Do You Still Think Of Me When It Rains?
- Hashtag Kalakar
- Nov 30, 2025
- 2 min read
By Anshul Purvia
I’m sitting in my balcony again.
It’s raining the same way it did that evening,
when you ran out, laughing,
trying to save your stupid white shoes from getting wet.
You always hated mess,
but somehow you still chose me.
The rain hits the railing now,
soft and rhythmic,
like it’s trying to fill the silence you left.
I wonder what you’re doing right now.
Maybe you’re driving somewhere,
windows rolled up,
radio playing too loud to let your thoughts breathe.
Maybe you’re with someone new
who doesn’t ask too many questions
when your eyes drift to the sky.
And yet,
I can’t help but think,
when you see the rain,
do you think of me?
Of that night when we got drenched
and you said,
“This moment, right here,
I could live in it forever.”
And I, foolishly, believed you.
Sometimes I still hear your laugh,
echoing in the walls of my memory.
The way you used to look at me
like I was both a poem and the poet.
We had something rare, didn’t we?
But we ruined it with pride,
with late replies,
with things left unsaid because
we thought love would wait.
If only we hadn’t let those small arguments
turn into distances.
If only we’d stayed a little longer
instead of trying to prove who could leave first.
Maybe right now,
we’d be sitting here together,
watching this same rain,
sharing a cup of coffee,
arguing about who makes it better.
But the truth is,
I don’t know you anymore.
And you don’t know
how many times I still reach for my phone
just to stop myself halfway.
I guess some people
never really leave,
they just become a season.
And every time it rains,
you come back
like a whisper in the water.
So I sit here,
letting the rain soak the edge of my dress,
pretending you’re still here,
laughing, complaining, loving.
And for a fleeting second,
it almost feels
like we never made those mistakes.
Like it never ended that way.
By Anshul Purvia

😥