Hyderabad Rains – Part 1: Flooded Roads

The rain had started at four in the afternoon and by six it was not raining any more; it was falling. Divya stood at the window of the software office in Hitech City and watched Cyberabad turn into a river. Cars sat in brown water up to their doors. Auto-rickshaws crept past with their headlamps swallowed by the spray.

"You're not going anywhere tonight," said Ravi from accounts, pulling on his raincoat. "Good luck."

"I'm supposed to get back to Madhapur."

"Madhapur is underwater," said Ravi cheerfully, and left.

Divya checked her phone. Four missed calls from her mother and a message from the cab app saying every ride had been cancelled. She sighed and sat down again at her desk.

"Still here?" asked a voice from the doorway.

She looked up. Karthik stood there in a grey shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, a laptop bag over one shoulder. He worked on the design team, two floors down. They had shared a lift every morning for a year and exchanged perhaps twenty words.

"Trapped," said Divya. "My cab is cancelled and the road is a lake."

"I live five minutes away," said Karthik, after a pause. "In Gachibowli. The building is on higher ground. The flat has a sofa, a kettle and very bad coffee."

"That's a terrible offer."

"It's an honest one," he said. "I'm not going to pretend I'm charming."

She laughed in spite of herself. "Are you sure? I don't want to be a nuisance."

"You won't be," said Karthik. "Besides, if you drown on the way to the car, I'll have to explain it to HR."

They waded through the car park at seven, the water up to their ankles and Karthik holding a black umbrella that kept turning inside out in the wind. He took her hand at the kerb, without comment, and walked her carefully across the flooded road to his car.

The flat was small and tidy, with a view of the rain over the lake and a wall of bookshelves in the living room. He made coffee in a steel filter, and it was, as promised, terrible, and Divya drank every drop.

"You're very quiet," she said, from the sofa.

"I'm trying not to say something stupid."

"Say it anyway."

Karthik leaned against the kitchen counter, looking at her with an expression she couldn't quite read.

"I've wanted to talk to you for a year," he said. "Every morning in the lift I thought of something to say. And then you'd look at your phone and I'd lose my nerve."

Divya's heart jumped. "You never said anything."

"I'm saying it now," said Karthik. "Only if you want me to. And only if you're not worried about the rain."

She glanced at the window. The rain was drumming on the glass, endless and loud, washing the city clean.

"I'm not worried about the rain," said Divya slowly. "Karthik, can I ask you something?"

"Yes."

"Did you buy this terrible coffee specially, for tonight?"

He flushed, and smiled, a slow, embarrassed grin. "Maybe."

"Then sit down," said Divya, "and talk to me properly. Green or yellow?"

"Green," said Karthik, and crossed the room to sit beside her on the sofa, close enough to share the blanket.