The Lone Raven
The first snow. Never quite half as romantic as it is thought to be when it disintegrates into dirty, inconvenient slush. It clings and seeps through the cracks in your shoes.
To think he had left India for this!
‘Tourist Guide weds American Tourist’- the news had made headlines. But like the first snow, headlines also lose most of their romanticism in reality. Their pact had been clear - Jenny needed his life’s- savings, Rs. One Lakh, to get back to her country, having smoked away her own dole; he needed to get to the land of opportunity somehow, anyhow.
‘The Indian Husband’ had found himself on the roads once Jenny’s unwashed boyfriend had returned. Bundled out with his backpack, some dollars and ‘thank your stars, no fat lip, you filthy Browny!”
To take his mind away from the chill creeping up his feet, he looked up. Bare boughs, grey skies and….a lone raven.
Indian Cuisine Expert.
Fumbling, bumbling, he’d made his way. Today was the opening of his ‘Tandoori Nights-Experience India!’
A small mention in the local network, some pictures, this time with beaming Radha by his side, still unable to believe that he did mean, ‘ I’ll call you the moment I can, trust me.’
“So what made you stay on despite the odds?”
“The lone raven!”
He moved away, the reporter wouldn’t understand.
Unlike sparrows, ravens stay on, amidst snow, grey skies and bare boughs.
For the eventual Spring.