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“A Monsoon Promise – An Indian Love Story”
(For YouTube channel – Coastal News Odia Stories)
Total duration: ~30 minutes
Language: Simple English
Narration pace: Slow and emotional
Background: Soft Indian instrumental (sitar, flute, light rain, or tanpura hum)
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Namaste friends.
Welcome to Coastal News Odia Stories.
Today we bring you a tale of love, faith, and waiting…
A story that begins with a drop of rain,
and ends with a promise kept through time.
This is — “A Monsoon Promise.”
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The First Rain
It was the first rain of the season.
The earth breathed again after months of heat.
Children ran barefoot through puddles.
Women filled shining brass pots with fresh rainwater.
And the air smelled of life.
Under a tin roof, stood Aarav — a quiet young man, watching the sky.
Across the street, under a red umbrella, was Meera,
a girl in a yellow kurta, clutching her notebook tightly.
For a moment, their eyes met.
The world slowed.
Raindrops fell between them like music.
And just like that — love began, quietly, beautifully.
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Letters and Laughter
Days passed.
Aarav and Meera met again — at the library,
at the temple fair,
and under the big old banyan tree near the lake.
They talked about books, dreams, and what they wanted to become.
Meera wanted to teach little children.
Aarav dreamed of being a writer.
He began to write her letters.
Not on a phone.
Not on a computer.
But by hand — folded carefully,
and slipped inside her notebook.
Every letter ended with the same line —
> “When the monsoon returns, I will tell you what’s in my heart.”
And every time she read those words,
Meera smiled — a smile that stayed even after the rain stopped.
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The Seasons of Waiting
The seasons changed.
The summer returned, hot and restless.
Aarav left the town for a job in the city.
Meera stayed back to finish her studies.
They kept writing to each other — for a while.
But slowly, life began to pull them apart.
Letters came late.
Some never came at all.
Still, whenever the sky turned gray,
Meera looked out her window and whispered —
> “Maybe this monsoon… he’ll come.”
Days turned to weeks.
Weeks turned to months.
And then, one year — no letter came.
The rain still fell.
But the promise hung in the air — waiting.
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The Lost Message
In the city, Aarav worked long hours.
His eyes grew tired,
his heart heavier each day.
One night, unable to bear the silence,
he sat by the window and wrote —
> “I love you, Meera.
I always have.
When the monsoon returns, I’ll return to you.”
He sealed the letter carefully.
But fate had other plans.
On the way to the post office,
a sudden storm hit.
The letter slipped from his bag,
fell into a puddle,
and was carried away by the wind.
Ink washed away.
Words vanished.
But the promise remained.
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Years passed.
Aarav finally returned to his hometown.
He was no longer the shy young man who once stood in the rain.
His hair had silver threads now,
and his eyes held a thousand unsent letters.
He walked through the familiar lanes —
past the mango trees, the temple,
the school where Meera once taught.
Then, near the banyan tree,
he saw her.
Meera — standing under that same red umbrella.
Older, quieter… but her eyes still bright with kindness.
She looked at him and smiled.
“You’re late, Aarav,” she said softly.
“The monsoon came every year.
I waited in each one.”
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The Promise Kept
Aarav couldn’t speak.
Tears mixed with the rain.
He held her hands and whispered,
“I tried to come back.
I wrote to you, Meera…”
She nodded.
“I know. I found your letter —
washed up near the temple after the flood.”
For a moment, neither spoke.
Only rain,
and the sound of their hearts remembering.
Then Aarav said,
> “I made a promise once —
When the monsoon returns,
I will tell you what’s in my heart.”
He looked into her eyes, smiled through his tears,
and said softly —
> “It’s still you, Meera.
It has always been you.”
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In the years that followed,
people often saw an old couple walking in the rain —
two umbrellas, two hearts, one story.
They taught children how to read,
planted trees,
and shared tea with laughter under the veranda.
Aarav’s book finally got published.
Its title was “A Monsoon Promise.”
On the first page, he wrote:
> “For Meera,
who waited through every rain.”
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Friends,
Love isn’t always about big gestures or perfect timing.
Sometimes, it’s about waiting —
through summers, through storms, through silence.
If you believe in love — like Aarav and Meera —
remember this:
The monsoon always returns.
And with it, sometimes… love too.
Thank you for listening to this story —
A Monsoon Promise.
Please like, share, and subscribe to Coastal News Odia Stories
for more soulful tales from the heart of India.
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