??

‘So, when does your train reach Rishikesh?” I asked her, already knowing it would reach by 8:30 a.m.
We were standing in the middle of the rushing crowds of Kharagpur waiting for their trains. Though
my train hadn’t yet started in Howrah, my ignorant friends were the reason I was there. Also, if it
weren’t her, I should’ve told them that the train would be late by three hours, thanks to my grandpa,
he had given me immense knowledge of how late the Indian trains would run because of their still
used British raj rules.

It had been nearly eight months since we’ve had such a long conversation with
proper things to talk about. She wore a Black-white striped tee and the classic black jeans she’d
always wear. The light breeze made her new look even lot cuter. It felt as if god gave me this chance
after all those days I got drunk and wept only because she wouldn’t talk to me. The wavy long pixie
cut with those black rimmed glasses was my compensation. I wished I could take a photograph as if
we did, at least I used to do.

She knew very little about trains. With her cosy handbag on, she just reminded of those cute indo-
American hippies who come to India knowing very little of how things go around here. “Nine o clock,
I guess.” She answered

“8:30 a.m., with usual of 1 hour and thirty minutes late”. I got a surprise stare in return.

I always used to know the details of the train by which she would travel, and would try for the tickets
and end up getting the next train, just like this time. I thought that I hinted it for her.

“You know, I always try for tickets to this train but not that lucky. “

“At least make it lucky next time. I am dying for a company.” Those were the golden words I wanted
to hear. I was rejoicing my victory inside my mind. I was picturing of how I would book adjacent
berths and would talk all the nights, lying in her lap like I used to. Also included of escaping her
parents at her station, especially her mother. When I think her mom, a shiver runs down thru my
spine.

The next fifteen minutes I explained her how trains would come late and how hard it would be to get
tickets for us to be together. I just feel like I shouldn’t have told her that. Fuck! I was telling her facts.
I should’ve manipulated the facts for my advantage. Finally after seven months and twenty eight
days, it was a talk. Maybe she didn’t hate me like I thought. She had forgotten it all, I thought.
Maybe I too should act like I did.