The skies over Delhi had turned a moody gray, the clouds hanging low and heavy, ready to pour their heart out. As the first few raindrops splattered on the pavement, Kushagra Sehgal stepped out of the metro station, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head. The faint scent of wet earth filled the air, and despite the chaos of the city, a small smile tugged at his lips. He had always loved the rain—there was something about it that made him feel like the world slowed down just enough to catch its breath.

He muttered to himself, picking up his pace. His bag, weighed down with sketchbooks and pencils, thumped against his back with every hurried step.

Far away, a street vendor was playing a tune on his old radio. The song drifted through the wet air:
“Rimjhim gire saawan, sulag sulag jaaye mann…”
The melancholic melody of Kishore Kumar’s voice seemed to match the rhythm of the rain.

Kush paused for a moment, letting the song wash over him. He didn’t have time to waste, yet the lyrics stirred something in him—a mix of nostalgia and longing he couldn’t quite place.

“Great, first day of college, and I’m already late,” he muttered, shaking himself out of his thoughts and picking up his pace. His bag, weighed down with sketchbooks and pencils, thumped against his back with every hurried step.

Just as he turned the corner near the main gate of the college, a loud honk startled him. A girl on a bright yellow scooter skidded to a stop, splashing a puddle of water all over his jeans. He jumped back, looking down at his soaked clothes in dismay.

“Are you blind or what?” he snapped, his voice sharper than he intended.

The girl pulled off her helmet, revealing a cascade of rain-drenched hair and a pair of big, apologetic eyes. She brushed a strand of hair from her face and flashed him a sheepish grin. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there,” she said, though her lips twitched with amusement at the sight of his soaked state.

Chot Dil Pe Lagi
Pyaar Hone Laga
Woh Ajnabi Mere Dil Ko
Bhala Bhala Saa Laga...

Kush glared, ready to argue, but her voice softened the edges of his irritation. “You didn’t see me? Are you riding that thing or piloting a plane in the fog?” he shot back, trying to shake off the water.

The girl smirked, stepping off her scooter. “Relax, Mr. Grumpy. It’s just water. And anyway, who stands so close to a puddle during the rains?”

“Who drives like they’re in an action movie?” Kush countered, crossing his arms.

She held up her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. My bad. I’m really sorry. Let me make it up to you—here, take my scarf.” Without waiting for his response, she pulled a scarf out of her bag and handed it to him.

Kush stared at her, bewildered. “What am I supposed to do with this? Dry-clean my jeans?”

She laughed, her voice bright and contagious, even in the rain. “You could, but I’d suggest just using it to wipe off the water for now. By the way, I’m Maithili. But you can call me Milli. Everyone does.”

He hesitated before taking the scarf, his irritation melting slightly under the warmth of her smile. “Kushagra,” he said curtly, shaking his head. “But everyone calls me Kush.”

Milli tilted her head, studying him for a moment. “Kush and Milli. Hmm, has a nice ring to it. Like a duo in some Bollywood movie.”

Kush rolled his eyes. “More like a disaster waiting to happen, considering how our first meeting went.”

Milli grinned, putting her helmet back on. The rain poured harder, matching the rising chorus of the song still playing faintly in the distance:
“Rimjhim gire saawan, bheege aaj is mausam mein…”

“Well, Mr. Disaster, it looks like we’re heading to the same place. Hop on if you don’t want to be late.”

“What?” he asked, incredulous.

“You heard me. Come on, the college gate’s still a good ten minutes away, and with those soaked jeans, you’ll probably get a cold before you even step into class,” she teased.

Kush hesitated but eventually gave in, muttering under his breath, “This is a bad idea.”

As he climbed onto the scooter, Milli laughed and sped up, the yellow streak of her scooter cutting through the gray world around them. “Welcome to your first day of college, Kush! Looks like it’s going to be unforgettable!”

The rain continued to fall, soaking them both as the melody of the song lingered in the background, as if serenading the first chapter of their story.