The short man A, as we have been told, finally got his chance. The coast was clear. “Ah!” he said to himself, “Finally, I’ll get to see.” He looked keenly but saw no blood, none whatsoever on the road. He looked around for a corpse or a bloody face, but there was none. Finally, he saw a boy with a bandaged foot, ably supported by his friends. He thought, may be, they have the answer.
“Did you see the victim?” asked A.
“Which victim?” asked the boy with the broken foot.
“They say there was a terrible accident, a truck hit a young boy…” said A.
“Oh!” said the boy.
“You didn’t see it either?” asked A.
“Oh, no, no, I saw it,” said the boy.
“Was he serious?” asked A.
“Yes, he was. Very serious, we thought he’d never make it,” said the boy.
“is he fine now?” asked A, concerned.
“Oh yes,” replied the boy, “He is out of danger. Almost ready to fly…” he added and couldn’t control smiling.
“What! You shouldn’t make fun, young man. No wonder, God has punished you with that broken foot!’ said A and walked off cursing the world, which, he thought, was certainly devoid, now, of those splendid virtues of humaneness and feeling for a fellow creature.
I sat on a bench on platform number three, all by myself. It was one forty fine in the night and my train was two hours late. The station was a lonely place at that hour, lacking all the effervescence of the day. A few shops were still open a few passengers still there, but to me they were all non-existent. I was in the strangest of moods, one of those that people often term philosophical, and my mind was a gamut of emotions. In my hands was a copy of ‘Carry on Jeeves’ but even its brilliantly humorous prose had ceased to have an effect. I was supposed to be happy but I was not, not entirely.
I was supposed to have a sparkle in my eyes, but, instead there was just a brooding look. I was just a train journey away from the love of my life with nothing to stop me, surely, but I did not give in a thought. Often, I have experienced, when victory is so near in sight and a tough, thorny journey about to come to a close, the eye is pensive and the heart sentimental. And, so was my case.
One thinks at such junctures, not about the awaiting trophy, but about the journey to it all. The resulting prizes, that, once, solely occupied the mind, fade at this junction before the journey to the prize itself. One feels nostalgic about the path that has been traveled, and is sad to think that it will all be over soon. One, has subconsciously, fallen in love with the path, and yearns for it. No matter how difficult the path was, it had become a way of life, and knows one will miss it.
Ironical, I reflected, as I thought about all the chapters that had brought me hither, to the penultimate stop in this entertaining expedition. All along, there had been so many ups and downs. Yet, I had enjoyed them all, deriving thrill out of the many adventures, treating each hurdle as just another challenge, another test of my will and love. But all along the journey, I had wished to see the end of it;. I had waited, all along for the day when I’d meet my love and, now, when the day was nearer than ever, I hesitated to move ahead. I’d miss those times, I knew. Right from the night she told me she could not come, to this night, I’d miss it all: The planning, the plotting, the discussions with friend…those treasured conversations with Shreya…deciding the trip dates and the route to take… booking the tickets… that shower of soda and the tussle with her professor… that phonecall to professor as my dad… the broken expensive wedding card… almost being included in the shot-put team… the exploitation of the Biobull… the search for the doctor… the broken foot… finally, it was all going to end. I felt sad.
I had met so many wonderful people, those who had helped me arrive here, and I was thankful to them. The world had good hearts, still, Vineet, Rishabh, Pritish, Ria didi, Bajrang, my sisters, Nitin, Shradha, Peela, Dr. Prbhakar, Shreya… it was a gladdening thought.
My journey had been all about love. I had discovered more and more, along the journey, how strongly and sincerely I loved Shreya. And it gave me a felling of goodness and gladness. The understanding been about discovering what love actually was, and understating that it went much deeper than holding hands and talking romantically… understanding that love may be in the longing, the missing, but more in the waiting. That it may be in passion, in desire, but more in the desire, the passion to do anything for someone. That love was about facing thousand of storms with a smile, knowing that just one sight of her in the end will make it all worth it. The journey, for me, was all about love.
Sitting there, I couldn’t help thinking about my mother, father, sister and everybody back home. I missed them. Words of Sneha, Palak and Ria didi kept coming back to me. They had all advised me not to go in such a fashion, changing trains and fooling professors. “What if something happens?” they had all asked me. “If by chance, God forbidding, I don’t even know how to say it, some accident…” Sneha had said. It all came back to me. I prayed that all should go well with my train. I couldn’t dare to imagine how unforgivable a deed it would be, and what would happen to them all, if something wrong happened. I prayed, trying to shut out all negative thoughts.
Just as so many emotions played around in my mind, the train entered the station, and, for some moments, I got busy in transferring my belongings and my own self.
I often say,
and my saying certainly reinforced itself presently. The brooding look slowly made way for the sparkle. The train brought with itself fresh excitement and energy. I, cheerfully, sat down on my seat, and looked out of the window at the starlit sky as the train started to move. The breeze was cool and it flirted with my face, stirring in me, once again, bright emotions of love and victory. Gone were the philosophical tones; it was not a brood, I told myself but a time to remember forever.
Nothing could stop me now, I was on my way.I woke up with a start. I was in the deepest of slumbers on the top berth, when, all of a sudden, I heard an explosion. Sleepily, I looked right and left from my base, and everything seemed alright in the compartment. I closed my eyes, trying to go back to my sleep, cursing whoever had made the noise. I strictly disapprove of such ghastly acts; they shake one to this core. I have a small, impish cousin, who has this habit of going around bursting balloons in the ears of sleeping beauties, and I tell you, having been a victim, it is a shock like no other. One jumps, at once, almost hits the ceiling, and shudders while coming down. These sudden blasts come like death knells, and one takes his own sweet time to recover.
Thank fully, this time the sound seemed to have come from somewhere far off, like a fat man from the top berth to the floor. And, being in the middle of the deepest of slumbers, I slept again quickly. These unwarned blasts are no good to the nervous system, and I tremble to tell you that another one, several decibels louder than my brother’s balloons, went off soon after. This time, I went off too like a rocket, and in the process hit the low ceiling with a clang. I could feel my heart throbbing in my mouth. I am not shaken that easily, I must say, but this sound would have shaken the stoutest of soldiers, who sit calmly on our border, used to treating bombs as flimsy fire crackers. It seemed that a bomb had gone off right underneath my berth, if not closer, and I was dizzy from the impact with the ceiling. The only comforting fact was that I wasn’t the only one shaken; it had not been a bad dream after all – I had heard some hundred other distinct clangs; my fellow top berth brothers had broken their skulls too.
Suddenly, the train stopped and people started talking anxiously among themselves. I had no one to turn to and remained in my berth, stiffer than ever, keenly keeping an eye on the corridor. Something was wrong, for sure. A wise man in our bogey announced weakly, “There are ghosts in these parts. An army of ghosts has infested the train… make no sound… I am from these parts and I know. A similar incident had happened a long time ago.” Nobody dared to ask him what the outcome had been then. I wanted to talk to someone. It was bugging to remain as stiff as an over-baked below cautiously, half expecting to find a ghost, except that I didn’t know how they looked. Instead, I saw a man crouched in fear. I couldn’t see this face. It had hauntingly in a shadow.
“Hello,” I said in a whisper, hanging my head down, and at that, our friend crouched more and suppressed a cry. “Don’t worry, I am not the ghost,” I resumed, clearing my credentials. It was essential for further conversation.
“Then, don’t hang like that, like a bat, you almost killed me,” he said, relieved.
“Fine,” I said, and removed my head, “Can we talk?”
“Yes,” he hissed, “But quietly!”
“Do you believe in ghosts?” I asked.
“No, no way…” he replied.
“Good, nor do I, let us tell these idiots that the man is bullshitting.”
“Are you mad?”
“Why, you only said you don’t believe in ghosts,” I said, bantering “Still, why take a chance?”
“True,” I said.
There was a silence. A pin-drop one, as it is sometimes defined. People had stopped whispering fearing that any sound might wake up the sleeping monster.
“At least, turn on the light!” I said, feeling it would be safer. Ghosts like it dark, I had heard.
“Are you man?”
“No, I have heard ghosts are afraid of light!”
It seemed the man only knew two sentences.
“Can you say anything else? You keep mumbling ‘are you mad’ and ‘why take a chance’.”
“Will you shut up?” he whispered, as loud as he could in a whisper, and that made me happy. His language was not a limited as I had thought.
“Good, you can speak! But, I tell you, ghosts are afraid of light.” “So, I have heard too!”
“Or was it fire?”
“Yes, it was!”
“We can’t be sure, I wish mom was here. She knows about it exactly.”
“Mine too, I guess!”
“Hey, you know what? My dadi has always told me that all ghosts and monsters were killed by Ram.”
“Who is Ram?”
“Rama, the God!”
“Oh…”
“Don’t be so afraid yaar, one should enjoy adventures. Anyway, if she is right, then there are no ghosts…”
“So, I have heard too!”
“Then, why be afraid?” “And, why take a chance?”
The man was incorrigible. He seemed to me one of those plump baniyas who wouldn’t take a chance anywhere. I don’t like such people. Life is all about risks, I always say. Realizing the man won’t budge from his point of not taking chances, I decided to give in.
“You are right, why take chance? May be one, just monster had escaped, somehow, from the arrows of the Lord Rama, and my dadima might not be aware of him. So…why take a chance, may be, he is the same demon, or possibly he has multiplied…but how…”
“Will you shut up?” he beat his old loudest whisper record. “Yes, I will,” I said, and we were immersed in silence again, a deafening one, let us say this time.