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...

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...

Life is too short to think little....

Not me but Disraeli said. Quite a chap he must be ! I thought as I looked beyond the sand dunes. Wide expanse of miles and miles of the golden dust with few thorny pop outs. The sand bashing at De

• • 
  • 
    

sert safari had been exhilarating. For a change had hopped onto the SUV with a group of mix match strangers. Days were speeding by at Dubai and a break of ten days was proving too short. Still a getaway was a reward I had given myself. Reward ? Well not really, I wanted to be me just me...in the desert ? Hell yes, for a change.

Thinking little as the philosopher said was just not my cup of tea but there was Shashank who I was going steady with which was o.k. but marriage ? No, my mind said. Why ? we could 'live in'. He wasn't ready. Knowing Shashank I knew the moment he turned 'husband', he wouldn't allow the same freedom he did now. So ? living together, would he ? Ugh ! questions and more questions. Why does life stop at questions at times ? And why is it that at times you want that there be no answers, let it go on as it is. That was what had been happening till he had said 'Lets get married'. And I had said I need to get away. From me ? He had quipped. Well not really him though, it was just that I wanted to be Me for sometime. But when had I ceased to be Me ? No, I had started thinking more for him and so some things that I did before I met him had just taken backseat maybe because I knew he wouldn't like it. Why doesn't one not do the things the mate doesn't like when one is in love ? Now why couldn't I do just that even though I didn't like it i.e. not get married ? He said its good for me. Its healthy. Well I didn't want to do the things that were good for me at times. Why was shashank being patronising ? Is not getting married akin to 'think little'? Why was that phrase haunting me ? Ah ! the grandeur of the desert curves...It matched my mood. I had become o.k. with ups and downs of my moods. Wonder why they call it moodswings, is it to and fro...up and down no its all around... Hey...you ! someone shouted. I turned around to see a huge fellow, looked like an Iranian or may be an Arab, whoever, was a brand advert head to toe. But I liked his voice. 'Mind if I sit here?' and please watch out, there are creatures coming out at dusk, one you missed just now which could have been dangerous'. The world was full of saviours I thought. I said the customary 'thank you' and proceeded with my thinking mode. Somehow the stranger didn't seem like intruding.

'Escaping ?' He said, lighting a smoke. What the... but looking at him made me answer 'yes'. 'Welcome home'. The dunes have all the answers !! There was this warmth in his tone and his facial gestures had all the right elements to connect, at a go. Not surprising, had met a few like them and we were great friends now. "What are you doing here?'' I asked. Having a good time lady ! Strange it felt really good to hear him say that, for once, there was someone who wasn't undergoing the Q and A session and such company right now was apt for the moment. We talked not bothering to ask each other's names or origins. The pronouns were enough and the 'human factor' sufficed. We got up after a while and walked towards the camp which was all set for barbecue, belle dancing and more. We departed having spent a good time promising to keep in touch. Had I got my answer? Well Shashank will have to be patient. This time I am going to do what I liked and he didn't, but by being by his side, not condescending though...

Life is too short to think little....

Not me but Disraeli said. Quite a chap he must be ! I thought as I looked beyond the sand dunes. Wide expanse of miles and miles of the golden dust with few thorny pop outs. The sand bashing at De

• • 
  • 
    

sert safari had been exhilarating. For a change had hopped onto the SUV with a group of mix match strangers. Days were speeding by at Dubai and a break of ten days was proving too short. Still a getaway was a reward I had given myself. Reward ? Well not really, I wanted to be me just me...in the desert ? Hell yes, for a change.

Thinking little as the philosopher said was just not my cup of tea but there was Shashank who I was going steady with which was o.k. but marriage ? No, my mind said. Why ? we could 'live in'. He wasn't ready. Knowing Shashank I knew the moment he turned 'husband', he wouldn't allow the same freedom he did now. So ? living together, would he ? Ugh ! questions and more questions. Why does life stop at questions at times ? And why is it that at times you want that there be no answers, let it go on as it is. That was what had been happening till he had said 'Lets get married'. And I had said I need to get away. From me ? He had quipped. Well not really him though, it was just that I wanted to be Me for sometime. But when had I ceased to be Me ? No, I had started thinking more for him and so some things that I did before I met him had just taken backseat maybe because I knew he wouldn't like it. Why doesn't one not do the things the mate doesn't like when one is in love ? Now why couldn't I do just that even though I didn't like it i.e. not get married ? He said its good for me. Its healthy. Well I didn't want to do the things that were good for me at times. Why was shashank being patronising ? Is not getting married akin to 'think little'? Why was that phrase haunting me ? Ah ! the grandeur of the desert curves...It matched my mood. I had become o.k. with ups and downs of my moods. Wonder why they call it moodswings, is it to and fro...up and down no its all around... Hey...you ! someone shouted. I turned around to see a huge fellow, looked like an Iranian or may be an Arab, whoever, was a brand advert head to toe. But I liked his voice. 'Mind if I sit here?' and please watch out, there are creatures coming out at dusk, one you missed just now which could have been dangerous'. The world was full of saviours I thought. I said the customary 'thank you' and proceeded with my thinking mode. Somehow the stranger didn't seem like intruding.

'Escaping ?' He said, lighting a smoke. What the... but looking at him made me answer 'yes'. 'Welcome home'. The dunes have all the answers !! There was this warmth in his tone and his facial gestures had all the right elements to connect, at a go. Not surprising, had met a few like them and we were great friends now. "What are you doing here?'' I asked. Having a good time lady ! Strange it felt really good to hear him say that, for once, there was someone who wasn't undergoing the Q and A session and such company right now was apt for the moment. We talked not bothering to ask each other's names or origins. The pronouns were enough and the 'human factor' sufficed. We got up after a while and walked towards the camp which was all set for barbecue, belle dancing and more. We departed having spent a good time promising to keep in touch. Had I got my answer? Well Shashank will have to be patient. This time I am going to do what I liked and he didn't, but by being by his side, not condescending though...

For you Dad !

I would always look forward to sit by your side and listen to the endless stories you narrated. Now this would happen only in the frequent train journeys we made every year which meant total three days of travel, few decades back. You would tell me how the rivers and hills were formed as they zoomed passed the window and I would sit wide eyed and wonder about these earthly wonders. Then there were mythological stories from Geeta, Ramayana and Mahabharata, which would mesmerize me. Your way of story telling was dynamic and I could construct all its elements in my mind.

But my favourite story Appa, was the one you told about yourself, how you were a 'self made man', a phrase Mom always used. Your childhood was very memorable you said. You grew up inBhadravati (where you haven't taken us till now), the eldest of the nine siblings. Grandpa worked for the then British Govt. and by all means was a wealthy man. Granny served food in silverware and in true Iyengar (a South Indian community) style, gifted anything silver to the guests. Grandpa bought six racehorses on his friend's advice, and lost money, had to sell 4 of the horses. You said you were nine years old then and because the circumstances reversed, you had to ferry passengers from the railway station in the horse cart. Well as a young boy, you said you enjoyed riding horses minus saddles, and the hardship never seemed too hard for you. You went to night school too. Once you were shouted at by a school teacher for being late, lacking discipline, and when you could take no more, you told him the reality, from then on he helped you. Once while there was a curfew, you were caught by police for ferrying passengers in the horse cart one late evening. Then you were taken to the court. You were scared, but bold at the same time. Now I know why you used to tell me not to be afraid of telling the truth, no matter who stood in front. Well you were a frightened nine year old boy facing the judge who was questioning but who condoned, when he heard your story. How easily you narrated all your hardships but for me it was a mixture of feelings to fathom. For a moment I would be so proud, and couldn't register at the other moment, a nine year old attending school and earning money for his family and that too after having lived a lavish life ! The fact that my brother and I were totally shielded from hardships because you were now a successful Engineer/Manager in a huge organization, made me wonder. Nevertheless, your stories were always a motivation to excel, come whatever may.

I would get annoyed at times when you refused to buy me certain things I wanted, not understanding the family responsibilities you had, of getting a brother and a sister married apart from taking responsibility of educating yet another sister who excelled everywhere under your guidance. You never took a loan because you hated the word. You educated both of us, bought your own house got us married, with your savings ! Relatives, you took care and still do. Well you had to ask someone for a rupee as examination fee and that put you off so much that you vowed never to take a loan for anything. No wonder the credit card system when came into picture, you just couldn't relate to, and told us not to get into it as well. You took care of your mom in her old age, when she couldn't even recognize you and the younger brother who passed away. You had to visit the elderly relatives, during the yearly family vacation and you took us everywhere making us kneel the Indian style. It didn't make any sense then but talk of networking now ! I could see how everyone respected you and us as "Partha's children'. All the math I have learned is because you taught us the hard way, making us repeat the whole text book three times before the final exam. While walking back home from school, we dreaded if you had first shift because you would be home to teach us. You bought a bicycle when your son who was expecting a moped, when he passed his HSC exam with distinction. Talk of disappointment, but which made him buy his first bike with his own money after he landed a good job later. Me ? you brought me up like any doting father, though a bit conservative not allowing me for school or college picnics if they were held too far, preferring me to study at a college close by even though I excelled in studies and who got me married with a heavy heart, the 'Father of the bride, Steve Martin style' but very happy with the choice I made.

Now as we lead our lives as your children, your life story is a torch that throws light on the twists and turns on the paths we walk upon.

For you Dad !

I would always look forward to sit by your side and listen to the endless stories you narrated. Now this would happen only in the frequent train journeys we made every year which meant total three days of travel, few decades back. You would tell me how the rivers and hills were formed as they zoomed passed the window and I would sit wide eyed and wonder about these earthly wonders. Then there were mythological stories from Geeta, Ramayana and Mahabharata, which would mesmerize me. Your way of story telling was dynamic and I could construct all its elements in my mind.

But my favourite story Appa, was the one you told about yourself, how you were a 'self made man', a phrase Mom always used. Your childhood was very memorable you said. You grew up inBhadravati (where you haven't taken us till now), the eldest of the nine siblings. Grandpa worked for the then British Govt. and by all means was a wealthy man. Granny served food in silverware and in true Iyengar (a South Indian community) style, gifted anything silver to the guests. Grandpa bought six racehorses on his friend's advice, and lost money, had to sell 4 of the horses. You said you were nine years old then and because the circumstances reversed, you had to ferry passengers from the railway station in the horse cart. Well as a young boy, you said you enjoyed riding horses minus saddles, and the hardship never seemed too hard for you. You went to night school too. Once you were shouted at by a school teacher for being late, lacking discipline, and when you could take no more, you told him the reality, from then on he helped you. Once while there was a curfew, you were caught by police for ferrying passengers in the horse cart one late evening. Then you were taken to the court. You were scared, but bold at the same time. Now I know why you used to tell me not to be afraid of telling the truth, no matter who stood in front. Well you were a frightened nine year old boy facing the judge who was questioning but who condoned, when he heard your story. How easily you narrated all your hardships but for me it was a mixture of feelings to fathom. For a moment I would be so proud, and couldn't register at the other moment, a nine year old attending school and earning money for his family and that too after having lived a lavish life ! The fact that my brother and I were totally shielded from hardships because you were now a successful Engineer/Manager in a huge organization, made me wonder. Nevertheless, your stories were always a motivation to excel, come whatever may.

I would get annoyed at times when you refused to buy me certain things I wanted, not understanding the family responsibilities you had, of getting a brother and a sister married apart from taking responsibility of educating yet another sister who excelled everywhere under your guidance. You never took a loan because you hated the word. You educated both of us, bought your own house got us married, with your savings ! Relatives, you took care and still do. Well you had to ask someone for a rupee as examination fee and that put you off so much that you vowed never to take a loan for anything. No wonder the credit card system when came into picture, you just couldn't relate to, and told us not to get into it as well. You took care of your mom in her old age, when she couldn't even recognize you and the younger brother who passed away. You had to visit the elderly relatives, during the yearly family vacation and you took us everywhere making us kneel the Indian style. It didn't make any sense then but talk of networking now ! I could see how everyone respected you and us as "Partha's children'. All the math I have learned is because you taught us the hard way, making us repeat the whole text book three times before the final exam. While walking back home from school, we dreaded if you had first shift because you would be home to teach us. You bought a bicycle when your son who was expecting a moped, when he passed his HSC exam with distinction. Talk of disappointment, but which made him buy his first bike with his own money after he landed a good job later. Me ? you brought me up like any doting father, though a bit conservative not allowing me for school or college picnics if they were held too far, preferring me to study at a college close by even though I excelled in studies and who got me married with a heavy heart, the 'Father of the bride, Steve Martin style' but very happy with the choice I made.

Now as we lead our lives as your children, your life story is a torch that throws light on the twists and turns on the paths we walk upon.

Numberless contact

Elen was upset. And when moods played truant, things 'seemed' impossible, she had found different ways to deal, a voracious reader that she was, she had started to put into practice what she read. And in one of those moments, she had connected to 'him'. Well, 'higher power', 'god' whatever one called, she had her own 'contact' whom she could access anytime of the day, anywhere.

She had started to think about 'life and death'. And she wondered at the silly reality that coming into the world, into the present life, was not 'her decision' ! And no matter wherever she reached or whatever she became, departing will not be her decision too. Well, she had read about so many people who had left the world on their own will, but she wasn't doing anything what they did, like renouncing the 'pleasures', 'the world' or something. In fact in her early years, she had been fascinated by the principles of 'Jainism', 'Buddhism' and the life of 'Siddharth' who became 'Buddha'. She had grown up listening to Biblical stories on the radio and the stories of Jesus and his principle of forgiveness always struck chord. She could easily get hurt seeing the sufferings and miseries of people, but she couldn't bring herself to do what Siddharth did ! Well, she had her own set of worries which she had learnt to pass on to the 'contact'.

And today when her thoughts were a bit haywire, she had her cell in her hand as she had just received a call. She wondered if she could call the 'contact' on her cell ! But then he didn't need any number did he? Then she thought if only she could get some sign of the 'presence' that gave her peace, what was that movie where Meg Ryan goes crazy about signs...'Sleepless in Seattle'. Well something like that. And there it was, the 'drone' buzzing besides here, hopping on the clothes line, common sense said 'run inside else you could get stung' but she held on,'Wait, what if this was a sign and there was this 'connect' thing' then it couldn't possibly hurt right?' And she stood on. The bee swooshed passed her in a moment out into the viridity, of course without hurting her! And once again calmness prevailed.