Last Stop: Love

2. Adventure at the tracks

“I'm late. I'm so frigging late.”

The frustrated voice announced loudly while an even more frustrated guy pushed his way through the crowd of the station.

No sorry’s. No excuse me’s. He's gotta be on that train in twenty seconds. He should have been on it twenty minutes ago, to be fair. He didn't deliberately start late either. If only he had remembered to oil the bike, The brake wire would not snapped right before he merged into traffic. He wouldn't have fallen face first onto asphalt and a minivan would not have nearly squished him.

In other words, Irfan almost died that day.

He had little to no time to process that, because he was in a hurry. He jumped on the first auto that neared him. The auto driver assumed the destination to be a hospital, but was made to drop him off at the railway station. Poor confused guy even forgot to ask for extra fare.

Now Irfan was frantically running along the platform, gaining momentum to jump onto the train without missing. Normally a sensible guy, he sneered at people doing last minute stunts like these. So the judgemental glares he now got seemed warranted. After all, he believed in karma.

With one final ‘oomph’, he latched on to the train’s door handle. His travel bag swayed dangerously on his shoulder. His mobile was about to fall out from his denim pocket. Someone shouted Hindi swear words at him. That was probably the station master. The adrenaline in him chose to ignore it. Another pull, and he was inside. The phone fell on the train floor. Thanking his fates, he bent to pick it up but ended up sliding on the floor in exhaustion. He laid there for a moment.

Calming his erratic heart by rubbing a hand on his chest, he stood up and started walking through the aisle. He asked a seated person which compartment it was, and learned that he had to walk across four more of those to reach his seat. He didn't flinch. He had all the time in the world now, didn't he?

Twelve minutes later, he arrived at his seat. He saw a young woman sitting from across his seat. He walked up with a smile, and was surprised to see the girl's face fall. She bent her outstretched legs and made way for him. He stashed his bag under the seat and sat down with a thud. She wasn't impressed. She seemed to glare at his shoes, and when he looked at them himself, he realised they were muddy and scratched.

“Um.. that's because I fell from my bike, and ran all the way along the platform to catch the train. The bruises on my face are also because of that.”

Who knew a story of you falling from your bike is a great conversation starter! The girl seemed concerned. After a moment of contemplation, she asked him, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah yeah, I'm fine. These are nothing. You should have seen me during my school days! There wasn't a single day I wasn't covered in scabs and bruises. The bloodshed those days..” He rambled on. The unimpressed expression returned on her countenance.

“So, Meetha, you are a scientist, huh?” He asked out of nowhere. Her shock was evident in her eyes. Before she could ask how he knew, he pointed to her stomach. Confused, she looked down and realised the lanyard with her ID card was still around her neck. She covered the card with her hand and gave him a stare of disapproval. He simply smiled.

“I'm sorry. It was readable. But you, really, are not. Did I do anything to offend you, other than sitting in my reserved seat?”

She seemed appalled, her beautiful eyebrows scrunched slightly in disbelief. “N-No.. I'm sorry. It's not you, it's me. I have some things on my mind.”

“So I caught you in a bad time? I saw you smiling before I came near you..”

She gave a wry laugh. “Yeah, it is a bad time. And it's personal. So I appreciate your non-invasive distance in the matter.”

Irfan fell silent. He didn't like to force conversations. If the girl isn't interested, he wouldn't make an ass of himself by annoying her. He took out his mobile and checked his inbox for messages. She returned to her staring out of the window.

It wasn't until the train reached the next station that Irfan looked up from his phone. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, but he couldn't help it that his eyes kept wandering off to her face if he looked up at all. She looked tired. Yet her eyes were filled with childlike wonder as they observed every tree and cloud and building they came across. Her cheeks were slightly flushed by the chilly autumn air that caressed her unabashedly. She looked like a postmodern painting, with one leg folded on the seat and another dangling in the air, and head slightly tilted and leaned against the backrest.

When the train came to a halt, he looked at her as she observed the people on the platform, following them with her saccadic gaze. A tea vendor stopped by their window, hanging his tea barrel onto it and chanting his business slogan in a breathless tone.

“Chai? Sir chai? Madam chai? Chai? Sir Chai?”

“One,” he said and signalled, proceeding to take his wallet. When he got the steaming hot drink in his hand, he noticed Meetha eyeing it for a second. He hesitated, then offered the cup to her. “Chai?”

She refused immediately. “No, thank you.”

“Come on, the weather is good. Your bad mood may get better with chai.”

He signalled for another cup of tea, and promptly paid for it. The train had started moving when the second cup arrived in his hand. Meetha reluctantly took a cup from his hand. “Thanks. I'll pay for the tea.”

He nodded and slurped his tea, his eyes closing in a satisfactory bliss. Meetha sipped it while watching him do inexplicable expressions on his face.

“Chai lover?” she asked with a chuckle.

He nodded and slurped, not stopping to answer. Meetha managed to hide her smile behind the tea cup.

***