth never saw this coming but was happy the way it all had materialized that pouring day. 

A week is enough time to spoil all routines that define a city life. Ramakanth in the company of his parents and sister was living it all. A solitary life in the city had jaded him. Delectable cuisines cooked by the two women of the house revived him. The air of his hometown instilled him with energy. Homecomings were always special and sacred. Quality time colored his days. Nights meant meeting village folks and spending time with the elderly and then retiring to a sound sleep after a well fed tummy. His leaves always turned out magical and used to make him hungry for more. 

Returning to work was always tough. The morning post his return to office life was no different. After distributing the sweets brought from his village to his colleagues he made his way to his officer’s cabin and joined the crew that was getting briefed about the latest developments that had hit the police station. Ramakanth had not missed much; he took a sigh of relief under his breath. He heard the officer to be alert for a specific person who was in the city and could be dangerous for the greater good of humanity. The officer raised the sketch of the person and Ramakanth simply froze. 

A dandy looking grey haired man was printed on the paper that was supposed to be put in the police station’s wanted list headboard. This was the current look of the wanted criminal. A ransom of 10 lakhs was on his head. Surjeet Babu was his name. The file was distributed among the crew present in the officer’s cabin. The file took some time to reach Ramakanth’s hand. When he opened it to read, sweat ran through his entire body. He was sitting so close to a dreaded criminal a week back. Everything was just so awesome about the man but his aura was a give away if only Ramakanth had known who he was. Things would have been so different then and now.

The file read:-

Name: Surjeet Babu

Age: 56 years

Crime: Drug trafficking and killings  – Kills if denied a smoke or drugs run out. 

1st murder at the age of 11. Killed his own mother when she refused to buy him a cigarette.

Father: unknown

Mother: Sarla, labourer.

Place of Birth: Orissa, an eastern state of India. 

Number of killings till date: 10

Any arrests: none

Ramakanth was numb and shaking after reading all this. All he could remember were those lines Surjeet had spoken to him ‘That’s a good habit young man as unknowingly you have saved yourself from a lot of trouble. Keep it this way till you live.’