Last Stop: Love

3. Tea for the soul

When the tea ritual was finally over, Meetha took money from her purse, but he declined nonchalantly.

“It's just a cup of tea. Let it be.”

“I insist, please.”

“Then I insist back, double please.”

Meetha looked determined. “I'll buy you something at the next station.”

Irfan assented with a laugh.

“What's your name?” She inquired suddenly. “You know my name. It's only fair that I know yours.”

A glint flashed in his eyes as he smiled.
“Irfan Qureshi, a pleasure to meet you Meetha.”

She shook his extended hand. “You too.”

He could see the tea did its work. She seemed better. She smiled too. While leaning back, she unclasped her hair-clip to rest her head. Her hair looked so ethereal, with ebony locks framing her face and cascading down her back. The wavy strands of hair looked so lustrous and rich, serenely dancing along the tunes of the wind. She brushed off a stray curl that fell on her face. Irfan looked at her, mesmerised.

He honestly couldn't take his eyes off her. It's bad manners to stare, his conscience chided him. But in the light of recent events, including and not limited to his near-death experience, the world seemed extra-lovely and so livable. The colours seemed brighter, the people prettier, his co-passenger the prettiest. And also, she didn't seem to mind.

She was lost in thoughts, her eyes staring aimlessly at the settling dusk outside. It's been so long since she's gone out by herself like this. She had always been too busy with research, and her spare time went in learning new recipes that Ajith liked, and basic homekeeping skills she thought she needed. She would visit the Kali temple near her house once a week, just to spend time near the temple's pond. Never in her life had she travelled alone by train, especially to a city so far and so new. Hyderabad, a city where she was a nobody. Not a soul knew her there. She could easily lose her identity and be forgotten.

The idea of being lost brought tears to her eyes uncontrollably. She lightly sniffled and tried to wipe her eyes. The pain inside resurfaced and made her weep more. Irfan quickly offered her a white handkerchief. He bent to pick his water bottle out of his bag. Meetha didn't resist the act of kindness and quickly covered her face with the cloth. She wept silently for minutes. Irfan patiently waited with the water bottle. Her eyes were tinted red, along with the tip of her nose and her earlobes. She wiped her face again with the kerchief. There were still a few whimpers peppering the silence, while she held her hand for the water bottle. She scanned his face for hints of judgement or pity, and found none. With few sips of water, the whimpers abated to short breaths and finally subsided.

Irfan's eyes were fixed on her intently. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and returned the bottle with a whispered ‘thanks’. He watched her adjust her hair again and mutter something to herself, shaking her head softly.

“This isn't just a bad time, right?” He asked solemnly. “Something big has happened, hasn't it?”

“Yes, but it's–”

“Personal. You said that. But I believe nobody has to suffer alone in this world. We have fellow humans for a reason. We are a social species, Meetha. We survive better in packs. Tell me what's bothering you, and I promise you'll feel lighter.”

Meetha looked at him and hesitated. She didn't want to tell a complete stranger about her life. He understood her thoughts.

“Look.. I don't know you, so I won't judge you. And who knows, we may never see each other again. You don't have to worry about me telling anyone.”

“I want to die, because my boyfriend of three years is cheating on me.”

Her words hit him like a train. He simply blinked.

“I know what you are thinking. ‘This girl is a nutjob who wants to die for such a stupid thing.’ But I feel like my life will be meaningless after this. I don't want to continue this sorrow.”

“First of all, I didn't think that at all. The intensity of the problem is not for me to assess. I cannot say if your problem is stupid or serious. If it affected you this much, then it is a big issue. Subjectively, being cheated on is terrible. It hurts like hell. It's bad. So all the emotions you're feeling now, they're legit.”

Meetha looked surprised. “By any chance, are you a therapist or something?”

He laughed lightly. “Oh God no! I am not a shrink. Not that smart. I am a musician.”

“A singer?”

“Not essentially. I play piano. I sing sometimes. I have a YouTube channel.”

She nodded in appreciation.

“So now, do you really want to die, Meetha?”

“I don't see any other way to end this pain.”

“Can I say something as someone who actually almost died today? Death is scary. At your final moments, you will desperately want to live. You could feel yourself clawing out of the clutches of death, if it makes sense. All worldly problems would seem so insignificant at that time. This isn't worth dying, Meetha.”

“I don't think so. Up until this point, I lived my life with a plan. Now that it's gone, I don't know what to do.”

“Then live without a plan. See where life takes you.”

“I'm sorry, I can't do that. You see, I hate uncertainty.”

“Why would you hate the very essence of adventure?”

“Because I'm not adventurous.”

“You don't know that. When was the last time you went on an adventure?”

“Today. This train ride. This actually will be the last time too.”

Irfan chose to ignore that disturbing assertion she added. “Do you hate it? This train ride? Your adventure?”

Meetha pondered for a second. She hated the circumstances, but she didn't hate the journey. The train travel was actually nice, and it even momentarily made her forget her plight. The scenery outside the window had been soothing. And the train station tea had been divine. Sugary sweet and divine.

But she wanted to die.

***