The Unventured Passions

The Train Journey

If the railway tracks were the arteries of  Calcutta, the stations were its lungs, the wide platform breathing the waiting eyes in and out. The first train ride from Dehradun to Howrah had felt like a sweet meditation to Mira, the gentle rocking so soothing like a mother's arm. But this time it felt different. The bursting evening crowd pouring inside the huge Howrah station was making it almost difficult for her to walk. Batakrishna was walking infront, his hands held the first class cabin tickets and his eyes wondered on the number plates on the halted giant smoke-snake.
Mahamaya was walking behind her, her eyes engrossed on a piece of paper, yet how smoothly she managed to trod through the jostling ocean.
Mira was the one struggling. With the small white potli clutched to her bosom and the ever receding saree from her head, she was struggling to move forward. One step, and someone would push her back with a nudge of a shoulder, and one step back, an unknown elbow would poke her to move ahead. Mira was breaking into nervous sweat.

"Cho... Choto Zamindar Babu..."
She called out, and as Batuk turned around, he saw her pale frightened face, her lips quivering in fear, and beads of pearl on the tip of her nose.

"What?" Batuk asked, and Mira tried to speak, but her abrupt stationed steps disagreed with the travellers walking behind her.

"Move... You bloody widow!" A man with a rich wooden trunk almost pushed her aside, and Mira fell down on the hard ground, scraping her elbow a little.

"Oye!!" Batakrishna had almost pounced on the man like a wounded lion, his left hand grabbing the man's collar and his right fisted infront of his face.
"How dare you..." He growled.

Mahamaya, however, had come to rescue immediately.
She had first picked Mira up, making her stand upright, and then she meddled to rescue the man from Batuk's wrath.

"Please apologize to the lady here and be gone." Mahamaya suggested calmly, and the man although unhappy at the idea of bowing down to the hapless crying widow, dared not conduct himself otherwise.
Batuk's reddened eyes were glaring at him, and gulping nervously at them the man folded his hands and apologized to Mira.

The man left, and it was time for Mira to bare the wrath.
"Why can you not walk properly Mira? Be firm... Eyes on the path... How dare anyone just push you around? Do you think they can push Maha here? Then why you?" He blurted out the words as Mira's eyes reflected renewed moisture.

"Ohoo... I'm not scolding you... It's just that I don't like you being pushed around, taken for granted... Why Mira? If you won't fight for your place, your due respect then who would?"

'You', Mira wanted to say, but instead she looked away, clutching the potli tighter.

"Here, Batakrishna Babu... 1C, our cabin." Mahamaya had walked ahead, and standing on a comparatively deserted platform infront of the first class compartment she raised her finger to point out towards a particular bogie.

"Ah, it's indeed!" Batuk chuckled, as he turned towards Mira only to find her eyes casted down and her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her white saree.

Batuk sighed at the sight.
"Here." He pulled his handkerchief out from his pocket and rolled it in his palm as he extended the loose end towards Mira.
"Hold this..."

Mira looked up once at him, and looked away, only to steal another shy glance back. She hesitated for a moment before grabbing the handkerchief and Batuk smiled gently at her.

"I'm not touching you Mira, as promised, but don't do anything that'd compel me to break it." He gestured at the tiny droplets of  blood oozing from the scrape on her elbow, and Mira covered it immediately with her saree.

"I'll get you a tape. Let's first find our cabin inside, alright?" He exhaled.

The train bogie was shiny olive green in colour, with golden handles and frames, with an abundance of wooden framework everywhere.