Bombay Flu

02

During those days the paved Railway station of Howrah used to be densely crowded. Amongst the crowd, mostly were migrants who had left their ancestral villages and were taking shelter in metropolitan cities for either livelihood or treatment. Irrespective of their age, gender, all of them had a few common features like worn out dirty clothes, anorexic bodies, crumbled faces, chapped lips. They'd been under-fed for several weeks. Only the almighty knew if their taste receptor cells were still functioning. Swollen eyes, broken vessels, sleepless nights, hunger stricken stomach, wrenched hearts were daily companions to them.

Civilization has always had a cruel way in distinguishing humans socially and economically. Those strata weren't even blurred amid the pandemic.

The leftest corner of the platform was occupied for the elites' restroom. There weren't any such signs of suffocations. Dressed in fancy suits, suede shoes they were engrossed in political talks, If the great leader Gandhiji had fallen prey to 'Bombay influenza' or How the fever first broke out in Bombay being one of the possible routes for the ships carrying troops from the 1st World War in Europe.

Among those elites, one hefty young man in garbendine topcoat, grey trousers and with a leather briefcase in his hand, was pacing near the entrance of the restroom. A feodore hat kept his face almost hidden. Presumably the forbidden meeting with his inamorata was destined.

He was taking puffs from the cigar every now and then as he kept pacing rather waiting. When he was about to throw the cigar out impatiently a slender female's equanimity possessed his restlessness. He could hardly believe his vision. There wasn't any sign of luxury, ornamentation in her attire similar to that previous night. A handloom saree, red shawl embraced her body while her hair was put neatly in a bun. She looked exquisitely ordinary.

His exclusivity felt clueless to her simplicity.

Thankfully! The guard blew the whistle signaling the arrival of the train to bombay. As the railway engine entered the platform, the already buzzing crowd got condensed eliminating all the differences of class, creed in a haste of boarding the train.

After stepping inside the compartment with much difficulty Mr. Lahit looked for his companion who was still standing near the pedestrian gazing how mercilessly the appointed guards were beating those distressed to withhold them from nearing the elite section.

"Miss, the world has gotten even uglier now. Get used to it."

Lowering her gaze she just nodded lest he met with her watery eyes. Another loud whistle signaled the departure of the train. She was about to enter the compartment when her shawl got stuck. The sudden repulsion made her almost fall off the pedestrian but gripping her hand Mr. Lahit pulled the shawl with utmost chivalry. "Let's go. The long journey awaits us."

The train started off its journey to Bombay fading the whir away into the gloomy autumn evening.

It could have been a romantic starry night. Those pesky clouds just didn't have to wander across the sky, putting veil over the twinkling stars, like some possessive hero trying to secrete his beloved away from all the anguishes. Then Mr. Lahit would have pretended to be a uranophile in this late night's journey. The audacious moon still peeped through the cloudy veil, beaming at him. He couldn't help but find some uncanny resemblance between the moon and the lady sleeping alongside him. It wasn't just the celestial beauty but the enigma, the eagerness that both of them shared.

The train suddenly stopped jolting him up from his fantasies. Looking outside the window he assumed it to be some locomotive station. He decided to get down from the coach. Wandering a bit would be better than trying to solve this particular mystery.

A man in worn out camouflage under the sulfur light came into his view. The man certainly was a native soldier returning from the war. While the investigator was pondering if he should approach the soldier, a familiar voice spoke up, "The world has gotten uglier but we can still try to make it a bit less ugly."

Walking past him she approached the soldier. "Soldier, don't cry. The battle is over, you've conquered it."

"I've lost the battle of life..." He lamented pointing towards his amputated leg.

"You haven't lost it yet, life hasn't given up on you. Go home. Rest a little. Fight back harder." She comforted him.

"I don't wanna go home. I can't be a burden to my beloved wife." He sobbed.

"No! Don't think like that. She's your better half. She's left behind her parents, for you. She's kept loving you even when you weren't near her. She's kept waiting for you for several months, several years, if not for an eternity all by herself. How can you underestimate her love or abandon her?" The urge that was latched in her trembling voice, even assured the oblivious investigator that she wasn't speaking only on behalf of some soldier's wife.

"Would she accept me?"

"She'd. You'd be her choice over everything else. She may cry, she may yell but you've to be with her, comfort her while she fixes both of you little by little." She smiled. "Go back to her. Your beloved may have been sitting at the doorstep."

"Here, let me help you." The investigator, a mute spectator until now extended his hand to the soldier.

He returned only to meet with her gaze. A gust of chilled breeze blew by them. Some loose locks tried veiling her face in an unsuccessful attempt to make her gaze indifferent.

"It's getting cold." He said nervously.

"Mr Lahit, you don't exactly need to be a nationalist, a satyagrahi or an oppositionist to colonists to help the deprived. sometimes, you can be a human only."

'Humanity', the lesson he had never intended to learn. Not 'Humanity' but 'Money' had filled his stomach, carried his expenses. Some tangle from his past might have just got an extra knot.

"Is it humane to leave your family, worried in crisis?" He asked as she was to turn on her heels.

"Sometimes the family becomes a hindrance which love never recognizes."

"No matter how loud your love is, it'll fall silent the moment your beloved turns deaf ears."

"Why chase wealth, status? Doesn't it turn into ashes too in the blink of an eye?" She met with his raging gaze.

"It's an addiction"

"Then you've no idea how charismatic an addiction 'Love' is." An exotic smile stained her lips.

"Thankfully! I don't." He whispered almost into her ear before walking away.

"Mr. Lahit..."

He stopped.

"Judge me a hundred times, not the 'Love'. It's undefined, unrefined, unconditional."

Her radiant eyes captivated him, he couldn't resist drowning inside their depths.

Word Count: 1127