i was all blah blah blah about BITS and the educated ones looked proudly at me, probably seeing the future of the country in engineers like me :P That was when she turned up...
pure gold. golden skin,golden-brown eyes and hair, pink lips though, but they did just fine...
she brought alongwith her a sudden silence into the berth, as everyone, men, women and innocent children turned to grasp a look, while she cruelly climbed onto her upper berth, not acknowledging anyone's stares... as for me, i was seated right below her, in the lower berth. I was mesmerized enough to die to look at her again, but poor me, couldn't see her.. the tharki uncle (just couldn't find a better substitute for the word :P) had his neck turned up 90 degrees, and kept looking at her, talking shit about where she was headed, and if she needed assistance, he didn't seem likely to offer any... mine was the middle berth, so i quickly made a plan... i finished my dinner, and asked the people in front of me to vacate the seat, they just had to go till surat and hence asked me to climb up and later on come back to my berth... and i smiled my way up to the berth opposite hers...
and then i saw her again... my problem is whenever i see a pretty face, my vocal cord goes for a walk, my sweat beads get hyper-activated, my sense organs and hormones get disorganized and my legs persuade me to bolt... well there wasn't much scope of bolting in the small bogie. I fought with this series of chemical reactions within, as i'm pretty used to them, having spent 4 years in a boys school. I quietly spread my travel bed, or whatever it is called, to lie down... that was when her lips first parted 'do you really feel this cold'...i meekly replied 'i'm very concerned about comfort when i sleep', not trying to disclose that my mother had forced it upon me... i somehow managed to add 'where are you coming from'... she'd hardly been outside mumbai. 'let the train cross surat. then you'll experience the desert winter'. It was december and we were in the sleeper coach.. so the weather was sure to play its tricks, and although she was a muslim, as indicated by her layers of clothing, i knew she was in for some shivering...
and so it happened... she was crouching under her bedsheet, trying to make the most of it in vain... while i sat snugly in my bedroll, reading 'first impression', rather trying to, owing to the dangerous surroundings... and they parted again 'good for you. i won't be able to sleep all night in this cold'... i smiled, wanting to offer her an exchange of the beddings, but i held back, and asked 'who is it you've been SMSing all this time'... it's like she was on a leash and i'd released her, tons of words began to flow through her lips as i watched them, i mean the words, play with my meek brain... i listened on, as she poured out all about her best friend, and how the two hung out all the time, and how she avoided guys, understandably so. From my infinitesimal knowledge of the opposite sex, it seems that all indian girls' prime desire is to marry. She told about the hundreds of offers she has rejected as she didn't like them. She was aware that she was the dominant factor in the decision, and so she kept warding off the weeds, but lately she'd found a guy who looked like hrithik roshan amd earned two lacs per year, she specified the figure in bold. i giggled, the average pay package back home was way higher in my case, and although i was no hrithik, i did garner the courage to say 'you could do much better' which prompted her to show me his pic, the guy did resemble slightly. She also told how her first cousin was hell bent on marrying her, i had an uneasy feeling, but apparently it was common in her community. All this time we were talking, mostly it was her, but i made my own, however insignificant contributions. but then at some point i got conscious, i wasn't accustomed to that amount of talking to a girl, i tried then to focus more on my novel, while she slowly drifted back to her phone and then to sleep...
i woke up at about 9 am and she was gone. i felt dejected, and as i was about to sink back into my sleep's deadly clutches, she returned, having washed her face... droplets of water still glistening on her skin... i managed a 'good morning', and she let loose again. i guess she was lying about not talking to boys much, but at one point she did mention a guy friend besides me, yeah, those were her own words within hours of our first and last meeting, but then i felt stupid. i didn't even know her name... and so the quest began from saints to prophet muhammad to muslims to their long names... i finally asked her as an excuse 'by the way what's your name?'... she looked down and shyly replied "jasmine"... as she looked down, i was way up on cloud nine, although i had 12 hours with no more than 6 feet apart and 10000 words of conversation, i had finally managed to ask the name of the most beautiful girl i'd ever seen... now the loser in me started to fade away as i began making more conversation. meanwhile she too grew comfortable around me, she was relaxing with her legs on my berth, and i surprisingly wasn't nervous, i asked if her best friend had come to bid her goodbye as she was probably leaving mumbai for good... she gave me the red rose her friend gave to bid her adieu.. much to the attention of the passengers seated below, who kept staring at us... she paid for my breakfast and in return, i let her use my cell as hers wasn't working, and that's how i got her number, now don't judge me.. i'd just asked her name, i was going to need much more courage and time to ask her number...
as we closed in on jaipur, she went to her father's seat with whom she'd been the evening before... i felt like i had nothing to do, i waited for her, trying to crawl through the pages of my novel... and then she came back, for her luggage, and asked me for help, which i most willingly offered, i felt like i was being used, but what the hell.. i took her bags to her place but refused to carry the small ones and asked her do something on her own. she smiled...
last i saw her when we were about to get down the train. her face was covered with her dupatta and i could only see her eyes.. i innocently asked 'what's that for? it's not that cold now'... she replied 'those north indian boys stare at me and give dirty looks, they're not like you'...
i could only smile, for the series of chemical reactions had already taken over....
nice1... keep blogging...:P
ReplyDeletereally very nice written and well expressed
ReplyDeletegood
keep on goin