Night of 25TH

CHAP 48: Beauty in Banaras

Past :

Shubman

Navigating the tranquil stillness of the night, I made my way to Shaheed Bhagat Singh International Airport. The seasoned old army officer at the passport checkpoint glanced at my identification, and a glimmer of recognition illuminated his eyes as he read the name inscribed on it.

"Aap bada changa khele match mein," he exclaimed with enthusiasm, acknowledging me through the mask that concealed my features. "Dhanvaad, uncle ji," I responded with gratitude.

"Rab tuhanu barkat deve, bachha. Ummed hai ki tuhanu saari duniya da pyaar mile," he expressed, his hand gently patting my head. My heart warmed at his benevolent words, and I nodded in acknowledgement, feeling a sense of comfort and encouragement.

Entering the airport, I made a conscious effort to shield my face from prying eyes by pulling my cap down. Glancing at the watch strapped to my hand, I noted the time – a quiet 3 in the night. With Flight at 6 on the horizon, I knew that a brief two-hour nap would do wonders. I adjusted my cap once more and set the alarm on my phone after completing the check-in process.

Navigating through the dimly lit terminal, I sought out a suitable spot to catch some rest. The late hour worked to my advantage as the airport was relatively quiet, with only a few late-night travellers scattered around. I found a comfortable corner after checking in, away from the hustle and bustle, and settled in for a brief sleep.

Sinking into a cushioned seat, I closed my eyes, the cap providing a sense of privacy amidst the airport's subdued ambience. The soft hum of distant conversations and the occasional echo of footsteps created a soothing background as I drifted into a short nap, reassured by the alarm I had set on my phone.

Closing my eyes for what seemed like a mere moment, two hours slipped through my grasp, ushering in the imminent arrival of my flight. A surge of excitement and anticipation coursed through me as I prepared to embark on this journey. However, sleep remained elusive throughout the entire flight. Instead, a perpetual smile adorned my face, and silent giggles escaped me, reminiscent of a love-struck teenager.

The universe seemed to conspire in my favour when I discovered that no one had taken the seat beside me. My unrestrained mirth might have been mistaken for madness had a curious companion been present. The hours soared by, marked by my quiet revelry in the solitude of my thoughts.

The layover in Delhi tested the bounds of my patience. The urgency to reach Banaras, my final destination, surged within me. Every ticking second felt like an eternity, and the promise of the sacred city fueled my impatience. Finally, the moment arrived, and I was the first to burst out of the plane upon landing. The rush of excitement propelled me forward.

To my joy, luck favoured me once more. As the carousel whirred to life, my luggage materialized before me, the first to gracefully glide down the conveyor belt. At that moment, the entire journey felt like a tale woven with anticipation, from the restless flight to the triumphant retrieval of my belongings.

Banaras welcomed me with open arms as I stepped out of the airport, the air heavy with a blend of spirituality and earthly scents. The city seemed to breathe, alive with vibrant colours, the distant echoes of temple bells, and the hum of life that only Banaras could offer.

Peeking my face through the taxi window, I handed my phone to the driver. He pulled his glasses down, perching them on the brim of his nose, and squinted a few times to read the address. After a moment of contemplation, he handed me back my phone and put the car into gear, responding in a typical Bihari accent, "Baitha."

With a nod, I settled into the backseat, feeling the hum of the engine beneath me as the taxi seamlessly merged into the flow of Banaras' chaotic streets.

"Sahib, pehli baar aaye ho sheher mein?" the driver initiated the conversation, looking at me through the rear-view mirror with a warm smile.

"Ji haan," I replied, returning the smile, my gaze captivated by the beauty of Banaras.

The rhythmic hum of the engine was accompanied by the occasional sounds of temple bells and distant prayers, creating a tranquil symphony as we navigated through the ancient city's narrow lanes.

"Kaisa laga hamra seher?" he inquired, lowering his head and peering over his glasses perched low on his nose.

"Bohot changa ji," I responded in my pronounced Punjabi accent.

The driver chuckled at my response, appreciating the mix of cultures reflected in our conversation.

"Pind di awaaz, lagda hai?" he asked, his smile revealing a warmth that transcended the boundaries of language.

"Hanji, bilkul. Banaras vich aake lagda hai jiven apne hi sheher vich aa gaye ho," I replied, feeling a sense of comfort in the familiarity of our colloquial exchange.

The driver nodded in agreement, "Bilkul sahi keh rahe ho. Yeh sheher sabko apna samajh leta hai."

"Waise, karte kya hain aap?" he asked, skillfully navigating through the increasingly narrow lanes, and I couldn't help but be impressed by how effortlessly he managed the twists and turns while engaging in conversation.

"Cricket khelta hu jii," I replied, not hesitating to reveal my identity, feeling a connection with him from the moment our conversation began.

"Waah jii, meri beti ko dekhna bohat pasand hai, khaas karke jab voh Shubman Gill aate hain. Keh rahi thi, 'Match dekhne le chalo, papa,' but kabhi time hi nahi mila," his face turned into a frown, a mix of regret and longing evident in his expression.

"Waise apne apna naam nhi batya" he asked as he parked the taxi in front of the hotel.

Pulling out a few notes, I handed them to him as he looked back. In response, I removed my mask and cap, leaving him stunned.

"Aap..." he stumbled, clearly taken aback.

"Shhh, yeh aapka aur mera secret hai. Aur lo, aapki beti ke liye signed cap," I said, offering him an extra cap that I had carried with me.

"Sahib, ek photo please, bachi khush hojayegi," he pleaded.

"Haan, zaroor, bas kahi post mat karna, itna hi request hai," I requested.

He nodded enthusiastically as he tried clicking a selfie, appearing nervous. To calm him down, I rested my hands on his shoulders. He smiled, successfully clicking the button, thanking me as I gracefully got down, wearing my mask and cap once again.

Entering the tall white building, not particularly exquisite but radiating a good aura, I informed the receptionist that I was headed to Room 303. She glanced at the screen, searching, as I took in the interior – simple compared to the luxurious stays on cricket tours, yet its simplicity exuded a comforting warmth.

"Your name, sir?" the receptionist inquired.

"Gill," I replied, and she looked down to confirm. "You may go," she said, granting me access.

The old, recently repaired elevator made peculiar noises as it ascended, with a butler accompanying me, carrying my luggage. He placed it in front of my door, and as a token of appreciation, I tipped him a few bucks, saying, "Thank you, paaji."

I knocked on the door, simultaneously texting Shahneel that I had reached my destination. As I pocketed the phone and looked up, I was momentarily swept off my feet by the breathtaking beauty standing before me. Dressed in a pink Banarasi saree, long earrings gracefully hanging from her ears, kohl adorning her eyes, and her lenses complementing the charm of her kohl-lined gaze.

"Kudiye," I whispered the only word that escaped my lips as I stood there, momentarily speechless in the presence of this enchanting beauty.