“No Mrs. Dutta. I won’t cut the cake. I won’t celebrate until she gets back here. I want to get drenched with her caresses of love”, said Mr. Partho. “Have you gone mad Partho? How can she come now?”, questioned Mrs. Dutta with surprisal. “You don’t know Mrs. Dutta. I have been waiting endlessly for her arrival. I have been calling out her name, looking at the skies all day and night”. As came more of his words, the more he started to turn weak. It seemed as if he is going to fall down. But then Mrs. Dutta helped him to settle on the chair. “Oh Partho. Please be seated. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry” “Barkha!”, yelled Mr. Partho. IV Two hours swept on the clock. Mrs Dutta had left. And Mr. Partho was still on the chair, baffled and dejected. Suddenly tube light in the room flickered. It started with the lightening in the sky. As came the cracking of thunder in the sky, Mr. Partho woke up from his trance. He came to the window and glanced at the sky. A gush of adrenalin rushed inside his veins. Rushing outside of his flat, forgetting of the locks that he left open, he hurried towards the lawn.
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