Every drop of rain has a story to tell- a story we can never know completely. Perhaps it's better not to know it since it is a very lonely one. The drop searches for a home with a group of other drops just like it so that they can be united. When raindrops unite, they can do incredible things. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if humans could be like these raindrops. But humans are always alone even when they are together. They are never united like the raindrops. Other times I am more worried about our safety.

My father was struggling outside to fix our grass roof that was getting blown away by the heavy winds that came during monsoon season. The tempest was horrific. I did my best to help him, but I could barely keep my eyes open. Each drop of rain that splashed on my skin sent chills all over my body, and these drops kept attacking me vigorously. We were finally done, but even after coming inside, we couldn't be at peace. The roof could still blow off any second; we knew. It was probably god's blessings that prevented it from happening until now.

It wasn't always like this. To be honest, I don't remember exactly what it was like before this, but I knew there were better days. There were days when we had solid shelter, regular meals, easier access to water, and just happiness in general. What happened? I'm not completely sure. I was too young, but my father always blamed it on the British.

The British had ruled India for years, decades or perhaps even centuries, and each passing day, they only became more and more oppressive. My whole family hated the British and would do anything they could to help the revolution to bring India independence. Currently, my father was very unimpressed with the struggle.

"This Gandhi isn't doing anything useful." he always used to say. "I don't know why people regard him so much. At least Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose put in some effort. All Gandhi ever does is tell us to boycott their goods."

Nevertheless, he participated in all the boycotts. I remember when he took all the clothes in our household that were made with British materials and burned them. I had tried to keep him from burning some of my favorite dresses, but he just pushed me away and snatched them. It took me days to get over it, especially in our current state when supplies were so limited.

My sister arrived a few hours later, completely drenched in the rain. I helped her to warm up near the fire. "The Dandi March ended today, and Gandhiji picked up a lump of salt from the shore. He then proceeded to boil it and..."

"So he illegally produced salt?" I chimed in.

"What illegal? It's our salt from our coast. Why should we pay taxes to those bastards who have no right to be here?" My father and sister continued with the conversation.

"I heard it is awesome. He is going to continue the Satyagraha and go to Dharasana."

"He's asking to get killed or at least arrested. It's not like the British are going to just sit there and watch."

"Pithaji, the British are not as powerful as they used to be, especially since we aren't buying their goods like we used to." she said.

They continued sitting there and discussing the current affairs. At the end of the discussion, we sang patriotic songs. It's true. India should be a free country. Every country deserves independence and self-government, but I had a hard time with all the radical ideas my family had. For some reason, I had to bite my lip every time they cursed the British. My dad was ready to shoot all of them. Throughout my life, all I had heard was of how terrible they were. It seemed so inhumane. I am sure most of these incidents were exaggerated to prove a point or so because I could not believe that people could be so horrible. I always wanted to see the good in people, and for some reason, I felt the British were the same. My mind kept convincing me, despite everything that prevented me from doing so, that the British were not bad. In fact, often times I even longed to meet them, to talk to them, to understand them.

The water still leaked a bit from the roof. It was to be expected, but it greatly disturbed my sleep at night. Water drops kept splashing on my feet no matter how I moved them. I thought about the Quit India movement. It annoyed me slightly that all I could think of was the fact that the British would leave India before I had the opportunity to meet them. I had dreams of wearing beautiful gowns and a hat. I wanted to go to those balls they had at their mansions. I wanted to dance. I even wanted to have tea with the queen. I felt so naive and selfish when I thought of how much my people were actually struggling, and here I was dreaming of all these frivolous things.

It rained all night and even during the day. I did not want to leave the house but I had errands to run in town. My saree was drenched as I had to walk through some unavoidable puddles. At the market, I met my best friend Ragini.

"Hi Nikita!" she yelled. "The prices have gone up again." She walked over towards me. "No matter how much I try Jithubhai won't sell me the squash for less."

"They must be struggling too, Ragini, especially with all the taxes."

"Hey want to come to my house. I've got something."

I went over.

"The madame told me to throw it out, but how could I? It seems to be in perfect working condition too."

"What is it?" I asked.

"I'm not sure, but when I open it, it plays music."

She handed me what looked like a pink hexagonal box. It seemed to be made out of wood. There were beautiful purple and blue damask designs all over it. I opened the box. There was a ballerina twirling inside and a mirror behind her in which I could see my dark reflection. The music was so sweet like a lullaby. I wanted to keep it in my collection of other things the British had thrown away. Most of my treasures came from Ragini, but I also had things like a handkerchief that had slipped from a madame's hand as she was riding in her chariot. It was made of gorgeous blue satin with flowers and birds embroidered on it.

"Ragini, can I keep this?"

"Of course. I had you in mind when I took it, but what will your pithaji say? I'm scared. Besides if he even had a hint that I was working for a British family, he would kill me."

"Why are you so scared? I've hidden all our previous treasures well haven't I? And you know I wouldn't tell a soul about where you work. In fact what's so wrong about working for a British family. We all need to feed our families. In fact, I wish the British would never leave. True the taxes are unforgivable, but their culture is amazing."

"Nikita, what are you saying?"

"Why is your madame mean to you?"

"Not exactly. In fact, maybe I could even say she's nice, but I'm still her servant."

"Can you take me with you, Ragini, to the place where you work?"

"Are you mad? What if your father finds out?"

"Still what kind of life would I have led if I never got to see a British person?"

"Oh, I can help you there." She searched for something in her trunk.

"This is a painting of the young Sahib. He's the madame's son. He's in England right now, but I heard he's coming over soon."

"How did you get it?"

"The frame's worn out so the madame had asked me to replace it. How was I going to find someone to fix a glass frame in a village like this? I kept it in the trunk wondering what to do with it. I was expecting her to scold me soon, but she never mentioned it. There's already a thousand pictures of him there so I'm sure she doesn't feel its absence."

She handed me the picture. I scrutinized it. "He's very handsome," I said unable to take my eyes off.

"Yes but he's a sahib and you are only Nikita, a poor Indian."

"I know that Ragini! I'm just saying."

I don't know why I found the picture so enchanting. He looked like an angel in my dreams. He had huge blue eyes. I knew it was only a painting, but it seemed so lifelike. I had never seen blue eyes before. Ragini had an Anglo-Indian friend who had light brown eyes. I had found that very fascinating, but it was my first time seeing actual blue eyes. It was like I was seeing the ocean through them- a calm ocean that I could get lost in. His hair was brown- the type of hair that is considered unhealthy if Indians have it, but it looked amazing on him. It was in wavy curls running down to his neck. It added to the image of the ocean. Then, of course, there was his fair skin. To be honest it wasn't as white as I imagined it to be. His skin was, of course, lighter than ours, but still very similar. This treasure was perhaps the one I treasured the most. He was unlike any other man I had seen before.

The monsoons kept getting worse and worse to the point where seeing the sun even once a day was a miracle. My sarees never dried because of the humidity. It didn't matter if I was going to get wet anyway, I guess. I even tried drying it inside, but it just made the whole house smell. What was worse were the floods. Shops would get closed for weeks making it harder to ration our food. I guess it wasn't completely bad. It meant I would get more customers to canoe across the river.

I had been canoeing for five years now as a much-needed source of extra income for my family. My sister was a tailor, but business got bad when she refused to use British fabrics. I had another older sister who used to help her out. However, now she has joined the freedom force. My father was very proud of her and wished we could all imitate her. He knew we couldn't though. My sister and I needed to work; moreover, I was just not passionate enough to be a part of the cause.

In the evenings when everyone was asleep I would pull out my trunk that I had hidden under an old, small rug. I had secretly dug a hole and kept the trunk in there, and then I covered it with the rug. The treasure that was on the top was the picture Ragini had handed me. I took great care of it and did not allow even a speck of dust to fall on it. I don't know why it was so precious to me.

I was out canoeing again in the river. I could see the storms heading our way. I didn't get very many customers today. People would have been insane to do anything in this kind of weather. I realized that it would be extremely dangerous for me to stay any longer as well. The rain and the wind blew my hair in all directions. The water even flooded my eyes as it dripped to the point where I couldn't even see. And my umbrella hat had blown away a long time ago. The water was even beginning to collect inside the canoe. I decided to row away while I still had control over the waves. As I was rowing, I saw strange ripples in the water. There were also bubbles coming up. What was going on? I got closer and looked to see a fair hand trying to come up. Oh no! Someone was drowning. I put my paddle down and reached over to see if I could try to grab the hand or some body part, but it was too late. The body was already sinking. I risked it and dived into the water still trying to hold onto the canoe, but the pressure of the winds was too strong. I was forced to let go as my canoe was driven away by the current. I stared as it went down the streams. There was no way I could retrieve it now.

I didn't have time to linger on these thoughts. There was a person in trouble. I kept swimming. The body was sinking slowly. I finally grasped his arm and struggled to pull him to the surface. I gasped for breath and spat out some water as I reached the surface. Then I struggled to swim to the shore. After reaching the shore I panted for breath. This was when I finally paid attention to the person next to me.

He was a sahib, but he looked very familiar. He looked exactly like the person in the picture Ragini gave me. It was the same nose, the same lips, the same brown hair. If his eyes weren't closed then... I opened his eyelids- yes the same ocean blue except much richer and filled with much more light. Did all Sahibs look like this? Then again this is not what sahibs looked like in the pictures I had seen. They always had thick mustaches and straight hair. The man was not waking up.

I checked his vital signs. His pulse was very weak. I tried doing some chest compressions. Then I felt slightly embarrassed to give him mouth to mouth. I had only done it on a dummy before. After a while, he spat out some of the water and groaned before passing out again. His breathing was somewhat normal now. I helped him up again and dragged him to a nearby doctor's office.

Doctor Chander was a friend of my father's. He was also a passionate freedom fighter. It was hard to convince him to take the patient in.

"I'm not treating a white bastard," he said. "How on earth did you find him? Your father will be furious!"

"That's not what's important. I found him drowning in the river. He needs treatment right away."

"I won't treat a sahib."

"What kind of doctor are you? You're supposed to save lives!"

"Why should I take care of a sahib? What has he done for me other than ruin our lives?"

"So you only treat people who have done good to you? I've seen your patients. Some of them are notorious criminals. Do you think of all these things when you treat rapists and murderers?"

"Nikita that's not..."

"Oh, so you can excuse all that just because they are Indians. Just because you are born with Indian blood doesn't make you a good citizen. On the other hand, I have to stand here and watch the life leaving this innocent man. I can sense him getting colder and paler. Please, you are a doctor. You are not supposed to show discrimination towards your patients. I beg you. Please treat this man."

I was ready to fall to his feet.

"Fine Nikita. But only because you said so."

He took him inside the clinic and began the treatment. I waited there for hours hearing the heavy rain as it shook the building.

Finally, the doctor came outside. "He's okay now."

I breathed a sigh of relief and went inside to see him. He was still asleep, but this time, he looked much more at peace. I looked at the doctor who smiled at me. I knew I'd done the right thing. Then on the radio played the familiar anthem- Jana Gana Mana. I couldn't help but sing along. Doctor Chander joined.

"Jana-Gan-Mana-Adhinayaka,

Jaya He

Bharata-Bhagya-Vidhata

Punjab-Sindhu-Gujarata-Maratha

Dravida-Utkala-Banga

Vindhya-Himachala-Yamuna-Ganga

Uchchhala-JaladthaTaranga

Tava Subha Name Jage

Tava Subha Ashisa Mage

Gahe Tava Jaya Gatha.

Jana-Gana-Mangala Dayaka, Jaya He

Bharata-Bhagya-Vidhata,

Jaya He, Jaya He, Jaya He,

Jaya, Jaya, Jaya, Jaya He."

Tears filled my eyes. I looked over to see that the man on the bed was now smiling.

A few days had passed after the incident when Ragini told me some news. The patient was indeed her madame's son. He had just arrived from England when his boat sank in the river. It was a miracle he survived. The madame had come to the clinic a few days later to take him home, much to the anger of Doctor Chander.

I made up my mind then. I had to meet him in person.

"Are you mad?" Ragini said. "What for?"

"Ragini, I think it's destiny. I was the one who saved him."

"Nikita, be practical. It's not like you're in love with him or anything right?"

I didn't respond.

"Nikita, you're joking right! You know nothing about him. Even I don't know anything about him. He could be just like all the other Britishers for all we know."

"I still need to meet him. Will you help me?"

"Absolutely not! Don't be ridiculous."

"Then I'll ask Rukmini Bhai. She has connections."

"The priestess? You can't. She's dangerous. So many people have been cursed by her."

"She's harmless."

I didn't want to argue with her anymore and left to find the priestess. I found her hut and went inside. Her eyes were closed and she was chanting some spells. When she finally opened her eyes, I told her my story. I asked her if there was some spell I could use.

"Oh child, there's no such thing. I have to say it's quite ridiculous that you fell in love with a Sahib at a time like this. Your entire country is ready to go to war against them. Besides, why would he like you? The British don't see the color of our skin as something that happened due to increased amounts of melanin. For them, our skin resembles dirt."

"Look I didn't ask for your judgment on the issue. I just need you to help me. Is there no spell I could use?"

"Child, being a priestess doesn't mean you can do any kind of magic you want. But I do have another idea."

"And what is that?"

"We can dress you up to look like a madame. Your skin is light enough and we can powder it too. If they are still suspicious, just say you were in the sun for too long. You can also, say that there is some Indian blood in you although you are predominantly white. Now do you know English."

I shook my head.

"Are you serious? Okay then just pretend you are deaf."

Deaf? Would that work?

And so Rukmini Bhai helped me get ready. Finally, she took me to the madame's mansion. I stared at the marvelous sight. It was huge. I saw many maids and servants of all colored skins. I suddenly felt nervous.

"Aren't you going in?" She asked.

"I can't," I said. Now I was extremely anxious. I saw many Indian women working there. And I also caught a glimpse of Ragini washing the dishes. "Let's go back." I sighed. The priestess looked at me and smirked.

I went back home to find a furious father. He was holding... Oh no...! He had found my trunk and opened its contents.

"What is this, Nikita?" I couldn't respond. He took the trunk and was about to...

"Stop! Don't please don't!" He wouldn't listen. I fell to the floor and held onto his legs. He pushed me aside, but I clasped onto it again.

"Nikita, what is wrong with you? Why are you collecting our enemy's goods?"

"They're not my enemy!" I cried. Then suddenly the picture of the Sahib was hanging out of the trunk. He took it out.

"Isn't this the man who you took to the hospital?"

How did he know?

"Yes, Dr. Chander told me! I let it slide thinking you were just trying to do a good deed, but what is this? What's your relationship with him?"

"I love him." I whimpered.

His fury grew. He slapped me. "That is not something you should say even as a joke!"

He threw everything into the fire. That night I was lost in thought. What should I do? I went to meet the priestess again.

"I'm ready. Let's do this." She smirked at me. "I'm serious!" I said. She looked into my eyes.

"Well, I see you are. In that case, I'll take you there for one day. If he falls in love with you then, great. Otherwise, you must pay me."

"I don't have much money."

She examined me. "Then that necklace will do." It was my mother's necklace. It was the only thing I had to remember her. I made the deal.

"They are having a party today." She said. "They live in the part of town that is not as badly affected by the monsoon. How typical of the British to take the best parts and leave us Indians with the scum." I was too nervous to pay attention to her.

We finally arrived at the party. It was just like I had dreamed of it to be- colorful and posh. The maids escorted me inside. Then I saw Ragini. I wanted to go up to her, but I remembered the deal. She looked at me and examined me. Then she looked away. I guess she didn't recognize me.

Rukmini Bhai introduced me to the madame. She said some things in English that I didn't understand. Then I looked up to see a man heading near us. It was him- the sahib I had saved. He greeted me and kissed my hand. I blushed.

Then he led me to the dance. They played classical music. The instruments were nothing like our Indian flutes and strings. It had a much smoother tone to it. The garden was magnificent and huge. I could hear birds chirping in the background, and I saw beautiful butterflies surrounding the chromatic flowers. The whole scenery was picturesque. It felt as if I was in a painting. Then I looked at my dance partner. I felt like a princess when I was with him. I thought I was in a fairytale. Finally, he asked me something. I didn't understand. Then he remembered what the priestess had told him. I saw the light in his eyes vanish as he signaled something with his hands. He asked me if I was having a good time. I nodded and smiled. I felt bad when I realized I was lying to him. Then again it wasn't a complete lie. I couldn't understand what he was saying really.

The whole day was fun. I sat next to him as we drank tea and ate snacks. However, for some reason, he seemed very distant from me. His mind was elsewhere, and I felt he was only nice to me out of politeness or habit. I was also troubled whenever I saw Ragini. There she was working hard to make money while I was here flirting with her master. I quickly realized my mistake in coming here and everything.

I was being too selfish. The British enslaved us in our own country. What right did they have? What made them think they belonged here? What made them believe that they were superior to us just because their skin was lighter? It only meant that they didn't know what it was like to toil in the sun. Their culture was not superior to ours. What troubled me more than any of this was the fact that the man I was in love with had no feelings for me. I could see it in his eyes. He experienced no delight in seeing me. And what was worse was this hunch I had. Something told me that he loved someone else. I saw this longing in his eyes.

I decided it was best to leave. I told the priestess. "Are you sure? There's still time until the party is over."

"It's okay," I told her. "What's the point? It's not like I can deceive him for the rest of my life anyway. Besides, he doesn't love me. Even if he did, what can I do with that? We belong to different worlds."

I handed her the necklace, and we walked out. She then left me, and we went our separate ways. As I was walking, I heard the radio playing inside a small store. It was the patriotic anthem. I sniffled as I sang along to it. By the time I was done, I was completely in tears. "I'm sorry, India," I said. "I'm sorry for wanting to leave you like that."

I looked back to see someone standing. It was him- the sahib. What was he doing here? Behind him was the priestess. He ran up to me and grabbed my hand. Then he suddenly hugged me. I was in shock. After he released me, he clasped my face in his hands. What was he doing? He stared into my eyes. Then, at last, he gently kissed me. It was like I had imagined it to be- like a dream come true except much better. I was completely lost and impervious to my surroundings. I looked into his eyes at last. He looked at me with the love I had wished for. The longing in his eyes was gone. What did this mean? Was I the one all along? No way.

I walked back the rest of the way with the priestess. She began to explain what happened. "He was excited to dance with you because you looked so much like what he remembered the girl who rescued him to look like. He only knew that she was Indian and that she had a beautiful voice when she sang. He remembered the voice so clearly; it seems. As each day passed, it seemed like his heart was yearning more and more for her."

I looked at the ground.

"I honestly didn't want to tell you all this. I wanted the necklace; I don't like doing things for free. In fact, I don't know why I made a deal like that in the first place. I guess it was because I was certain you would lose, and I could still build your hopes up for my advantage."

"Why did you change your mind?" I asked.

She chuckled. "Don't be a fool girl. There's no way you two can be together. He's going back to England next week. Then he won't be able to come in years. And by that time, he won't be able to come at all because the Independence struggle is so strong."

He was going away. Well, why was I so shocked? I never exactly expected us to be together.

"Why did you tell him it was me? You could have just let things end this way if there really was no point."

"I'm not that cruel dear. I especially don't like cheating lovers. I know that your love is strong- so strong that not even language can be a barrier."

"Well, what's the point? God, why did I fall in love with someone like him- someone I can never be with?"

The priestess patted me on my back as I began to cry. Now I was indeed confused about what to think and what to do.

***

It had been three years since my life was so eventful. I had learned many things like what it was like to love and that too to love an enemy. And over the past few years, the battle in my mind over how I felt about being an Indian finally came to a conclusion. I was proud of who I was. I loved my identity as an Indian, and nobody had the right to take that away from me. I became more active in helping my fellow countrymen to achieve our goals.

The most important thing I learned was from Gandhi himself. Battles should not be fought with violence and weapons. It should be fought with truth and love. I didn't hate the British. I still remember the time when Dr. Chander refused to treat a white man. It made me realize that his actions were not that different from the cruel actions of the British. I felt less guilty about my love for an Englishman.

Yes, I still loved him. And now after three years I could finally go to England. I stood on the coast of India for perhaps the last time. I looked to the horizon as the sun shone brightly. I boarded the ship and looked back at my homeland. I waved goodbye hoping to be reunited with the love of my life.

sahib- white male

madame- white female

Pithaji- father