Whispering Shadows : Part1

Ramilla can recollect everything. Leaning on a back of a boat dug in sound she stood alone as a colourful evening approaches..in this fascinating spot where the blue river water and the green sea waves get mixed. This is an estuary where far across large ships are anchored far away..it is always a breath taking scene to see the river finally able to find him and jump with all her gains pains losses and love jump on the broad chest of the sea..she thought do the river after meeting him again after a period of fatigue and surrender can recognise him as the man he left..? Or he has changed somewhere?Or the sea now busy in some other attractions or found some new one?....The bubbling river water or the roaring sea waves gave no answer.. But still Ramilla remember evening..when she in one evening along with her group of friends came here for picnic and while in the exuberrance of youth while taking dip in the sea..suddenly a big wave hit her and she saw dark for a moment and the next moment she can see only water..water..water..and within seconds she have respiratory problems..and she started to faint..she forgot all the basics of swimming..and her body became stiff..her body became heavy and is gradually getting drowned ..when suddenly a watersport boat came around her and a man jumped and shouted..Open the eyes..open the eyes..Look here my hand..grab it..just grab it..I know you can..you surely can..I am here..I am here..and she grabbed the hand..and she took her within his hands and brought him on the shore..and before she fainted She heard..Lady..my name is Aryan! .............Ramilla took a long breadth...and then a red blush brushed in her cheek..as she remember that months later it is in these sands somewhere along a thatched hut Aryan first kissed her!..Hey Doctor..a shout came from back ..she turned round and saw her attendant. The patient has high fever and its increasing...Ramilla jumped on and in quick steps walked towards the home..She want only one thing in life. To cure Aryan and ask him one question one day seating beside him..with her deep eyes.. Do Aryan love her still? Contd.. The Letter.... The evening passed. The moments passed. The fragments of time carried on the wings of eternity passed. And like an uncherished picture of times immemorial..Ramilla kept seated beside the bed of Aryan. Whistles of a ship trooted the air..sea waves crashed against the shore..boat men got busy entertaining the tourists..the flashes of camera can be seen..a kid flew away in the purple coloured sky..a bunch of red balloonds and then clapped..the old wrinklefaced man along the wrecked boat sat n kept stitching the damaged fish net..within his squeezed skin and brown lips a smile drawn..the light house started offering the signal to the lost soul..in the mid ocean..the pleasant winds visited the sandy beach n roamed..a group of tourist found it as the right time to enjoy a foot massage along with beer..and quite near..very near to Ramilla's eyes..the sheets of a calender kept flying in wind as if making her go back..back to those golden days..as a drop of tear came through her eyes and dropped in her kurta..she again touched her hand on Aryan's forehead and found it heated..fever is still high..inspite of the medicines..the fever is not decreasing..the Doctor came again and said its a kind of shock and carelessness to the body and foodless survival of some days that made this disease..Ramilla kept on looking at Aryan's face and prayed..come back..come back..Aryan..plz ..I want to hear your voice..plz..plz..Why you tortured yourself so much for coming back to me..why?Am i so special? And if so then why at that moment we got parted?..Ramilla kept on looking..from evening Aryan spoke three times..like a broken series of a letter..I WOULD BE BACK..I AM COMING..RAMILLA! RAMILLA! and then again lost away...Now with a trembled hand Ramilla kept her fingers on Aryan's body..on his hair..his face..and while buttoning his one unbuttined bound he found that in his pocket there is a sheet of paper..she got curious and brought it out and in a whisker read it..it was written................... I will be back Ila..forgive me..Aryan.... Ramilla's fingers again trembled..her whole body took a stir..and then like a waterfall she boke away and thought..The river is lost! No more the sea can recognise her.It is time for the sea for a story of a new river! Ramilla kept on crying. But what she thought about Aryan, the man fighting with shock and amnesia knew deep within his sleep of lost senses.... That it is wrong. Seriously wrong.








..Ramilla seated on the sand like a wax statue when winds kissed her..and the sea waves gradually came and make her toe wet..then she suddenly got a touch on her shoulder..Ramilla jumped on and then she found that there is standing no one but Aryan himself!







For a moment Ramill's face brightened..then she recollected the letter and her face again dark..and at that moment Aryan sat beside her and said.."Can you tell me Madam..where I am..where I am exactly..I went in search of someone..someone..whom..Oh God..I cannot remember anything..what,s her name? And how I came here..just here..madam..can you can you help me..I need to find her..find her..and suddenly he caught Ramilla's hand without any notice and fell down on her lap and lost senses again!Ramilla almost in a shock started shivering..the wind appearing very sharp to her..as if with teeth..and Ramilla realised that Aryan has got memory loss..how terrible..and he forgot all about her periodical grief and kept her red lips on the forehead of Aryan..saying..It is me Aryan..it is me..your Ramilla..whom you are searching she is here..I am here..open your eyes..sweetheart..open your eyes!..But Aryan gave no answer.Ramilla saw that Aryan is lying on her lap and his lips are over the locket..as if..as if..Aryan is kissing it!

The Letter..the locket and the loss! (Contd..)

The Letter.... The evening passed. The moments passed. The fragments of time carried on the wings of eternity passed. And like an uncherished picture of times immemorial..Ramilla kept seated beside the bed of Aryan. Whistles of a ship trooted the air..sea waves crashed against the shore..boat men got busy entertaining the tourists..the flashes of camera can be seen..a kid flew away in the purple coloured sky..a bunch of red balloonds and then clapped..the old wrinklefaced man along the wrecked boat sat n kept stitching the damaged fish net..within his squeezed skin and brown lips a smile drawn..the light house started offering the signal to the lost soul..in the mid ocean..the pleasant winds visited the sandy beach n roamed..a group of tourist found it as the right time to enjoy a foot massage along with beer..and quite near..very near to Ramilla's eyes..the sheets of a calender kept flying in wind as if making her go back..back to those golden days..as a drop of tear came through her eyes and dropped in her kurta..she again touched her hand on Aryan's forehead and found it heated..fever is still high..inspite of the medicines..the fever is not decreasing..the Doctor came again and said its a kind of shock and carelessness to the body and foodless survival of some days that made this disease..Ramilla kept on looking at Aryan's face and prayed..come back..come back..Aryan..plz ..I want to hear your voice..plz..plz..Why you tortured yourself so much for coming back to me..why?Am i so special? And if so then why at that moment we got parted?..Ramilla kept on looking..from evening Aryan spoke three times..like a broken series of a letter..I WOULD BE BACK..I AM COMING..RAMILLA! RAMILLA! and then again lost away...Now with a trembled hand Ramilla kept her fingers on Aryan's body..on his hair..his face..and while buttoning his one unbuttined bound he found that in his pocket there is a sheet of paper..she got curious and brought it out and in a whisker read it..it was written................... I will be back Ila..forgive me..Aryan.... Ramilla's fingers again trembled..her whole body took a stir..and then like a waterfall she boke away and thought..The river is lost! No more the sea can recognise her.It is time for the sea for a story of a new river! Ramilla kept on crying. But what she thought about Aryan, the man fighting with shock and amnesia knew deep within his sleep of lost senses.... That it is wrong. Seriously wrong.








..Ramilla seated on the sand like a wax statue when winds kissed her..and the sea waves gradually came and make her toe wet..then she suddenly got a touch on her shoulder..Ramilla jumped on and then she found that there is standing no one but Aryan himself!







For a moment Ramill's face brightened..then she recollected the letter and her face again dark..and at that moment Aryan sat beside her and said.."Can you tell me Madam..where I am..where I am exactly..I went in search of someone..someone..whom..Oh God..I cannot remember anything..what,s her name? And how I came here..just here..madam..can you can you help me..I need to find her..find her..and suddenly he caught Ramilla's hand without any notice and fell down on her lap and lost senses again!Ramilla almost in a shock started shivering..the wind appearing very sharp to her..as if with teeth..and Ramilla realised that Aryan has got memory loss..how terrible..and he forgot all about her periodical grief and kept her red lips on the forehead of Aryan..saying..It is me Aryan..it is me..your Ramilla..whom you are searching she is here..I am here..open your eyes..sweetheart..open your eyes!..But Aryan gave no answer.Ramilla saw that Aryan is lying on her lap and his lips are over the locket..as if..as if..Aryan is kissing it! ..................................Suddenly a big rush of sea waves touched the shore..literally it broke down on the back of Ramilla ..her kurta got all wet..and more than that it made Aryan wet too..and suddenly..There is a jerk in his body n his lips shivered ..trembled n there are words..Ramilla took Aryans head in two hands and he can hear Aryan saying like a whisper..Ramilla is it you? The world became again lighted for her. She forgot everything and kissed the lips of Aryan uttering..I am Ramilla..yes I am..Aryan tried to open the eyes but cannnot only eyelids half open..said again..Is it Ramilla..is it her fragrance?Ramilla now cried again and hugged Aryan..and said..I am here..open your eyes Aryan..n its me..only me....But Aryan is quite again. And he has again lost sense.....Sea waves came..birds came to their nest..ships started playing cruise and night slowly sheltered herself on the beach. Ramilla kept on seating..alone..like a woman of paradox..who found and lost love at the same time.....to be contd. *********************** It is a beautiful sunny morning. Wind gentle, waves asif crystal clear, sky shining with threat of no clouds. Ramilla however in her heart confused and hopeful at the sametime. As Aryan came to conciousness three times and then again lost it....it may be to her for the shock..and coming back of memory is a good sign..now she dressed in a red skirt n yellow top came out of the house and at that moment the postman called her.. A letter for you lady! The postman came smiling and handed her the letter..and seeing the emblem and the subject of the letter Ramilla lost all words..the letter came from U.S...from University of Michigan and it deals about her dream project of Doctorate..which she applied six months back with no hope of acceptance..but it has been accepted..an unbelievable thing like a pebble turning to gold..Ramilla has been asked to join within two weeks time and to send it by one da the acceptance offer of the Fellowship proposal..and as Ramilla totally confused stood still a voice came from her back..Good Morning charming lady..can you recognise me? Ramilla turned around and saw a man..an old man..who bear a smile in his face with his eyes dancing..And then he said again.. The Man with the Felt Hat is back lady..oh daughter can I have a cup of coffee? Ramilla stood still confused much more than earlier and she smiled towards the man..though thinking deeply..how many surprised life awaits her at the same time? And what she would do now..At one side..the fellowship proposal..secondly Cornel Tod a father like man who gave her shelter here when she was all alone n lost..coming back..and on the other side..like a smile of destiny stands Aryan..her love! Now which one..which one would Ramilla accept? She tried to find the answer in the glorious sunshine.But alas! No answer came.

Colonel Tod speaks..(Contd.)

In afternoon Colonel Tod sat in his arm chair with a glass of chilled beer. A pleasant wind is blowing, the sounds of the hub of the nearby beach bisected the air, the sun shining though it has lost its heat. Ramilla also seated opposite to her in a cushioned chair. She trying to act happy as this old man meant a lot in her life......'I want to tell you a story Ramilla' Tod said. Ramilla smiled. May be PaaI hava also a story to tell you. 'She is a quick decision maker.She decided to open the story of Aryan before him and lets see what are his viewpoints. 'But you should begin first Paa' said Ramilla ..Paa denotes an alias of Papa.. Tod sipped the beer and started' 'Well my daughter, I should say that after retiring from military life my recent interest is Archaeology.. A subject..leading a backward journey of time. I don't know how I got enthralled by the subject' may be I have seen so much war and bloodshed of the presence that now I want to go back to past. I came here straight from the state of Bikaner..in Rajasthan..before that I was working in China..on an interesting subject about the myth of a lost Port or Harbour of Harappan times of India..we trying to found out the source of the port..and the hinterland..and the trade route..we progressed very well our journey from China to Bikaner..denotes that.. And within this a man joined who have a brilliant knowledge of archaeology...it wd be right to say that he accelerated our excavations to a great degree..until that day when that scoundrel fly away with all my notes all my detailed research works.. and I started following his trail..I got the news that man..that thief..that betrayer has come somewhere around this beach city..and I would not leave him..that scoundrel.. 'Do you know his name? You can report the Police.' 'I would surely do that! The name of that scoundrel is Aryan. Just Aryan!' Ramilla in utter shock jumped off from her seat. And kept on staring at Tod with disbelief. 'Oh my daughter, dont get shocked I would surely find him..now seat and let me your story!' Ramilla sat in the chair. What story she can tell now? Her all stories again got jumbled up. Moreover she has listened a new story now. Aryan a bettrayer? Colonel Tod sipped again the beer. Then said, 'Come on..its time for you to speak.' Paa is wrong. Ramilla thought. Its time for her of silence. And may be for life. She now uttered in soft voice..' Paa, i will tell you the story..but some other time!'


The Call..

Ramilla came and took a seat in her favourite chair and switched on her laptop. And visiting her mail account the very first thing she did is that she sent an acceptance letter for her Doctorate proposal to the University of Michigan. Let anything happens..this is her dream project and she will not miss it by any chance. Every person has an aim in her life..and this is Ramilla's aim. Moreover if she can wait and wait for Aryan..why Aryan can not? And moreover if Paa is right then how a persom whom she gave everything can be a betrayer? How can she keep on contact with a person of such morals? A thief? ..As the mail account confirmed the sent mail message ..a call came from outside. It was the voice of Elena..Mam..the patient has come back to sense..and she is calling Ramilla..saying that he is having a terrible pain in head and before he forget anything..he have a very important thing to tell her..A secret which he can only tell Ramilla!

A Wild Thought

Sometimes I think life is a brilliant wonder..


Sometime a soothing orchestra of wet drops of rain..

Sometime life is all about passing by through a distant whistle of a running train..
Sometime again it is an urge or a nemesis of a break away run..
...........And the run begins from cascading the known from the open world of unknown..and thus
I found myself totally exposed..walking alone beneath the horizon..
As I walk I found myself..
On the pitch coloured road of the vast world..
Following the engraved footsteps and footprints of the millions who have passed
For ages and decades and centenary..
May be the name of this particular road has changed..may be the name itself is a misinterpretation of epigraphed regionalism..
May be the grains of daily struggles of life is itself now a rich history..
May be the pattern of ages has changed the passion of needs..
May be the whole known surroundings has been fragmented into a new..totally new identity..
May be underneath my feet the history remains silent for ever knowing everything..
May be the reason for growth and cause of destruction..
Of each period..each empire..each event..
But as I walk I found out with a shiver..
Beneath my feet the road..the path.. can loose everything ..except..
The wild truth..
The touch of a new man walking on a new road on a new Journey..

The Midnight Whisper

Within the coveted roads I found the shadow of moments..



I found the surrender of uncherished desires..

I found the translation of dreams through the lost nostalgia of hypnotic rememberance..

I found the twinkling of some invisible bells..

I found the solo cry of the night bird yet in a bewildered moment of dew soaked wings.,

I found the lonely farmer with heaps of corn walking with a blink of shared unworldliness..

I found the village women with half flying veils..

I found through the paddy field the gili danda of the naked children..

I found the steam of a factory covering the horizon and the sunset..
I found the lonely temple on the top of a lonely plateau..
I found the wrecked lamppost beside a thatched hut..
I found the half exposed moon from the blanket of white layer..
I found the offerings of those remote stations..
I found the dense fog overlapping me with all its touch..
And like a man...reincarnated..
Found through the dense fog..
Different images of myself..
Like a flash of eternity..
Like a touch of the dust..
Like a kiss of Life..

Like a trembling truth of the mysticism..
And a nemesis of a deep rooted emotion..
Through the whistle of the train..
Through the freezing cold of the midnight..
Through the lively sketches of a full fledged life..
At a junction of a Station..

I waited..
Lost and Found..
Wet and Warm..
Shades and Shadows..
Of a conversation
Between me and my inner soul..
Through letters and words..
Of yet not said..of yet untouched..unshared..unexpressed..
Through the Midnight Whisper..
Of The Last traveller of the Last Train!

Love in the Desert Rain

It was one of those special nights in Jaisalmer.
Jaisalmer..A city of desert..a city of history..a city of Rajputs..a city once captured by the Khalji dynasty. And it is also a city of very simple people who smiles at every word keeping their daily hazards of poverty and pains in shadow.

It was a quite night, after dinner I just went for a walk around the hotel when suddenly I felt something.
Something new happened.
Something touched my hand.
I looked up towards the sky.
And once again the touch came.
The touch of water droplets.
Little liquid drops of sheer amazement in this city of desert.
And soon it started raining.
Clouds floaked in the vast sky.
Winds rushed.
Sands gripped the roaming air.

And within that from all around came running people shouting almost chanting, ‘Barish! Barish!’(Rain..Rain!)
Their eyes full of wonder, happiness and ecstacy.Some hugged each other,some ran across the desert,some jumped,some shouted in their local dialects..there..in front of me lay a group of local –people to whom today again is a night of magic! As clouds hardly stops at Jaisalmer. In the whole Rajasthan broadly. Maybe this rain came after 3-4 years!
Thus to all these people..the colour and touches of rain appeared special.
Special like the first touch of a woman!
And at that moment within the vast epitome of the brown sand dunes and the ripple marks I saw a girl.
She is hardly twenty.
And she like an open spirit running all over the desert!
Her hairs open like a fountain.
Her face blushing with some innocent godly beauty.
Her naked feet creating ripples all over the sands.
Her yellowish Choli(blouse) and green ghagra(skirt) getting wet and soaked in rain.
I got mesmerized and went on looking at her.
A mere local Rajasthani girl appearing in my eyes as the most beautiful lady of the world.
Again the splashes of rain.
Again the winds sharp.
Again the lightning blue through the white desert.
Again far across..two camels along with a caravan move on slowly..bells ringing from their neck.
Again the rain drops touching and pouring down the girl’s body.
Her hair.Her neckline. Her hands.Her feet.
And her lips.
Wet lips.
Winds crossed her and swept me.
I shivered.
The winds carried something more with it than the rain.

Beneath the Golden Fortress on the top of the mountain..within the seven hundred years old city..within the scattered broken historical buildings..the smell of a local Rajasthani girl of Jaisalmer slowly spreaded throughout my body..
A smell..a fragrance of a silent love.
I kissed it!

Words Images and Myself

Me


Some words are never spoken..

Some faces are never known..

Some people never fades out..

Some roads are yet to to be stepped in..

Some places are yet to be explored..

Some nights are sometime special..

Some moments holds uncherished desires..

Sometime one is lonely..very lonely..

Sometimes only one question rings on..rings on..

What I want?

What I want?

What I want?



She

I saw her standing over the platform..all alone..

A desolate Station of a chilled November midnight

Not a soul anywhere except her..

Has she lost the road or came there anyway?

Has she in wait for someone..her lover coming in the up-train?

Trains came..one up..one down..

No body got down

Neither she got in..

And the train disappeared among the foggy night..

At that moment she turned her eyes

and kept on me..

I shivered!

May be I have seen her earlier, yes I did..

I met her on the stairs of Varanasi on the bank of the Ganges..

Or I met her on a boat in the mid river?

Or is it in the busy streets of Calcutta?

Or in a narrow muddy strip of a remote village?

I don’t know..

I saw her standing..all alone with eyes on me..

I smiled..

May be I have seen her nowhere

May be I have seen her everywhere

As she is nothing but a very simple woman..

On whom I found my piece of love..!

I saw her standing over the platform..all alone....

The Footprints

The rain came suddenly.



Sanchita never expected that out of that maddening beauty of horizon , the mixing of different shades of red purple and blue would be replaced by dark grey clouds in such rapidity. Though the air spell that , even the sky showed the signs but as Sanchita was sitting with face towards west she hardly saw that arrival of heavy clouds.



And thus she was caught in the rain badly.



She is running fast, parallel to the river side. With big droplets of rain pouring, running is really not the easiest , specially for a Kolkata girl like Sanchita. She now began to curse herself for not bringing her maternal brother. Buro asked her multiple times to accompany her but Sanchita refused . She for the first time came to visit her own village , Rajpur , a mere spot in the district of Murshidabad. And thus she wanted to get a feel of the place and to enjoy the smell of the sowing crops , the wet fragrance of grass, the partial brown un finished Khowai road, the sound of tractors spreading water, the grazing of cattles in the field and obviously , the vast sky which gradually disappeared where the



village ends only again to start a new beginning.



However her adventure has now most unexpectedly reached a climax.



She is running. Her hairs blowing , dupatta in wind, struck tightly to neck , her green salwar with her every step adoring new splashes of mud.



The wind is tremendous. The reddish appearance of the horizon has vanished with twinkle of eye, and it is replaced by diversified shades of clouds. And these towering



Cumulonimbus clouds looks really alarming.



While running Sanchita turned her head to the river. The small river , which is a distributary of the Ganges is now adored with waves waves and waves. The level of water is rising with great force. There is not a single boat in the river.



But there were some. Just minutes earlier. The Majhi(boatman) know the signs of nature.



And the evening light also has disappeared



It is really dark now.



Suddenly Sanchita stood still much in surprise.



As before her lay no road.



The path has vanished into scattered slums.



Sanchita confused turned her head and started walking in her right but again stopped.



Because suddenly in front of her a lantern is shown and somebody said her,



‘Odike noy!’ (‘Not that side’.)



Sanchita more surprised found that a young boy is standing before her holding the lantern.



The boy is tall, wearing a dhoti and a open-chested shirt. He asked Sanchita now,



Where she would go.



‘Mukhujye Bari. Tumi Cheno?(Mukherjee House, do you know the road?)



The boy didn’t said anything and started walking showing her the way.



The boy left the road and stepped in the sand.



Sanchita asker her to go through road but the boy said her that she is totally in the wrong way and for finding the right track they have to work some distance through sand.















So Sanchita started walking silently.



The outpour of rain has increased…. so did the velocity of wind…. grains of sands hitting eyes now and then…. the boy is walking slowly but gently…. his lantern caught in his left hand giving light to Sanchita…. The flame of lantern within the glass is shaking fiercely in this terrible wind…. a Deshawali song of a Majhi coming through the rainfed air …. the wordings still crystal clear…. water of the river coming in small splash and touching the feet of Sanchita and then disappearing in the wet brown sand…. the spots of her feet getting lost every minute in the mud with arrival of more raindrops…. Sanchita thought to cover herself in dupatta but it is of no use…. she is totally wet…. the sounds of thunder ….



the flash of the stormy evening with a sharp bluish light.... Sanchita forgot about her condition…. she started enjoying again .. as if she is walking through the road of eternity..



She is almost getting lost in some other world…. when her hypnotism broke ….



She looked forward….



There is not a single soul in the riverside except two of them ….



And she heard that boy is saying to her….



‘Abar adike….’(Now this side.)



They left the riverside and took the left hand road.



And within five minutes Sanchita recognized the road to the house and within



next five minutes they are approaching the Mukhujyebari , a renowned ancestral house of the village.



Coming near the door the boy stopped.



Sanchita felt that the darkness has increased suddenly.



She soon found the reason.



The light of the lantern has got out.



The boy is standing quietly…. his whole body wet…. Sanchita looked at him and thanked him and then suddenly took out a fifty rupee note and extended it towards the boy….



“ Na Didi….Ami ar janya..’(No, Didi.. not for this..)



The boy not saying a single word more , turned back and started walking.



Sanchita called him.



But he has gone.



He knows very well the way to the river.



Sanchita kept stranded in the rain.



She realized that she had done a wrong thing.



She should not have offered him the money.



She stared towards the ever increasing darkness and rain.



And at that moment she found her brother came running towards her with umbrella asking her where she was …. and ending…. ‘ You have lost the road certainly!’.



‘I did’. Sanchita said softly.



And then she told her brother about the boy.



‘Which boy’.



‘Who showed me the way from the riverside.’















His brother not paying any more importance took her inside the house.



























But Sanchita decided that tomorrow she would go to the slums and find the boy and apologise to him.



She went next day. But she didn’t found him.



She gave the description, there are many like him but none was him.



Sanchita came back to Kolkata.



She went Rajpur many times after that.



But she never found him.



Ten years have passed.



Married Sanchita came again with her little son.



She is standing in the open balcony of the old house.



A beautiful view of the river can be seen from here.



Sanchita stood alone.



After so many years she still remembers that boy.



She now thanks God that she never found him.



Because she never wanted to meet him again after so many years.



She in this ten years have felt.. a truth.



That boy is an unique shelter to her.



Or may be.. her unfulfilled apology has turned into an unexplained love.



The wind smells rain.



Sanchita closed her eyes….



She can see….within the horizon…. an evening storm…. a fierce wind…. a song of a Majhi….the trembling lights of lantern….a slow but gently moving figure of a boy…. his footsteps….



engraved in sand….



Sanchita kept on walking.

The Man with the Lantern

It was twenty past twelve.

And through the shades of midnight the Rajdhani Express suddenly halted.It was unexpected as Rajdhani stops only in some stations..clearly it was nothing but a matter of signal..I can hardly take bed so early thus I stood up and peeped through the glasses.



And I got stranded.

A beautiful night awaiting for me outside.


The station was totally empty..over the glasses I saw some yellow green leaves running scatterdly over the platform in winds..sky clear..stars shining at regular intervals.



It became tough for me to remain within the train.

I walked from the AC –Sleeper class,opened the door and stepped into the station.



As my feet touched the platform, a wind swept me which bear an unknown fresh smell

.Is it a smell of the soil?

Is it a smell of the cattlefields?

Is it the smell of the tree, its branches?

Or is it the smell of the night?

I don’t know but I felt the smell contains ingredients from all of it.



I looked front. There was no trace of any signal.



I started walking. The scattered leaves now roamed over my feet.

The wind blowing in different tunes..the sky looks amazing..no trace of clouds..a faint moonlight spreading herself over this unknown station at this particular night..the air is cold..



I stared at the mesmerizing view of the night which lay before me.



The station though almost empty has a view of solitary loneliness..only a light of the lamppost of the station glowing and pouring on a banyan tree..the tree is old with numerous branches..some green..some yellow..some without leaves..some with leaves shaking in winds..throughout the station beneath the the blue sky the banyan tree with all its shades of colour and spreading of green leaves among the yellowish image resembling as if the only symbol of life..behind the plots of cattlefields..behind some bushes..I saw ..quite far from here..a hazy layout of a steep plateau like structures..from which direction the winds are suppose to be blowing..there was hardly any sound in the place except..the clattering of a night bird..the flapping of its wings..a dog running through the fields parallel to the tracks..a cow standing in the night over the grazing fields..sometimes nodding its head unconsciously..all pictures of loneliness..all a piece of singleness trying to hold the epigraph of time..of life..all sketches of solitude..all pictures of a different world which made this night,this moment,this station so very precious to me..



I thanked God that the train stopped here..



It was really unique..far from all the resemblance of our known world..far from the sorrows and daily struggles of survival..this night showed the vast epitome of the world..lesson of feeling the world for some moment instead of only running and searching for meaningless worldly things..a desire of surrender to this world..to open myself completely and absorb all the wonderful gifts that the nature had to offer..a raga of timeless sensations..a feeling of individualness which can be so pure..so mouthful of essences of rendezvous..



I looked again in front..

Still no signal..

I prayed silently.

That may these moments continue as long as it can, let the signal be not sounded,let it be delayed..let it be delayed..

Suddenly there was a sound.

It gradually came near.



And then to my great surprise, I saw a person appeared from the darkness, behind the banyan tree..



He was an old man..with hairs a mixture of black and white..his face..a conglomeration of ripples..showing his age..his eyes..looking for someone..his hands..holding a lantern..the light now falling on my face..



And then a voice came..a voice which initially was of amazement but gradually reached that of shouting..

‘Harish..tu aaya..?’

The light of the lantern was now totally on my face..a heat coming from the lantern..

I was finding it utterly difficult to open my eyes comfortably..



I did after a while as the light got removed as the person now holding my hand.

‘Harish, mujhe pata tha..tu aayega..akdin na akdin tu jaroor aayega..kahan tha beta tu itne din..’



The old man before me almost looking at me as if he found his lost treasure..he went on speaking some meaningless words..which was enough to realize that there was some mistake going on.





I removed my hand and said in Hindi that I am not Harish and there must be some mistake.



The old man laughed..again tried to hold my hand..he said in a very soft voice.. Tera gussa abhi tak hai..’



I got disgusted and shouted ‘Choriya mujhe! Hat jaiiye Ihanse!’



Maybe my voice reached a higher pitch.



It broke the silence..a bird flew away from the nearby tree..within the scattered light of the platform another person came running and said, ‘Master sab, signal hogaya hai..ab chaliye..’



Hearing his words I looked at the old man, he is wearing a black suite and also in his left hand he has a lantern..indeed he is the stationmaster.



He looked at me strangely.

Winds swept between us.

A cluster of dust whirled.

Moonlight now in strips kissed the shaking leaves.







The stationmaster in disbelief once again hold my hand and said… ‘Tu Harish nahi hai?’

I nodded.

He kept looking at me for some moment.

The moonlight touched the old eyes, Is there any droplets of water?



He started walking back slowly.



Instead the other person who came later on and holding flag in his hand and appeared to be linesman said to me that to forgive the stationmaster. He said he was a poor man who lost his son twenty years back. His son Harish went from here but never came back. Thus the old man for these twenty years hoping each day as each train passes through this station that one day his son would come back.

But it never occurred.

Today also, it didn’t.



‘Usko maf kar dijiye babuji, who bhi Insaan hai’(Forgive him as he is also an human being) The linesman hold my hand and then ran back towards the station room.





Soon the signal was shown.

The green light flashed.

I boarded the steps of Rajdhani.

The train started slowly.

The yellowish platform passed.

The beautiful banyan tree passed.

Its dancing leaves passed.

The blue sky with numerous stars passed.

And then passed the ‘board’ on which the station name was written.

The light of the station as well as the moonlight fell on the name.

‘Paharganj’.



Another wind splashed.

I looked at the signal room.

There is the linesman.

And there is that old man.

Waving flag tiredly, slowly with the lantern in his left hand.



As the train was passing I saw that the old man was looking towards me as I stood in the door.

Did the flag and the lantern trembled?

Or is it just an illusion of mine?



I came back to my seat.

Through the looking glass I saw moonlight kissing all corners of the earth outside.

The outside world with all its people and their emotions was running again parallel to the train.

Another station came.

Passed.

Another came.

Passed.



I closed my eyes.

I can still see the old man with the lantern in his hand and saying with his eyes fully lighted and with a desire of all his life, , ‘Harish..tu aaya?’



His eyes waiting for the answer.

He is living his remaining life for that answer.

A little answer.



And I behaved with him roughly almost treated him like a beggar?

Why?

But what else I can do?

I opened my eyes.

I found my eyelids wet.

I am crying.



Looking outside through the moonlit landscape of the night I slowly uttered one word.

Sorry.

But the word ‘sorry’ never appeared such meaningless to me.



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