Finally

Finally

Posted by Abhilasha Khaitan on Friday January 07, @08:44AM

Finally. Time to leave. Unexplored territory awaits. I should be excited. In fact, I am”.right?

Well, it's tempered a mite, by the expectations I carry with me. The "I know you'll do wonderfully"s and the "She is such a bright girl. So capable. Bound to excel at the institute"s. I did not need this to add to the impending sense of doom, already plaguing my existence. Nonetheless, I smile at all the well meaning relatives and friends gathered at my parents' home. And respectfully take leave.

Papa insisted on seeing me off at the station. The Gujarat Mail leaves promptly at 9:25 p.m from Bombay Central, a fact that would be top of the mind recall to me for a long time to come. It is the commonly accepted mode of travel between Mumbai and Ahmedabad. For those lucky and enterprising enough to have booked tickets a month in advance, the journey spelt comfort. For the likes of me, it was to signify the not so comfortable prospect of RAC or unreserved.

However, this time around, my father was in charge. So, S2, 32, lower berth was my destination. As I follow my father, I looked around to see if anyone who was anyone, was witnessing him mollycoddling me. Hey, I am about to enter the portals of THE institute of Management in Western India. I can take care of my luggage”..my life.

"Thanks, Papa". He looked at me with a proud smile. I'm their star. I make the difference in their simple, routine, middle class existence. They NEED me to achieve. They think I already have. Me and hundreds like me?

How do I explain that one? I touched his feet. "Bless you, beta. May you do us proud". Oh god!

Even as his back turned, I almost reached out to him in desperation. How was I to handle this? What if I ’.failed? Even the thought was enough to spin my head. Failure is a four letter word, especially, appertaining to me. And, the yardstick by which it is measured, is rather lofty, and I think, unfair.

For God's sake, wasn't it enough that I was going to be educated at a premier institute? What was this unholy desire and compulsion to egg me to 'top'? Is this primarily an Indian, or even a third world, phenomenon, this preoccupation with academic excellence?

Too much to think, wrong time of the day. Time to sleep, I thought, and sought solace in my favourite travel companion, Little Women. Instant empathy for Jo, irritation towards Amy, sympathy for Beth and understanding for Meg. My journey had begun.

Eyes drooping with sleep, I was just entering the land of Nod, when I heard some sniffles from the upper berth. Didn't sound too good, was it a cold, or was the person in pain, or worse”.not tears, God, that I cannot handle. That is one area (make that one of the areas) where the much vaunted feminine instinct just deserts me, and I feel totally inadequate. There, there, Tsk Tsk’and some such sounds are all that I can manage.

Ignoring it, I turned so I could block the sound out. Hell, that sounded like me when I'm trying not to cry, and thats not a pretty sound at all.

Come one, girl, you're 24, where's that maturity that you keep harping about when Mother insists she comes along to settle you down at the Institute, or when Father wants to fetch you from a party which may go on beyond 11 p.m?

Sigh. I drag myself up, and peer into the darkness. Fumbling, I find my spectacles, as usual, precariously positioned on the window ledge. One of these days, its going to slip out, and that would be the end of that. Will not. I've been that way for years. So whats the count? 2 a year, or more. Oh shush.

The heart of the matter is the person up above. Here goes. I stand and wonder what the heck I'm doing? What if its just a cold? What if its something far more serious, and you ignore it, and then when it all comes crashing down, you'll never ever be able to forgive yourself

Gently, or as gently as I can, I touch the shoulder. Jerk. What? He turns around. He? I'd somehow been thinking she all this while. Makes it a mite different, or does it? And, sure enough, I see tears, glistening in his resentful face. Make that very, very resentful.

"You have a problem? Do I know you?" Uh oh. "No, but I figured“umm”I thought that maybe you“weren't feeling too well”or something?"

Good work, woman, you're good at handling these totally awkward moments, aren't you? He looked terrible, eyes blood shot which was the most evident in the darkness. I couldn't gauge anything, but his mood, and that seemed black, at the very least. So, what? Was this my cue to act like this was a big mistake, apologize for disturbing and go back to bed?

"Can I do something to help?" Where did that come from? I cannot believe I was prolonging this.

"No". That seemed final enough. Well, I'd tried, right?

"Thanks though". Oh! I turned around, and smiled, very tentatively. " You're welcome. Hope you feel better, soon."

"Yeah, I do too". He smiled, well, almost. From what I could make out in the orange beams of light that scatter through the train windows, I saw a young face, sorrow etched on it. That effort to smile transformed the atmosphere, previously awkward and tense, into hesitantly friendly and almost warm.

He sat up, and swung his legs down. And before I knew it, he was standing next to me. "Excuse me, I'll just be back in a bit."

I didn't know what I was supposed to do. Wait, I suppose. So, I sat. Sleep seemed a distant prospect, given that I'd voluntarily welcomed this bit of distraction, in an already disquieting journey.

"Hello, I'm Vikram. If I'm not mistaken, you would be Aparna?"

If I say that I was alarmed, shocked, plain simple taken aback, I would not be exaggerating. And, if nothing else, I am as transparent as it gets.

"Hey, relax. I saw you at the orientation session in Mumbai. You were the only girl, so obviously more noticeable than the others".

Oh. Wait a minute, that meant.

"You're joining the institute too." Smart observation, Aparna. And then you wonder why they call you Wonderkid.

"I'm sorry I intruded." And he would just love you for reminding him. Atta girl. Way to go.

"No, thank you for coming in when you did. It's not very pleasant and macho for a man to be seen crying, I suppose, so I didn't love it that you did, but right now, I'm almost glad you did". He grinned. "I'm hungry. Is that an apple I see peeking out of your bag".

I laughed. He was doing this so well. I would have been awkward and uncomfortable, and even curt. But, this guy.

"This is good. Thank you. I saw your father settling you in. Love you a lot, don't they, your folks? Only child?'

"No, I have a younger brother, but yes, I'm pretty much pampered, I guess'. Polite conversation, this wasn't. And it's not what he was saying, but the way he was. I think he needed to talk.

" I need to talk. Are you feeling sleepy, or are you feeling generous with your time?" Not too many people would be able to say no to this person when he smiled.

"Tell me."

Before we knew it, it was morning. We were sipping on hot tea, munching on biscuits and taking in the scenery. He looked unburdened, and I felt, well, I felt grateful. For small mercies. For parents. For life.

Ever wondered why it is that strangers talk, especially when they know the chance of them meeting again is infinitesimal, if not zero? Save the embarrassment of not having to live with the vulnerability of knowing that even though this person knows it all, one would never have to meet again, I can't think of any. And, that can be a big reason.

And here we were, destined to spend the next couple of years at very close quarters. Still talking, listening, understanding.

Without going into what was said, it would suffice to say that I entered Ahmedabad feeling fortunate on two counts.

My parents love was my security, my support. I had needed this journey and this man's story to appreciate it, but I had finally made a beginning.

And, had I not had the courage, the instinct to make that simple gesture, I would not have met my best friend.