The train crawled out of the station leaving behind a sea of people, waving furiously at their parting family and friends. Children, sitting on the shoulders of their parents, called out their goodbyes in strangely cheerful tones, not quite reflecting the unhappiness that their adult counterparts seemed to feel. I watched from under a huge railway clock, knowing full well that this was perhaps the last time I’d see Arka.
A couple of hours earlier, we had made our way into the crowded train station, pulling suitcases full with clothes that Arka had long outgrown, sweatshirts that had never been worn in the sorry excuse of a winter in Bombay and books that had been collected from several places –the enthusiastic booksellers at Fountain and the air-conditioned book stores in malls which didn’t quite have the same charm.
I was carrying Arka’s backpack and since I have the emotional resilience of a child, I could feel the tears welling up simply because I knew this was the last time. I wore the backpack close to my chest, like Bombay trains teach you to. I hugged it really tight, when Arka wasn’t looking.
I pronounced it as Arka when I first met him. “Or-koh” he had corrected me and clearly I wasn’t the first person to say it wrong. After that, there was no looking back. I said his name in my head multiple times in the years that followed, every time he crossed the street to where I was waiting or every time his number flashed on my phone. Or koh. Or koh.
The station was too crowded to find a place to sit. I put his backpack next to his suitcases and stood there, my arms on my hips. “Do you have everything? Tickets? Water? Do you want some food? I could run across and get a sandwich or something.” I said, my words tumbling out, like tears that had been held back too long. He looked at me with a look of exasperation and mild affection. “I’ll be fine; I have travelled alone before you know.” I nodded.
We had something that I can’t quite define and we were stuck in a confusing little place between being best friends and more. I never admitted it to him or to myself even but I knew that his going away would give me some perspective. I’d know for sure whether I wanted to follow him, to pursue him, to demand that he be more than just my best friend. A big part of me also knew that once he sat on the train, I’d mentally give up. It takes too much out of a person to place your feelings in front of someone, knowing that there is a good possibility that they will take one look and shake their head. No.No.No.
My feelings had colourful clashes inside my head more often than what is healthy.
The train came into the station and people began to jump in, to arrange luggage and keep their things, so that they could hug and kiss their teary eyed relatives in peace. Arka and me stood still.
“I’ll go, I think.” I said and didn’t give a reason because I couldn’t come up with one. I didn’t want to stay because I know I’d cry. Arka nodded. “Yeah, it’s too damn crowded anyway.” “Will you be able to manage the luggage?” He nodded again. I hid in his hug, working my best to not tear up, something that would both annoy him and make him uncomfortable. He patted my back. “I’ll call you. This isn’t a big deal.”
I walked away but didn’t have the heart to leave the station until the train left. I stood far away, waiting, watching, and wondering. Wondering if, somewhere behind tinted train windows, Arka was looking for me among all those faces.
A couple of hours earlier, we had made our way into the crowded train station, pulling suitcases full with clothes that Arka had long outgrown, sweatshirts that had never been worn in the sorry excuse of a winter in Bombay and books that had been collected from several places –the enthusiastic booksellers at Fountain and the air-conditioned book stores in malls which didn’t quite have the same charm.
I was carrying Arka’s backpack and since I have the emotional resilience of a child, I could feel the tears welling up simply because I knew this was the last time. I wore the backpack close to my chest, like Bombay trains teach you to. I hugged it really tight, when Arka wasn’t looking.
I pronounced it as Arka when I first met him. “Or-koh” he had corrected me and clearly I wasn’t the first person to say it wrong. After that, there was no looking back. I said his name in my head multiple times in the years that followed, every time he crossed the street to where I was waiting or every time his number flashed on my phone. Or koh. Or koh.
The station was too crowded to find a place to sit. I put his backpack next to his suitcases and stood there, my arms on my hips. “Do you have everything? Tickets? Water? Do you want some food? I could run across and get a sandwich or something.” I said, my words tumbling out, like tears that had been held back too long. He looked at me with a look of exasperation and mild affection. “I’ll be fine; I have travelled alone before you know.” I nodded.
We had something that I can’t quite define and we were stuck in a confusing little place between being best friends and more. I never admitted it to him or to myself even but I knew that his going away would give me some perspective. I’d know for sure whether I wanted to follow him, to pursue him, to demand that he be more than just my best friend. A big part of me also knew that once he sat on the train, I’d mentally give up. It takes too much out of a person to place your feelings in front of someone, knowing that there is a good possibility that they will take one look and shake their head. No.No.No.
My feelings had colourful clashes inside my head more often than what is healthy.
The train came into the station and people began to jump in, to arrange luggage and keep their things, so that they could hug and kiss their teary eyed relatives in peace. Arka and me stood still.
“I’ll go, I think.” I said and didn’t give a reason because I couldn’t come up with one. I didn’t want to stay because I know I’d cry. Arka nodded. “Yeah, it’s too damn crowded anyway.” “Will you be able to manage the luggage?” He nodded again. I hid in his hug, working my best to not tear up, something that would both annoy him and make him uncomfortable. He patted my back. “I’ll call you. This isn’t a big deal.”
I walked away but didn’t have the heart to leave the station until the train left. I stood far away, waiting, watching, and wondering. Wondering if, somewhere behind tinted train windows, Arka was looking for me among all those faces.
No comments:
Post a Comment