The Train

She was writing furiously oblivious apparently to the fact that she was on The Train with couple of other passengers or of the movements the Iron giant made as it raced on the track. There was a middle aged couple sitting opposite to her, the wife busy with her magazine and her man busy snoring. Then there was the guy who sat in the same berth where she was sitting, bent and lost in the words that were taking shape from her fingers. The guy had been watching her from a long time and wondered what was she up to ? Well, a break up ? A fight at home ? Lay off ? What could it be ? He was tempted to take a peek, felt like reaching out to her and listen to her rather than see her in that status. There was something magnetic about her apart from the fact that she was good looking as any normal next door girl would look. Well dressed, sharp people have problems too ! Well he couldn't resist anymore and moved a little closer.

She didn't seem to notice at all, her legs drawn up in a cross, the writing pad on her thigh, and strands of hair dropping on the page she wrote upon. He thought if only he could be the hair. Is something bothering you ? He finally managed to ask. She was startled and looked at him, not too pleased with the question of course, giving him a look that said,'Please mind your business stranger'. She had never opened up to strangers, could never and of all the moments when she was distressed, trying to put down everything that bothered her on the paper, how could someone intrude just like that ? He persisted, and repeated the question softly,' I know I am not supposed to do what I am doing but a voice inside me prompts me to ask you what is it that's bothering you?'. All sorts of horrible thoughts flashed in her mind. First sympathy, then words of assurance, then luring away to an isolated place and then...'NO', a loud voice shrieked inside her and she said,' Please mind your own business'. Hell ! the same old reaction, why do the women think that all men seek only physical pleasure ? Its o.k. to be cautious, the women have to be, but c'mmon don't they have a better judging sense ? He said,' Fine lady ! I am extremely sorry, I have no right to ask that question but whatever it is that upsets you, it would have been better if you had booked a ladies coupe to do whatever you are doing'. And with that he got up, took out a book from his bag and buried himself in it. 'Fountain Head' the book said. Oh ! gosh ! She thought why does he have to read that book ? There was some very romantic sentence in that...she remembered only the name Roark and the lady protagonist thinks something like 'it was tempting to know that he breathed the same air she did...'

She just kept gazing at the title and when he suddenly sneezed, their eyes met and she couldn't stop herself from looking at him. Then she turned away sighing and looking far away into the sweeping fields, greens from the window. She loved train journeys. You could look beyond at a stretch and the scenes never ended. He doesn't look to be 'that type', she concluded. But still 'Never open up to strangers, Mom had always advised'. Nevertheless she asked him,' Where are you going ? I am sorry if I offended you. I am Pam, Pramila.' Now my turn, thought he, 'Well, you could be on your guard Madam, as you are expected to be, the way your family has 'warned you against unknown Men'. Yes you did offend me but that's o.k. This's not West and I understand. Saying this, he ducked behind the fiction he was reading. She said,' What's your name?'. Strange, these girls, first they will not open up, but when they do, they surprise you. O.k. Pam, Hi, I am Azeem. And I am going wherever this train is going. Now will you answer my question ? She smiled,' No. First tell me about yourself.' He did and what a coincidence ? He lived in the same colony in Delhi where she lived. She became at once all comfortable and they were soon chatting away about the familiar friends they had. Suddenly she remembered what had happened and soon found herself telling him every bit of it. He had moved closer, and watched all the colours her face projected while she talked. She was naive, how could sharp (looking??) girls be so stupid and take to heart certain things so much ?? He put his arms around her, reassuring her with words she needed. Why did it seem so natural to rest her head on his shoulders, slipping her arms around his and feel secured ? He read her pages as she slept peacefully, thinking about the days ahead after having shared this special moment. Well, friendship ? Love ? Don't know. Right now what mattered was the one and a half day's journey that they would share, explore each other...