Last Stop: Love

4. Deal the deal

She answered his question with a ‘no’.

“See? You are on an adventure and you don't hate it. Isn't that something to think about?”

“There is nothing to think about. I want to get away. From myself. From this tightness in my chest. From the helpless feeling that suffocates me. From all the people I know.”

She teared up once again. He was quick with the water bottle. This time he even consoled her.

“It's alright. It's gonna be alright. Just breathe.”

His scrutinizing gaze was fixed on her visage. The wheels of his brain seemed to whir.

“Meetha, you owe me for the tea.” He brought up suddenly.

Meetha looked irritated. “You refused the money,” she countered. “That's why I said I'd buy you something at the next station.”

“But I don't want that. Unless you can give me back that tea you consumed, I need something else.”

Meetha scrunched her forehead in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I need your time. The train reaches Hyderabad at 11.50 pm, in exactly 5 hours and 23 minutes. I need your time until then.”

That didn't clear up her confusion. She signalled him to go on.

“I want you to spend five and a half hours with me. Pretend like nothing bad happened in your life. Act like we're well acquainted. Talk to me like you normally do with any friend. I want your time, Meetha. Nothing else will do.”

Meetha decided to mull over his words to find a reason why he asked that. Irfan was happy that she didn't immediately snub him. Minutes passed and the next station arrived. Vendors with different culinary comestibles started to roam up and down the platform, calling out for potential hungry buyers. Irfan's heart raced as Meetha looked out the window at the hawkers without giving him an answer.

Meetha simply called a vendor selling water bottles to buy one. Irfan was mildly confused.

She turned to him and smiled. “I have used up all the water from your bottle. We might need more if we're gonna talk for five hours.”

He let out a sigh of relief as she chuckled. It made him laugh too. The train started snailing away from the station and Irfan happily waved to the platform.

“So, what do you get from this?” She asked him. “Why are you doing this?”

“You got nothing to lose. Why not try it?”

“Because, Mister, I don't trust you.”

“You don't mean that.”

Irfan's challenging gaze was met with Meetha's exasperated sigh. She looked like a kindergarten teacher trying to admonish a chubby little kid.

He drummed his fingers on his denim-clad knees, teasing her with his raised eyebrows.

“Twenty minutes have passed. We still haven't started our deal. Would you like to go first and tell me about yourself?”

She crossed her legs and leaned back.

“There isn't much to tell. I study Microbiology in the Institute of Science and Technology. I have submitted three papers on the importance of commensals in agriculture and animal husbandry. I like working with microorganisms. I have a compound microscope with an oil-immersion lens giving up to 300x magnification. His name is Daya.”

Irfan sat up. “Did you just say you named your microscope?”

She shrugged. “It's a silly thing. It helps me work carefully with it. It makes my work a bit more interesting.”

“Why that name? I'm sure there's a story.”

Meetha beamed with pride.

“It was after a discovery we made while working on a case of a cattle infection. The microscope helped me to get a clearer picture of the zoonotic parasite, and I was able to isolate it from the blood cells of the cow. It was like detective work. I felt like ACP Pradyuman. So I named him Daya.”

Irfan liked that look of pride on her. Though he couldn't completely grasp what she said, he understood that it was a fond memory of hers. He grinned at her, taking part in that fondness. “ACP Pradyuman? As in, the hero of CID drama?”

“Yes! Do you watch it? It was a huge part of my teenage years. My parents didn't allow us to watch sappy melodramas, since they had kiss scenes and such. But CID was a family favourite. The episodes were so interesting, and there were no adult content scenes.”

“I watched a few episodes. I like Inspector Daya. He's a children's favourite.”

Meetha looked at him with such sweetness that he almost melted.

“Irfan, you might be my new favourite person in the world.”

He covered his flushed cheeks in the pretence of a hasty cough, attempting to hide his flustered state. She watched him blink his eyes one too many times for her comfort.

“Um, is something wrong?”

“Not at all. Nope. Nothing. All's fine. You were saying?”

Meetha smiled again. “As I was saying, I have a pretty boring life. Most days, I like to stay in and read. I read a lot. I love crime thrillers and detective novels. I still read Famous Five and Nancy Drew.”

“Oh, I read fiction too. But mostly short stories. Do you know Ajit Chakraborty?”

Irfan couldn't understand why her face fell. She remained silent and shook her head as a no. The sweet, appreciative sparkle has faded from her eyes leaving them stoic and unreadable.

He grew tired, as every small victory was met with a frustrating return to square one. She seemed very unstable for a grown woman.

“I'm sorry, but do I know you from somewhere?” A passenger walking along the aisle stopped near him. “I feel like I've seen you recently. Are you a media personality?”

Meetha didn't look up at the enquirer. She kept her gaze fixed at the field outside their window which was lush golden with ripening maize.

Irfan quickly flashed a smile at them and replied, “I'm a YouTuber. I do music videos and song covers.” He looked eager to return to his conversation, but as soon as the passenger departed, a buzz of curiosity spread among the nearby passengers. "What's your channel?" someone asked, sparking a chorus of inquiries and whispers.

Irfan soon found himself answering a myriad of questions ranging from his music genre to his income. When the answerable questions had been answered and the people dispersed, Irfan impatiently turned to Meetha, only to find her gone.

***