CROSSROADS

1

Another Monday dawned.
Streets teemed with men and women racing ahead of time, kids shuttling between tuitions and school and bone-worn seniors soaking up the post-winter sun.

At a suburban railway station, Devang Choudhary, early 30s, grunted, groaned and squeezed through the door of a crowded local train along with ten others.

He was the kind of white-collar executive you'd bump into at a busy station every day – neat formals, unbuttoned collar and a laptop strapped over the shoulder.

"Dude watch it!" he snapped when his laptop was dangerously crushed amidst sweaty bodies.

He plopped in through the train's door and grabbed the first thing he could to break his fall – hand straps.

The train inched forward with a painful bellow of its siren.

There was barely half a foot of standing space. Every now and then, an elbow or two nudged into his sides. Or even a stray foot over his own. Yet, he kept his cool and caught his breath. Hectic? Yes. But exciting and worth looking forward to. 

For Devang Choudhary, fondly known as Dev in his circle of friends, family, and colleagues, this marked the beginning of a new journey in his life. It was his first day on his dream job.

A month back, after a grueling series of tough interviews, he bagged a challenging senior role at a Fortune 500 company in the city.

Towering at a good 6 feet, Dev struggled to stand at ease in the congested train. A particularly strong-smelling passenger before him added to his woes. Restricted breaths. Turning away. Looking up. Looking down. He tried it all but alas! Nothing gave him relief. Starving for air, he gently shouldered past to the door earning many dirty looks on the way.

He reached the door only to find it taken by a dark, balding man in his 40's. Either way, he pushed through and hungrily gasped in a deep whiff of pure, fresh oxygen... blended with thick fumes from the train and the disgusting reek of toilets at the station. He instantly regretted it and involuntarily coughed out the filth. 

The balding man noticed. "It'll be gone few minutes from here," he stated. 

"Huh?" Dev looked up, breathless and puzzled. 

"The stench from the toilets," he clarified. 

"Oh, okay," Dev mumbled sheepishly and looked away, a little embarrassed.

"My initial days were kind of similar. Eventually, I learned to hold my breath." The balding man smiled and threw another glance at Dev. "I haven't seen you around by the way. New to this part of town?" 

"Yes," Dev replied.

"New posting?"

"Yeah."

"Where?"

"Hindustan Petroleum."

"Oh really? Wonderful place to work."

Dev smiled.

"I work at Larson by the way," the balding man stated proudly.

"I see! I have a friend who works there."

"Really? Which department?"

"Engineering. Gaurav Saran."

"I know him! He's your friend!"

"Batch mates from college," Dev answered.

Gradually, the train picked up speed and chugged through a decent suburb lined with identical double-storeyed brick houses on either side. Two rail tracks ran parallelly in between.

Dev began to enjoy the ride. It was thrilling to stand at the door, to have the wind slap through your hair and clothes while feasting on the sights outside.

Soon, the train slowed down and came to a stop. 

Dev looked around. They were parked at some desolate place with nothing but tall grass around them. He glanced at his watch. Three minutes passed. "Are we at a station or something?" he asked the balding man. 

"Not really," he answered. "There's a crossing here. The express train is due any minute." He paused to listen. "Talk about the devil. Here it comes."

A loud BLARE closed in fast and SLAPPED past. 

WHEEEEEEE-WHIZZZZZZ-CHUG-CHUG... CLICKITY-CLACK.... CHUG-CHUG... CLICKITY-CLACK....

A never-ending blur of blue whizzed past.

"This happens every day?" asked Dev.

"Every day except the weekends," the balding man responded.

After the last bit of the express train chugged out of view, their train began to roll when his eyes fell on the house across the empty track – a decent, single-story with a dainty vegetable garden. It had its back to the passing trains. What caught his attention was far from all of these.

In the backyard was a beautiful young lady in Indian attire, an old chiffon saree to be precise. It perfectly wrapped her slender frame. She was probably in her early 20's something and had big, sparkling, expressive eyes and soft, flowing hair as lush as silk. She crouched and sprinkled a generous handful of grains for her pets – a couple of chickens and a rooster. They picked furiously with one of them even stopping to give her a playful peck. She giggled and Dev's heart skipped a beat.

When she smiled, she did so with all her being. But underneath all that childlike innocence, joy and curiosity, was an ever-consuming profound sadness, one that seemed as though she's drowning it all in the only world around her – the chickens.

I wonder what it is, he thought and scanned the surroundings. Does she live alone?

He craned his neck to get a better look, but the house looked empty. The only part which gave an illusion of life was the kitchen at the back. But that could probably be so because of her presence in there.

Absentminded, he set his empty gaze on her beautiful smile and expressive eyes.

She's so cute, he thought with a soft grin. Her smile is so innocent... her eyes are so bright, her hair so silky... her... hang on, Dev. This is so not you. Since when did you engage in bird watching?

Dev had always been the studious type who dared to dream and take calculated steps in reaching his goal.

They started to move out, but Dev couldn't take his eyes off her. Despite all the contradictory voices in his head, something about her kept pulling him back like a magnet.

Soon, they were zipping over a single track and closing in on the next station. Minutes later, Dev alighted at his stop.

***