Ek Choti Si (Love?) Story

He wondered what happened when they went on a vacation. Was it just about the place, or did they behave differently from their formal daily selves?

They were in Darjeeling, and he had always been in love with this place. It was more about discovering the unknown; there were still new surprises about this place. He must admit though that he felt a pinch of pain when he visited the place. It had given him immense love once upon a time, and every time he was back, he doubted if it would still love him the same.

Having spent three days in the hustle and bustle of Darjeeling, they decided to go to Joey's pub. It was an eclectic place known for its selection of Beatles music and was a hit with foreign tourists. The place had changed from last time; it had more light, and in place of jazz and pop, there was a football match on. A group of male foreign tourists was rooting for their teams.

He tried to find the old Joey's pub in the newly renovated place, but his attention was captured by a beautiful girl who was now comfortably sitting opposite him at another table. She was a local and was accompanied by her male friend (boyfriend?). He couldn't help but notice her stylish sense, and his eyes got transfixed. She noticed him looking at her.

Now she was doing different things. She took off her jacket and was wearing a lacy top; there was also a tattoo beneath. She opened her hair and started playing with them gently, posing for pictures that her male friend clicked. Their eyes met many more times, and he was confident this was more than a coincidence.

He left his table and went to the smoking room (he was there with his group). Within minutes, the girl dragged her boyfriend to the smoking room (the manner in which she had control over him told him that he was not just a friend). She stood within a foot's distance and had an animated conversation with him. He was more confident now, and his gaze stayed on her for a longer time. He knew that she was well aware.

He lit another cigarette to buy more time; she did the same. It had now become a game, and no one else was aware. His friend joined the smoking room with his wife, and they reminded him that he was yet to finish his pint. The smoking room became crowded, and he came out; the girl did the same.

The bar closed at 10 pm, but he delayed finishing his beer. She also held on, and after a long wait when nothing happened, her boyfriend coaxed her to finish. His friends also wanted to leave as the barman was already turning off the lights.

They left together, and she was now walking in front of him. She held on tightly to her boyfriend, putting her head on his shoulders and drawing him close. He was sure she was fully aware that he could see everything. It was a message that he must be punished for not reaching out, and he accepted his destiny. They slowly parted ways; he wondered if there could have been a different ending. She came in his dream that night, and by the next day, she just remained a pleasant memory. Darjeeling had its strange ways of expressing its love for him.

The Bridge and the Train

    The train journey began at six in the morning and I had to rise early at four o'clock to make it on time. As I stepped outside, the chilly morning air greeted me and I regretted my decision to take the train. However, the traffic at the railway station was a close call, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I settled into my window seat and the train started moving. 

    The landscape changed rapidly, and soon the bustling city of Kolkata was behind us. The two iron tracks glided swiftly over the crushed stones, converging and diverging with speed and I marvelled at the smooth movement of the heavy train. The fog outside gave the world a mystical quality, and the gentle swaying of the train brought back fond memories. I felt a strong sense of nostalgia as if I had seen it all before. I had seen these vehicles waiting patiently at the railway crossings and children outside waving goodbye. I had also seen these large tracts of fields with lush green harvests and white lilies blooming in water bodies. 

    My father’s job brought him from his mofussil town to a far-off township. This place had neatly constructed quarters with playgrounds in between and large chimneys of the thermal power plant that could be seen from all around. Our family moved miles but we kept on going back and train journeys helped us maintain that link. For nine months we lived in the cosmopolitan township where people had gathered from different regions. Most of them had roots in places like ourselves and they talked about villages and farms that sounded like the place where my grandparents lived. We spent three months of summer holidays with them and undertook two long train journeys for it. 

    I remember waiting at the platform for hours with the sounds of coolies and trains passing by. When it became cold I comfortably lazed in my mother’s lap. If it was my lucky day, I also bought a toy along with some magazines that were always allowed. I never liked sharing things and fought with my sister who will get the window seat. You always wanted the view of the direction in which the train moved and those who got the window of the opposite side were doomed for the entire journey. Today train journeys are few and I cannot fight with my toddler sons to take the window seat; I felt relieved they were not there today with me.  

    As the train crossed a bridge, I hummed the lines by Dushyant Kumar: 

    Tu kisi rail si guzarti hai, 

    Main kisi pul sa thartharata hoon 

    Can the feeling of love when everything looks beautiful and butterflies flutter in the stomach ever be expressed more beautifully?  

    We crossed the Son River on our journeys, and the sight of the vast and beautiful yet menacing riverbed has stayed with me. The sound of the train on the bridge still evokes feelings of awe, fear, and excitement. There is no experience quite like a train crossing a bridge, just as there is no romance quite like life itself. 

    The pace of the train journeys was peaceful, just like the pace of life at that time. We exchanged magazines with fellow travellers, learned about their lives, and made friends. We always brought food for the journey and often shared it with these new-found strangers turned friends. I waited for railway stations when ice cream vendors came and we relished in the small pleasures of life. My father used to get off the train to fill up the water bottle, causing us all to worry about the train starting before he returned.  

    At times, the train would halt in desolate areas for hours, and we would simply look outside. At other times, when another train crossed from the opposite direction, we relished in the thrill of speed. 

    
    Back then, train journeys were a regular occurrence in our lives, but as I grew older and moved away, air travel took the place of these soothing journeys. Today, I was grateful to have taken the train. It felt like someone reminded me from a time that passed by that life is beautiful in so many ways.  We just need to keep our eyes open to look for beauty. 

Let’s Give Back to Society!

People say nothing gives more joy in life than giving back to society. You decide to serve humanity and start zeroing in on what you will give back to society.

You believe that children are the future of society, and you start teaching. You play with the kids to build a bond with them, but soon you realize that the games they play are boring, and neither the kids nor their parents are happy. The kids think you're bad at games, and their parents are not sure if you're a good influence. You decide to teach, but the children's books have information that is hard to explain. One plus one has been two since the beginning, and you become agitated when the kids question it. They say that not only are you bad at games, but you don't know mathematics. Even your own children opt out of your voluntary contribution to society.

You then decide to bring poetry to people, believing that it will redeem a society that has lost touch with love and beauty. You invite guests to a party, and once they become spirited, you start reciting poetry from Ghalib and Makhdoom Mohiuddin. You explain to them about love, separation, and unrequited love, but they're not prepared to take it in. They're either flabbergasted or start laughing. No one is in the middle ground, and you sense imminent furore with people breaking out in angry singing. Poetry has become a chore, and you are tolerating them more than they're tolerating you.

You then decide to motivate people, and an NGO for the homeless agrees to let you give lectures to the inmates. They ask you what they should do with their lives, and you reply, "whatever you like." They remind you that they've already been doing whatever they liked and it landed them in this home listening to your lectures, which is not exactly their idea of success in life. Some depressed people ask you what the point of this life is, and you get into deep thinking. This NGO isn't now so sure that you're the kind of motivation they want to instil in these people.

You feel society is not accepting what you offer because you need to teach them something that you are best at and no one else can beat you. You realise that would be wasting time and not many may waste time to learn about it.

It's difficult to find something that society is willing to accept from you. You make YouTube videos about your mundane life, but everyone is bored with their lives and refuses to waste more time in their life. You try to write stories, but you end up spending time in your own company. Only your wife has read your work, and now often asks you to give back those minutes of her life that she spent reading. She also tells you that by sparing the world the pleasure of your company, you are giving it back to society. You know she's joking, but you keep doubting.

This ping-pong continues for some days, but then you decide it's a loss to society. You then try to give back humour to society; you're still not sure if they will accept it!