HOP...SKIP...& BUMP!

I remember Dipli (my cousin again who was doing her Literature studies & working for Katha) advising me not to join any sort of associations when in Delhi. I didn't ask her why she said that, she must have had her good reasons to caution me and at the same time even I am not the type of some who’d be interested to join any groups!
During those days the number of Kharkhowas was quite less compared to what it is now. I chanced to meet a few whacko’s who camped behind NDSE-I – they stayed on the fifth floor of a building – it was a big open space with two rooms, a kitchen and a bathroom. They were seven of them – two girls and five guys – a bunch of crazy people who lived life totally on the razor’s edge.
During those days cell phones were by no means a commodity as common as it is now. Only the rich and the affluent owned these gadgets. The seven wretched souls who lived on that terrace had a fine arrangement made – there was a PCO in the ground floor. The agreement was made that whenever a call was made to any of the seven fellas, the PCO guy should press a bell which rang on the fifth floor. And if that wasn’t enough, they had a chart stuck on the PCO with their names written and the number of times the PCO guy should ring the bell. For example if the bell was buzzed once it was for Mac, if it was buzzed twice it was for Partha, if buzzed thrice it was for Pomi…. so on… till it buzzed for seven times! It was funny to see them listen to the annoying buzz attentively and then run down hurriedly the entire flight of stairs to speak to whoever called…!
Many a weekends were spent partying on that terrace. There had been times when all of a sudden the gas cylinder would be exhausted in the middle of our partying sessions and the guys would burn stacks of newspapers to cook the food! They used the same set of bucket and immersion rod to heat water for a bath as well as boil pork! And I’ve seen Mac washing and cleaning cabbage with a scrubber!
Mac is one of those rare people I could go on and on writing – he has made us walk to Chanakya cinema to watch movies… he once took me & another girl called pinky for snacks and tea in Bengali sweets in NDSE-I and as we were through Mac asked both of us very seriously “Are you girls wearing high heel?”
“No” came the reply from both of us.
“Good” said Mac. He further added, “How fast can you girls run?”
We got an inkling of what he would suggest next, so both Pinki and me decided to pay the bill!

Winters make me nostalgic and remind me of my days in Delhi. I loved the winters in Delhi. Chilling cold and good enough to make you forget the gory summers plus an opportunity to smartly adorn jackets, pullovers and oh yes! Gorging tandoori chicken with shots of “Rums-Up” (that is rum & Thums Up)!
There are numerous incidents, instances and experiences which makes those moments truly some of the “best days of my life”.
I landed in the New Dlehi Railway Station one hot June afternoon. Getting down from the Rajdhani Express, the heat seemed to rip me and my senses off for at least some time. The train was on time and I spotted Ron & Rupa Pehi waiting for me. This was however now my first time, it was the second.
The first visit to this capital city was four months earlier in the month of February to clear my psychometric tests, group discussions and one grueling round of interview to get myself admitted into Delhi School of Communication for my PG studies. It was a two day visit and I didn’t have much time in hand. All I did was visit PVR in Saket and watched Air Force 1 with another cousin of mine Viki and his friend, both of whom were doing their MBAs from MDI Gurgaon.
But things would be different this time. My stay would not be mere 2 days. It would be counted in years and I knew I had to make the best use of it.
The year was 1998. I had just completed my B.com and awaited results. But I had cleared my MAT even before appearing for my B.com finals for I didn’t wanted to waste time thinking hard what to do next. Advertising was my call and DSC was the institute I knew I could not go wrong in choosing.
I was feeling quite at home because I was camping with my cousins for a few days in GK Enclave1, until Preeti my would be room mate (someone I’d known since my Gauhati Commerce College days, senior to me by two years with a big crush on Niki- another Guwahati Cousin) arrived from her vacation. Preeti was doing her MBA from EMPI Business School and stayed in a PG accommodation in the K block of South Extention II.
She called me once she was back i.e about two days after I had arrived. I hadn’t seen much of Delhi, but just passed by the Ring Road every morning when Ron & I went to drop Ron’s sister Paro to IP College I kept my own landmarks – just in case I found myself lost!
I moved into K2, NDSEII and lucky enough I was just a walking distance from my institute if I took the short cut through Masjid Moth. And the swanky shops and malls in the either side of the Ring Road – NDSEI & NDSE II would keep me quite occupied I pacified myself. Preeti and I shared a room with another girl called Juhi who was a Gujrati and an architect. But I hardly got to see her much as our timings were set in such a way that when she was in the room I was attending my classes and when I was indoors she was out on her assignments!
The next room had two more girls – their names I cannot recall now but they were good. And very soon this place became my home. We shared all our day’s experiences, we laughed, bullied each other, came to each other’s rescue when any one of the girls exceeded the “curfew” time!
There was one more lesson to be learnt though. I realized that spending time with friends’ everyday for a few hours and staying with the same friends together were quite different! I am not complaining.
My stay in K2 NDSEII lasted for about three months. I knew I had to move out when one fine day I found the unimaginable – there was a scratchy feeling in my head and to my utter horror i realized that the ugly little devils also known as “lice” had built their nest on my mane and when I took up this issue others seemed okay with it! For them it was something very mundane. And for you it might seem a bit over the top but I decided to pack my bags and move out!

For the last year and half I had a job to die for… a job my friends envied… being associated and working for one of the most renowned and oldest brand not only of India but of overseas as well, I thought nothing could go wrong, I mean nothing could be more perfect than this. But somehow the world does not stop revolving there.
People acknowledged me with a new found respect when I said I was with Hindustan Lever Ltd (then) and later it was Unilever. A company as big and mighty as Unilever surely knows how to keep employees happy and satisfied.
I’ve come across people who’d ask for my visiting card not because they wanted to know about my official details but because of the Company logo that glittered on the right hand top corner of the 3x2 card!
And when I finally said goodbye to my job, people in the immediate circle were left perplexed. The reason I shall come in due course, but at first let me tell you about the job I loved so much.
My job was that of a product trainer. Though I didn’t have targets every month, it was all the trainings and workshops we did that finally showed the rise in the excel sheets every month end in terms of products sold and revenue earned. So I was indirectly helping increase sales. The scenario is different now, there are four or five T.Os (training Officers) now, but when I was around I was solely responsible for the NESA region. This meant extensive and rigorous traveling.
Travelling is perhaps a major criterion why I accepted the job with a glee. I got to see many places… some places which otherwise would have never even occurred in my travel itinerary to have a “dekho”.
Traveling also meant facing all odds when not at all expected- be it unanticipated delays, road blockades, landslides, getting stuck in knee deep water, missing the last bus home, finding the hotel room not up to the standards.. you name it and I’ve faced it! But it’s these odds which have turned me more practical and logical for once, persuaded me to think of the box because no two situations were alike and I was on my own amidst a swarm of total strangers. A big lesson I learnt was having cash not necessarily comes in rescue. It’s the 3 Cs which has helped me overcome unforeseen situations – the 3 Cs rightly being COOL … CALM… & COLLECTED… and oh yes! I forgot to mention my portable MP3 who like a loyal spouse kept me company in my numerous sojourns and during that phase of my life when I felt I was actually living a life out of a suitcase!
And during these sojourns some faces I saw quite regularly, so much that except for their names I knew them by their faces and vice versa! The drivers & conductors of two Volvos – Dibrugarh & Itanagar route. Infact once my mother-in-law was traveling to Kohima and Nirav went to drop her at the Volvo point. The driver came up to Nirav and asked him “Aji baideo najai?” He further explained Nirav that usually he driven on the Guwahati-Itanagar route but henceforth his route has been changed to Guwahati-Kohima!
And how cold I forget the guy sitting behind the cash counter in Nahar restaurant in Koliabor junction where the Volvos stop for midnight meals? Then there are the two Marwari brothers of Jain Hotel in Jagiroad where you get the lip smacking poori-sabji – especially if you travel early morning and make it to Jain Hotel by 7.00 am. That was my regular halt if I travelled by Company cab to Tezpur or other places…. Here’s also this famous shop where you get the best of pedas in Bokakhat, thanks to Bimal ji… even if I go to Bokakhat after a gap of ten years I just need to make all to him and my wishes will be granted…(pedas off course!). And there were the lobby managers – Subansiri in Itanagar, Kristina in Imphal, Saramati in Dimapur… and a few bell boys! Every time I checked in these hotels their smiles would be same as welcoming a family member home!

He said he was in the railway station looking form me.
“Railway Station! Out of all places”; you may wonder.
But I wasn’t surprised. Nor was I bowled over. So what if it was about midnight?
Our last meeting was in this same station where I bid him goodbye with a heavy heart, running nose, watery eyes and a hoarse voice! And it was one of those rare occasion when I realized I’d miss him much.
He had these feeling running in him much before than me… I was seeing him off in the airport and I could feel the salty tears trickling from his eyes on to my cheeks as we hugged each other firmly. This was during one of our first few meetings.
We bumped into each other during Bhai’s wedding. He was Bhai’s best man.
Even before meeting him I had heard enough of him and I had a picture of him in my mind made. It’s altogether a different story that the picture I had in my mind and the way he looked quite didn’t match. It’s a different story because his namesake is the one who’d come to my mind every time he would be in our discussion.
But one thing was sure right from day one. We knew that we would be in each other’s good books. We never tried to impress, we didn’t try to act smart or for that matter woo each other. Not because we ran out of ideas but because in the back of our minds we knew exactly well that all this would lead to nowhere.
They say there is a time, place and age for everything… and without a doubt I adhere to it. Because there has been times and instances when we were lost in our own world of dreams, a world we had made for ourselves only, where it was ghastly to be sad, terrifying to be lonely and horrible to feel old! And it made both of us happy. We would giggle like fifteen year olds in love for the first time, our heart pulsating more than it usually did, we lived for the moment and we lived like there would be no tomorrow.
We were fulfilling each other’s vacuum; we didn’t have to ask reasons. We spoke to each other round the clock, be it on the phone or in our silence. We were together day in and day out updating ourselves with our minutest of details. It’s again a different story that we were thousands of miles away.
For a change the world looked beautiful. Everything around us seemed bright, happy and cheerful. And this momentary chapter in our lives termed as “happiness” was unquestionably a treasure for a lifetime.
Was everything going too smooth? Are tales with twists and turns better than mundane affairs of life?
Everything seemed smooth for us because we listened to only those tunes we wanted, we saw only those images we wished and erased all the ground realities without much fuss. We were both running away from reality.

This is not a love story with a happy ending; it’s not something you’d term as “tragic comic” either. It’s about two sane people meeting in very ordinary circumstances and gradually realizing that they had somehow missed the bus!
He was hurt and lonely and so was she. But they had different reasons to be so alike.
A broken relation, friends drifting offshore and coming back to an empty home-his only solace was his music, he rightfully treated his music as his loyal wife!
Yet he knew he could not be with her…
While she looked happy and was the life everywhere she went, deep inside she was hollow and empty. Something had died. She stopped dreaming about the good things in life. Life seemed so perfect for her, yet there was something terribly wrong.
Her marriage…
And perhaps this brought them so close to each other.
It was just being there which mattered. Plain friendship, where one could be just his or her own self, without a mask, sans the veil.
But everyone got it so damn wrong. Everyone had an opinion about it, they felt
jaded and they tried reading between the lines when there wasn’t anything to read and things were as clear as crystal water. Or perhaps they felt left out!
… and that’s how it goes.. and it’s a few moments worth….

Part I – Mine
I was sore. I was miffed. And I had reasons to be. Somehow I managed to put up a spirited and nonchalant image. But deep within the wounds weren’t nursed back to health as yet. And I knew this would take time. I tried to do things that would deviate my thoughts. And I tried hard not to go back in time, and I must admit that I failed pathetically. Friends were concerned and worried; thought I had gone bizarre; they said I “kinda look lost”. I knew what they meant and that they meant well. But apparently this was one stubborn hangover that refused to get off my brains!

It was raining heavily. My bus was at 9.30 p.m. It would be my first visit to Lakhimpur. I had traveled extensively across Assam but Lakhimpur always was left out for one reason or the other. I cross checked my bag to see if I had taken my ticket, cell phone, dairy and other junks as I said one short, quick and final prayer to God before embarking on my journey. 24 – it was written quite bluntly on the ticket. I roughly calculated in my mind where would I be unerringly seated. I assumed that it would be on the either side of the sixth row. Only if this was some calculations dealing with rocket science!

As I swaggered through the narrow corridor of the bus, I saw a stranger on the aisle seat. I placed my bags and took my seat and once again breathed heavily. I have a mental block traveling in AC; it’s similar to a bee getting stuck on a windowpane. I said one more prayer under my breath, though this time it was an earnest request to the bus conductor not to repeat the same lousy and dreadful movies they show! The bus soon paced on the sopping wet streets and I was out of city limits soon.

I gave one passing look at my co-passenger. Not because I had any purpose, but because isn’t it natural, most likely and expected to look at least once who is the person sitting next to you and will be traveling with you for the next eight to ten hours?

One momentary look at my co-passenger and the moment froze ceaselessly for me. The hairdo, height, posture, the stare behind those glasses, the pair of glasses and even the Adam’s apple! He looked identical, like peas in a pod. It was impossible to tell apart whether I was sitting opposite to a complete stranger or was he the stubborn hangover that refused to get off my brains! I did not have the nerve to look at him again. Turning my face to the extreme left towards the window I gawked into the darkness and the rains. I felt throttled. I wanted to get off the bus into the open and soak in the rains and fill my senses with some fresh air.

The bruises not mended as yet were again brushed by a fresh coat of bittersweet feelings, which were delightfully agonizing. The temptation to call him was high. I wanted to let him know that though we were some thousands of miles apart, I was here traveling with some total stranger who seemed to be his mirror image.

But I had a promise to keep… to myself and to someone who mattered more. I dropped the idea of calling him and stuck on to my vow… but to console my battered spirit I again looked at this stranger for reasons I cannot comprehend and oddly I felt secure traveling with this stranger whose name, whereabouts and everything else was not known to me… nor did it matter… after all he was just a stranger … its just a different story that he resembled someone and brought back to me memories and an ache so enjoyable…

Part II - His

I reached the bus terminus much ahead; not because I am a kind of a person who knows the value of time but because I didn’t want to get myself caught in the annoying downpour or an antagonizing traffic snarl. I didn’t have much luggage with me, just a knapsack and a bottle of water. I was on the sixth row and the 23rd seat. A wait can be quite excruciating, especially when you are much ahead of time, like the way I am today. The moment the door opened I hopped inside the bus and made myself comfortably seated. I had no idea who would take the window seat, nor did I fancy the window seat. But secretly I wished I had someone interesting to travel with. Only five more minutes were left and yet there was no sign of my co-passenger. The ignition of the bus was switched on and the cool breeze of the AC enveloped the bus. People were filling inside and taking their seats. Yet the seat next to me still remained unoccupied. As I was giving up all my hopes – well honestly I didn’t have any preferences of a co-passenger. But clandestinely I wanted someone who’d mind his/her own business and not prod into my life or that matter shrug elbow to occupy the great divide or the handle that divided the seats!

I was absorbed in making guess-estimates about my co-passenger so much that I didn’t even realize when did she hop inside the bus. It was the courteous request to “excuse” myself to let her in her seat that I woke up to reality and tally if my intuition and reality match.

She did not look as if she was going home on holiday; she looked much more like a student doing her apprenticeship. Or maybe a backpacker. But did I really care? I wished and hoped she wasn’t the kind of woman who’d pester at the slightest pretext! Not that I mean anything impolite.

She was lost in her own world. She looked vulnerable. There was something invisibly discrete yet innocent about her. I wanted to initiate a conversation with her but for some strange reasons I stopped myself. She was too occupied in her thoughts. I could gather it from the look in her dreamy eyes. I however took note that she looked at me with a strange gaze and turned herself completely against me. I wondered if I looked so disdainful and terrible! I got busy with myself and let this woman be herself, do whatever she pleased, in my thoughts off course.

I dozed off for sometime and the screeching brakes woke me up. I looked to my left; she was in a slumber, her head tilted to one side and arms wrapped around herself. Was she cold? Why was I worried about her? Why was I inviting trouble for myself. I am not a person to muddle with a stranger’s life, but why was I concerned for this strange woman whose name I didn’t even know? I wanted to hear her voice, I also wished she’d speak to someone on the phone. But I didn’t see a cell phone with her. Maybe it was inside her bag, maybe it was switched off, maybe she was one of those rare breed who didn’t believe in mobile phones… why was this happening to me? Why did I have this urge to wrap her a shawl and keep her warm in my arms?

I reached my destination way ahead than hers. I wanted to bid her farewell. Wanted her to tell to take good care of herself. She was in a deep slumber and for the sake of sanity and civility I drooped my idea of being the super hero… after all she was just a co-passenger… its just a different story that she seemed so familiar… I felt a certain degree of bonding … and some reasons only Heaven would know.

Part III – The Truth

This is a work of pure fiction. It bears resemblance to nobody, living or otherwise. Any similarity with the characters is purely co-incidental!