...And We Meet!

It is exactly 9:06 a.m., approximately twenty-five minutes for the train to arrive. I am sitting here, on the platform at Pune station since the past forty-five minutes.

I knew that the train was scheduled to arrive at 9.30 but I was too impatient to just sit at home waiting. Besides, I was afraid Mum would sense my excitement and become suspicious.

Right now, the platform is extremely noisy and crowded with a variety of people. The hawkers chanting on top of their voices, ladies gossiping in different lingoes, babies crying, friends chatting, men speculating over the share market, hushed whispers, excited voices, sad voices, happy ones, beggars begging for alms, people rushing from one end to the other, the announcements, the sounds of the engine, trains passing by, etc. etc. There is too much commotion, just too much activity around me. It is a typical busy morning of a typical Indian railway station.

Surprisingly, the pandemonium does not bother me. I am too far away from Pune to think about my present surroundings.

I am currently transported to the Himalayas, thinking about our purely coincidental meeting, two and a half years ago when I had gone to Kathmandu, Nepal with my family on a vacation. I was just fourteen then when I first met him and he was around sixteen, two years elder to me.

I remember our very first meeting, which was rather an embarrassing one for me considering that I had bumped into him almost knocking him down, in the hotel corridors. I silently laugh remembering that.

But the first time we saw each other (read-ran into each other), the first time we sophisticatedly exchanged hellos (well that wasn’t our first meeting as I’d only managed to mutter a ‘sorry’ out of awkwardness during the first one), the first time I’d shyly managed to look into his eyes(instantly looking away), we connected.

Something entirely different, different in a nice way passed between us. It was intense, extremely strong, something for which I don’t have words to express, something which is usually referred to as a ‘connection’ happened.

Along my stay there, we got fairly acquainted with each other. I learnt that he was a lad from Mumbai who’d just given his S.S.C board exams and was on a long post-boards holiday.

It was on the last day while bidding farewell that we exchanged our e-mail ids and promised one another to stay in touch.

It was a fortnight since I had come back home when I realised that the Bombay boy I had met back in Kathmandu was still on my mind. In fact I was thinking about him day and night, oblivious to why my mind was constantly occupied by him. Whatever I felt for him didn’t make sense to my fresh teen mind. Finally I decided to write to him.

That’s how we built up a contact, e-mailing, chatting on the net and virtually meeting everyday. Gradually the acquaintance turned into a strong friendship and friendship into love. The connection was always there; just that it needed time to mature. It was two years later, that is six months back when he’d finally confessed his feelings to me and my joys knew no bounds.

After that day our relationship took a new toll. Things changed. We always wanted to meet each other, ALWAYS!!! But distance never permitted us to meet. Well, I know Mumbai is just few hours away from Pune but things just didn’t work out for our meeting.

Today he is finally coming! Coming to meet ME! In a few minutes he’ll actually be besides me, right here. O my God! It is past 9.20 and my nervousness mixed with anticipation is increasing with every second. How does he look now?? Will I be able to recognize him? I had spent every single night in the past few months looking at the snaps we had taken together during various occasions throughout ‘the’ holiday. The original memory of his had gradually faded. The more hard I tried to remember him the fainter and distant it seemed; so now the only clear memory was that of a photograph.

Will he recognize me? Will he say, ‘You’re beautiful’, the way the guy always ends up saying to his girl, in the many romances I’ve read? (Oh yes, I’m still mulling over my looks when my best friend has already told me that I look great and I needn’t worry about my appearance as he’ll anyway like me as he’s in ‘love’ with me.)

How will we greet each other? Are we supposed to shake hands and say hi? Or are we supposed embrace each other, the way they show in movies? My mind is swarming with thoughts.

As the clock ticks 9.25 I get up and start pacing up and down the platform. In another five minutes I am going to meet him. My stomach does a somersault. I am nervous and awfully excited. To my disappointment time is passing by dreadfully slow.

I take a deep breathe and tell my self to be patient and calm. Just then I hear the announcement, ‘The Mumbai-Pune ‘dash dash’ express (I am too bemused to pay attention to the train’s name) will be shortly arriving on platform number two.

I go right to the edge of the platform and peer down the rail line to see if I could see anything. And then in a split second I see the distant smoke coming from the engine and then the engine itself comes to life, followed by the horn of the engine and the rumble of the train. The train has started drawing up towards the platform and I slightly back away. The rumbling of the train is ringing in my ears but I cannot tell if the train is making more noise or my fast beating heart.

The train has started to slow down. My eyes are recklessly searching him. I scan every boogie that is passing by. I look through almost every window, every door trying to spot him.

I am sweating out of anxiety, my hands numb. Suddenly I spot a slowing boogie pass by. In the door of that boogie stands a guy who is gazing out screening the crowd on the platform.

As I realize who it is our eyes meet. The moving train slowly comes to a halt and his boogie is just a few feet away from where I’m standing, towards my left.

He jumps out of the train with a backpack on his bag and flashes a smile at me, his white teeth gleaming.

My heart misses a beat. With wide eyes I stand there dumbstruck simply staring back. I am too anesthetized to even smile back.

My heart starts pulsating louder and louder as he has starts walking towards me. The world around me seems to be spinning fast. Everything around me seems to blur, except him walking towards me in a majestic stride.

‘Hi’, he mutters for the third time, his voice getting a bit impatient startling me. I don’t know for how long he has been standing in front of me, our eyes strongly locked in a gaze. His lustrous brown eyes, the depth of his eyes, the warmness in it, the glint, the innocence, the affection all makes my heart skip a beat. I am simply astounded.

‘Damn!’ I think. ‘I have already ruined the first moment. He must have found me dumb, as I couldn’t even exchange a single hi’.

‘Hi’ I retort, my voice hardly audible.

Immediately his face breaks into a smile. I weakly smile back and look away breaking the magic and then slowly looking up towards his towering face, finally managing to give a full fledged smile.

For another few seconds (which seemed like ages) we stand there simply staring at each other, our happiness visible through our beaming glowing faces.

‘What?’ he finally asks stretching out his hands and shrugging his shoulders.

‘Nothing, just that you’ve grown big and…and cute,’ I stutter studying his face.

‘Oh,’ he guffaws, ’you are neither the small, naïve girl I met a few years ago.’

‘You’ve grown too’ he continues taking my hand in his, ‘you’ve grown into a gorgeous girl, sweetheart,’ he caresses my cheek with his other hand making my heart almost jump out of me and spring back.

‘That I have.’ I giggle.

‘Now will you take me around the city or do we spend the rest of the day here on this lacklustre platform?’

‘C’mon,’ I say taking his hand walking towards the exit.

We walk out hand in hand to make the most beautiful day of our lives, with happiness hovering us.

P.S- This is based on two of my ‘lost’ friends’ true story. I write this as a tribute to their love and the past friendship we shared. May God bless them with lots of such happy moments, prosperity and may they remain together forever.

My Favourite Place!

My favourite place is an invisibly visible place. It’s absolutely colourless and transparent, yet it has many shades. It is vivid and vibrant, bright and light, sometimes dark. There is everything here, magnificent mountains, beautiful beaches, enigmatic evergreen trees and people. There could also be chocolate avalanches and glaciers, vanilla rivers and candy floss farms. I think of something and it’s there. This place is flexible, flexible enough to transform in to what I think, imagine and dream. It is a traffic jam.

It emits happiness and exhilaration, love and jubilance, sometimes sadness, anxiety and anger. It’s contradictory to itself, yet it is my favourite place. You cannot physically see it, just experience its presence. You cannot feel it, but I can. You cannot visit it, except if I love you or hate you. It is very much present, yet absent. It is my favourite place, it is my mind.

A Vagabond at Marine Drive

The famous Marine Drive, my most favourite esplanade is situated towards the south of Mumbai. The movement of the Arabian Sea, changing colours of the sky, ripples in the water and the swift moving traffic of the C shaped boulevard all lure me in to visiting it every time I travel to that city.

Marine drive is the home for the affluent, a tourist’s sightseeing spot, a hangout place for youth, a family joint, a couple’s paradise and a ‘chana-wala’s’ earning place but, what is it for a homeless wanderer whose aim is nothing, simply NOTHING?!

A Sunday evening in the month of June: The road is zooming with cars as usual. Families, groups of friends and couples are enjoying their selves at Marine lines. A lady with salt-pepper hair wearing a white T, pink track pants and jogging shoes brisk walks, panting at regular intervals, with a French poodle at her heel. Another bald man dressed in sleeveless Adidas attire, with a tattoo on his left arm, headphones plugged in his ears, jogs in the opposite direction.

The waves of the sea splashing on the rocks could be heard in the distance mixed with the sweet laughter of a teenager in the nearby group and a hoarse voice of a hefty man. The humid, mildly flowing air has a hint of salt, a typical characteristic of the sea.

The atmosphere is happy and gay and that of celebration and reunions. Smiles, laughter, love and contentment grips the ambience.

Amidst this hubbub, sits a man facing the sea all alone. He sits on his blue, worn out slippers from the fear of someone robbing them off. He is wearing a pair of khaki coloured, stained battered trousers which perfectly covers his emaciated body. His dark green shirt seems to have been unwashed for a lifetime, changing its colour to a muddier green. His unkempt hair stands out shabbily, complementing his over grown misshapen beard and moustache. He has a dark complexion, tanned skin and a triangular face wearing a lifeless expression. His piercing black iris, clearly are a reflection of his mutilated heart.

His identity and origin is ambiguous, though it’s clear from his appearance that he certainly does nothing to earn his living. Maybe once he did earn, like any other layman, may be once he did have a family, a home to return to, maybe once he did live a normal life, of which one does not know. Had he witnessed a tragedy whose consequences are his current state of being, or was he always like this, a solitary vagabond? One does not know!

He stares at the sea, his eyes fixed, observing the movement of the waves. The rhythm of the Arabian Ocean grips him, almost tranquillizes his already frail state of mind.

The sea is always energetic during the monsoon. With great velocity the waves advance the shoreline and splash on the rocks. The rugged surface disrupts the force, the water twirls forming foamy patterns and the waves retreat just to let another wave proceed. This inconsistently consistent ‘come ‘n go’ pattern of the waves forms a sort of a tempo which tends to have a soothing effect on his mind.

Dark clouds hover above, sometimes slightly wafting through the air, colouring the sky grey. The sunrays visible through the clouds look like a stream of silver threads woven across the sky. The ripples in the water shimmer in the reflection of the setting sun. It is a magnificent sight.

The tramp shifts slightly, scratches his head and continues to gaze at the sea, oblivious of the people sitting a few steps away from him and they too are completely ignorant of his presence. He allows the wind to blow in his face, his expressions motionless, not smiling and just frowning slightly. He either seems to be in a deep thought, pondering over something or simply enjoying the cool breeze in leisure.

What brings this wanderer to Marine Drive? What makes him turn his back on the super fast, treacherous, metro life which he survives through everyday and turn to nature instead? Turn to the sea? Apart from its beauty is there anything that the sea can offer to this loner?

Perhaps he associates his life with the sea. What comes has to go back to make space for new things, like the waves do. His once satisfactory life will return to him in a matter of time, but for that he will have to strive hard, shake himself from the tedious routine, get up, and get on his toes like the burly ball of fire rising up from the sea every time it sets, to spread light in his own life. The perpetual rising and setting of the sun and the motion of the waves define the inevitable truth of life-of rise and fall, ups and downs, highs and lows. The sea spreads a sense of calmness through his mind, it seems to motivate him, and he feels secure in the nature’s bounty, from where he came.

After an hour or so of speculating about his life, the wayfarer gets up and walks down the path with a freshly sowed thought of motivation in his heart as the sun dips in the ocean, the moon takes over the sun, peace over noise.

This obscure man is nobody in that cosmopolitan city, yet he is somebody. He is nothing, yet something. He is simple, yet complex; mysterious yet ordinary. For the world he is insignificant, but his inner self is as significant as anyone else’s. It swarms with thoughts, complex emotions and contradictions…he is different from us, yet just like us!