Last Stop: Love

7. Clockwork chemistry

Irfan instinctively shielded her face and squeezed his own eyes shut.

Few seconds passed, and the train's thudding din faded into an eerie silence. Meetha looked around with wild eyes as Irfan wiped his face and dusted off his clothes. Her hand relaxed, and slowly released its grip, letting go of his hand.

“That.. was something else. The speed, the sound, the sensations.. Everything was amazing! I'd love to do this again.”

“Okay, that was enough adventure for today. Let's get inside.”

She followed without protest. As they climbed up the stairs, they were met with some disapproving glances from fellow passengers. Meetha flashed a sheepish grin and hastily settled into her seat. Irfan awkwardly tried to offer explanations, but ultimately trailed off with a wistful sigh. When they looked at each other, they had to try so hard to stifle their laughter.

Meetha felt lighter than ever. She was living her life carefree, doing things she would have never even dreamed of. She was the quintessential people pleaser all her life. She had been the well-behaved, mild-mannered child growing up, and the soft-spoken demure girl in college. In her efforts to blend in and accommodate those around her, she gradually lost sight of her own identity, piece by piece, surrendering her individuality to the expectations of others.

Ajith was the greatest beneficiary of Meetha's accommodating nature, never having to exert himself to get his way. A simple disapproving frown on his face was all it took for Meetha to acquiesce, foregoing her own desires to meet his expectations. She believed it was love, to change oneself for another. Why Ajith didn't do the same, she never bothered to think.

Irfan watched Meetha, her face a map of deep reflection. “Penny for your thoughts?” He inquired cheerily.

She shook her head. “It's nothing. I haven't had this much fun in forever.”

The train started moving, and Meetha longingly gazed out of the window at the stone plank where the memories of her short and sweet adventure remained. Irfan smiled fondly, following her gaze. He had come to like the fact that she was one unpredictable firecracker of a woman. He had an inkling that she hadn't always been that way. In his mind, he pictured her as a studious, introverted academic who would quietly go about her work, not one to engage with strangers. Her current erratic and oddly charming demeanor seemed fairly recent. She appeared liberated. Like a butterfly from its cocoon eager to spread its wings and soar into the sky.

When the next station arrived, people got busy purchasing dinner from the railway catering vendors. The ubiquitous rectangular aluminium foil boxes with paper lids were seen flashing everywhere. With code letters on the lids telling their contents, the boxes wafted with flavorful aromas promising a fulfilling supper.

“Railway Food is always nostalgic for me. Our family used to go on long trips every year. So we would eat at least two meals from the railway catering. Nowadays the food is so much better. Back in those days it was almost inedible, but we never minded. My siblings and I loved to eat with a view. The aluminium trays made us feel like grown ups. I would spill most of the food on my dress, and mom would roll her eyes.”

Irfan recounted with a sigh. Meetha shrugged.

“My parents always packed food from home. It was safe and economical. And mom would feed us both herself until we were twelve. Heck, she still feeds Mithun by hand, and that buffalo is twenty three now.”

Irfan laughed heartily. She smirked at him. When a food vendor came near their window, Irfan called for two sets of Chapatis. “Hope you don't mind. I don't eat non-vegetarian food from outside, because I don't know if it's halal or not.”

Meetha smiled. “I am a vegetarian. So no problem.”

Irfan gave a surprised nod. When he paid for the chapatis, Meetha bought a cupcake set for dessert from one of the platform stalls. She suggested they fold their seats into a berth to sit and eat comfortably. Irfan quickly complied and began setting it up as Meetha went to wash her hands. They seemed to work in synchronisation, like clockwork. The chemistry baffled Meetha as he was a mere stranger, but she liked it nonetheless.

The dinner was peaceful with a spectacular view of the night. Irfan recounted many of his childhood stories as she listened eagerly. She imagined him as a bubbly boy bursting with mischief, running about and causing mayhem everywhere, his antics a whirlwind of boisterous playfulness. She threw her head back and laughed at the dramatic retelling of his school days.

“My teachers definitely deserved awards for tolerating me. My father would eagerly await for the school to reopen after holidays. He bought me a piano just to make me sit in one place and have a little peace and quiet. But the idea hugely backfired, because his head almost split into two during my learning phase.”

“You sound like a handful, Irfan. Your childhood seems very interesting.”

“Haha, thanks. Okay, seriously, enough about me. What are your pastimes? How do you rejuvenate after a long day of peering through microscopes?”

“I cook. Cooking is like meditation to me. It is an art to follow the recipe meticulously, and a pleasure to be rewarded with a sumptuous dish in exchange. Though I started learning it for a different reason, I liked the process. l like cookbooks with elaborate instructions and accurate measurements. Not the ‘pinch, smidge or dash of’ business. There's a blog called ‘Bong Eats’, which tells you the measurements accurate to milligrams. I love it.”

“Interesting. What's your favourite food?”

“Hmm, that's a tough question. I like my mom's food. Anything she makes tastes good.”

“Anything specific?”

“Her Dal palak. It tastes amazing with rice and ghee. Add some tomato pickle to it… Aah.. it becomes divine! Oh, how I miss her food..”

“Why? What happened to her?”

“Nothing, she went to stay with my brother Mithun. My parents are now in San Jose.”

Meetha looked forlorn for a moment. Irfan noted her fragile solitude, how she was all alone in such a vulnerable moment. Had her loved ones been there for her, she wouldn't have felt driven to vanish into thin air, boarding a train to nowhere. The thought hurt his heart.

She was going to live, he decided stubbornly.

***