Sunday, October 17, 2010

But for the tea at Jamshedpur railway platform


I
The quizzed look in her calm eyes made him flinch for a moment and he was transferred to the past when he would look into those same eyes and would find himself drowning without any regret in the blissful ocean of love, trust and care.

It was during a train journey that he had first met her. 

There was nothing romantically unusual about the first meeting. They both had alighted at the Jamshedpur railway station to have tea and by some innovative method, known only to girls, she had managed to miss her train and if it was not for the classical scene from Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenege, he wouldn't have known to how to give your hand to a girl who is running to catch her train like a bride escaping from her own marriage.

That was the first time their eyes met and soon the casual glance turned into an attentive stare. Her eyes were like the best thing that he had ever seen. The light blue Kurta, the black cascade of black falling hair and a spread of innocence worth their weight in Scottish chocolate was too much for him to fight against.

His non belief in love was taking a serious dent, for he was experiencing the gravity of love that was pulling him down. Something was happening, he could experience it. But to describe it in words was something he would have miserably failed even if he would have tried.

He was falling in love. And he knew that had no chance of coming it out of alive.

This happened on a quiet day of a warm winter of January, 5 months ago. And soon their love became the talk of the small train.

And as their love blossomed from Bhopal Express to the dim lit walkways of Connaught Place he discovered that she was the more extrovert of two, always cajoling him to hold hands, swing legs, run aimlessly on roads, pushing through crowds. When she was in her full bloom she could make a 5 year toddler look like a man planning his retirement.

Every stare of her, her every word were like a gentle flowing stream or a subtle blowing air of a cold breeze. He was living in a world that was weaved by her, every string, every colour of this world was painted by her for him.

She was last thing that came to his mind when he closed his eyes. Wordly desires lost their identity as the intoxicating potion of love started flowing in his veins.

She was like a hand that was guiding him though this world.
II
And then everything came back from the past to the present. A crowd had assembled around the body that was very still. Yet there was something unusual about it as one could sense that a final wisp of breath was still trapped somewhere inside

The people watching him sighed in amazement as he opened his tired eyes for one final time, as the light inside those once bright eyes dulled the rainy morning.

And for the last time in eternity their eyes met again. She had the same quizzed look which she had at that time 
when he had pulled her on the moving train.

He saw her for the last time and his eyelids fell down; never to open again.

1 comment:

Anorak said...

This was simply superb... I enjoyed it thoroughly...and the twist in the ending made it more enjoyable... u have an avid writer inside...keep walking, friend!!!

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