THE JOURNEY PART 1

I have a habit of reaching places early when I am nervous. I have never missed a train or a flight. On a couple of occasions I have reached the airport two hours before my flight was scheduled and suffered for my stupidity. Yet, I find it difficult to NOT be nervous before undertaking a journey. There is excitement, sadness and uncertainty. I am afraid of uncertainty.

Tushar is driving me to the railway station. He knows me well by now. He keeps the conversation at the bare minimum while driving and does not put on the music system. He does not comment on my looking obsessively at my watch every few seconds. He can sense the nerves. We have only forty five minutes to go before the train leaves and I am close to panic. He knows that too and therefore chooses not to speak. The fast approaching traffic light turns amber just as we reach it and Tushar screeches to a halt.

“Oh come on! We could have made it across that!” I say exasperated.
“I would let you drive but in your state, you’ll probably kill us both.” He says cruelly.
He’s enjoying this and traffic is always a bitch in Bangalore. I am a wreck. Finally the light turns green and we start moving.
“My grand mother drives faster and better than you.” I say caustically.
“Then ask her to drive you from next time.”
“Dude, autos are over taking us!” I say as one of those pesky three wheelers whizzes past us.
“Do you want to take one? I still remember the last time you took one to the airport.” He smiles faintly and I let it go.

The last time I took an auto to the airport he threw me out midway for heckling the hell out of him. The next one did the same thing. Finally the third one got me there.
We take the turn into the train station and as soon as he gets to the entrance, I leap out and quickly pull out my bags.
“There are forty minutes for the train to leave. You’ll be fine.” He smiles reassuringly and I’m grateful for his friendship. “I’ll see you when you get back.” He adds a little sadly and then drives off.

The flat will be pretty empty with him alone over there. I feel sorry but it’s been long since I went to Delhi and I want to see my family and Shefali.
I head out to my platform and into my coach. I see that I have a lower, side berth. ‘I’ll have some privacy’ I think and silently send up a prayer. As my nerves settle down, I realize that I am the only person in the whole coach.
There are thirty minutes to go, I console myself. Someone will get on for sure.

Twenty minutes and still no one. I hit the panic button again when we get to fifteen minutes. I couldn’t possibly be the only soul traveling second AC on this train? I get out and check the charts again. My name is on it so this HAS to be my train. The phone starts vibrating in my pocket. They put vibrators in phones so that you know you are getting a phone call, SILENTLY. I think that lesson got lost somewhere. My phone, when it vibrates sounds like someone farting. It’s pretty loud and not pretty.

It’s Shefali. She’s calling to find out if I’m on the train and to tell me that she’s coming to pick me up at the railway station.
“What time should I get there?” She asks me.
“Ten-thirty and bring along some deodorant because I’ll smell pretty bad by then.” I say jokingly.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take adequate precautions.” She says and I can sense her smile.
“Take care and don’t talk to strangers or eat anything they offer you. Don’t take your head out of the window and don’t get off on any of the platforms.” She laughs at her own little joke. Her laughter tinkles down the phone and suddenly I can’t wait to meet her. It’s been nearly three months since I saw her last.
We say our goodbyes and ‘I love you’s’ and I disconnect the call. Speaking to her always calms me down.

Just when I start wondering if it will be the loneliest journey ever, an army man enters the compartment. He heads towards the compartment opposite me, checks his tickets and stows the two suitcases he is carrying under the lower berths, and then comes back with two more suitcases and a small coffee table. He sparks my interest with the coffee table. There is a very elegant lady who follows him in the third time with a young boy, about four years old. She sits down on the lower berth and looks out of the window into the darkness, trying her best to ignore my inquiring looks. The boy is engaged with the door to our coach. He tries to open the door but doesn’t have enough strength to pull it open so he keeps trying. He puts his hand in between the door and the jamb and tries to push the door open with little success. I look in horror as the door springs go back further with each push and the boy starts swinging the door knowing that at any moment the door will snap back and take a chunk out of his hand.
I react and go and pull the boy inside. The elegant lady suddenly realizes that there is danger to her cub. She takes his hand from me and leads him to the berth admonishing him all the time. Then turns around and gives me a beautiful smile and a ‘Thank you.’
She sounds well educated so we exchange pleasantries. Just when I start thinking that this might not be such a lonely journey after all, her husband walks in. He stares at me and then closes the curtains of their compartment so violently that I am left in no doubt about his views about me. They might not want my company after all.

The train begins to move and the mess bearer appears to ask me what I want for breakfast.
“What is there?” I ask.
“Veg cutlet and non-Veg Omlette.” I am told curtly.
I choose the cutlet as I don’t trust the Indian railways poultry. Come to think of it, I don’t trust anything about the Indian railways.
I take out my disc man and listen to a couple of songs before exhaustion overtakes me and I go to bed on the uncomfortable berth still wearing my jeans, too tired to change.

I wake up at 4.00 in the morning after a night spent tossing and turning on the small, cramped and extremely uncomfortable berth. The lurching movement of the train didn’t help either. Someone disturbed my curtains while walking past my berth. After a couple of minutes of trying to force myself back to sleep, I give up. I get up and realize the couple, who were in the compartment opposite me have moved to another one further down the coach. I go to the loo and do the needful and then put on the disc man while looking out of the window. It’s just beginning to get light. The coffee vendor comes and I get my morning cuppa for five bucks. It is too sweet and there is more water than milk in it. It still warms me though. I watch as the first streaks of red appear in the sky and then the first hint of the sun comes over the horizon. This is my favorite part of the day. Everyone is sleeping. It is so calm and peaceful. The morning dew glistens on the trees as it is not hot enough yet to evaporate it. The birds sing their songs. There is a certain vibrancy in the air. It is the beginning of a new day…. new promises… new beginnings. It fills me with energy and I feel ready for any challenges that life may throw at me that day.

My breakfast finally arrives at eight. The cutlets are very good as they are hot. Revision of my opinion of the Indian railways’ food is warranted. I settle down to read the latest John Grisham Novel that I picked up at the railway station book stall.
The train lurches as there is hard braking and I am thrown forward. Secundrabad has arrived. The train stops here for a good thirty minutes as the engines are switched to different ends. I get off and go hunting for the morning newspaper and some food.
After buying the paper, I was walking back to my coach engrossed in the newspaper.

That’s when I saw her.

She was facing away from me and talking to her friend. I could hear the laughter that came easily and visualize the smile. She smelled like fresh strawberries or maybe it was her cologne. She had thick jet-black hair that fell below her waist. They were left open and blowing slightly in the morning breeze. She wore a pair of blue jeans and a light pink T-shirt and pink bathroom ‘chappals’ that I would have laughed at on anyone else but on her, they looked cute.
She turned and walked in my direction with her friend following her. She whipped her head gracefully and the hair that fell like thick ropes rippled. I was captivated by her face. She had huge brown eyes and an irresistible smile. A small nose that was cute as a button. She had a kind face which glowed with softness and a quiet radiance. She wore no make-up but she was like a vision. She walked past me as I gaped without a second look at me and I knew I had fallen hard for her.
I didn’t know her but was drawn irresitably towards her as if she was a long lost friend. I felt familiarity at a very deep emotional level with her and I did not know why?