The Train From Kurnool

The mid afternoon rains at Kurnool had hardly any effect on its bustling Railway Station...The local women sat in the shade of the awning at the entrance, weaving wreaths of Jasmine and Crossandra, urchins scurried around, splashing muddy water from potholes and men whiled away their post lunch recess gossiping over cups of Tea by the Paan Shop...The travellers, on the other hand, had little time and lesser respite to enjoy the languid afternoon drizzle...Some came in Autorickshaws and Motorbikes, half drenched and nonchalant, whereas others, affording the luxury of cars cursed the skies the moment they set foot on the Pavement...Inside the Station, surprisingly small for an erstwhile State Capital, commuters rushed in and out of the halting trains, some, frowns on their faces, preoccupied with work, some, beaming, elated to be home and others, like many of us, emotionless...

"I See You...Know You See Me Too"  ♥
It was in such situations that Saritha and Prashant boarded the Chair Car of the awaiting Tungabhadra Express that was to take them to Hyderabad...Ofcourse they didn't do so together, Prashant was with his friends, well ahead of the scheduled departure, settled comfortably by the time the Train stirred on its tracks, oblivious to the fact that Saritha, breathless, had barely managed to catch hold of the handle and push herself up the Train...Indignant at the smirks of few teenagers who stood by the door, she pretended not to notice, subtly arranging her dupatta and combing through her hair with her hands...Giving a final tug to her kurta, and a shrug to settle her backpack, she walked into the Chair Car...We could ascribe it to fate but Prashant was the only person standing at his seat, chatting with his friends and with everyone else's back to her, it was only natural for Saritha to look his way...For a second, as Prashant looked up at her, he stopped mid-sentence, barely managing to cover his distraction before his friends turned their heads and found out the reason behind it...As has been described and documented an infinite number of times, something happened...Now there weren't any visible sparks or signs that could be of the remotest interest to their bored Co-Passengers but the hearts of a certain Boy and a certain Girl managed to leap, metaphorically ofcourse...
Prashant looked at her and thought, "Hmmm, simple, now not that fair but isn't dark the colour of the season?Well made up, as a girl ought to be...What do they call those dark eyes, aah, Smokey ! And tousled hair, must have taken quite a while to set that up..."Straightening his slouch, his thoughts continued, "Tall...Almost as tall as I am, isn't she?Healthy, (Thank God), these skinny girls of today ! I like the colours too, a bit dull for clothes though but from the looks of her, she probably works for some NGO...How I wish I wasn't in such a gaudy Blue !"
Saritha found her seat, regretting for the first time in her life that she had one at the Window rather than by the Aisle..."He's cute, isn't he?" she ventured into her thoughts, "I wish I had time to touch up a bit, my Kohl must be utterly smudged...And my hair, sheer disaster, if nothing else ! Drat the rain ! And why did I settle for beige clothes, should've worn something darker...He seems to be a Techie, might be a Medico too, seems so decent, almost shy...Hmmm, anyways, he's way out of my league, with that personality, who can match the dowry his family must be seeking?How typical, now I'm thinking of marrying an absolute stranger and possibly having his kids !"

"There's Something About Today That Says 'Maybe' !" ♥
She couldn't see him from where she sat, so resignedly, she plugged in her earphones and opened her laptop and tried, her very best, to keep him out of her mind...He kept standing so as to keep her in his sights, however, all he got was the top of her head and the illuminated screen of her laptop..."She doesn't even care", he thought and sat down dejectedly...The Tungabhadra Express ran as fast as it could but crawled to a snail's pace as it lurked outside Gadwal...Prashant, suddenly uninterested in the conversation with his friends had tried to lull himself into a nap but as the train screeched into Gadwal, he gave up the idea and turned a frustrating glance towards her seat...The dreary blue vinyl covers stared back...But then, something happened again...
From the row of seats, next to her's, on the other side of the aisle, a young woman got up with her child...Saritha was suddenly alert..."Is she getting down?I hope there isn't anybody else..."She smiled at the possibility..."But how did it matter, if he had been the least bit interested, he wouldn't have sat down !", she thought, embarrassed by the fact that she had looked over her shoulder several times in the past one hour..."Oh God, I am being desperate now...", she added glumly...
Unknown to her, Prashant had thought of the possibilities a few times over by then..."But what would he say to his friends?"...All that seemed to come to his mind was the lame excuse of his seat being too cramped and as he made this vocal, his friends wondered what difference would moving to another, exactly similar seat make?Anyways, it was a matter of his heart over his mind and in such matters, as we all know, logic had never played a very vital part...She was in the midst of a yawn when he walked over to his new seat and sat down...She tried stifling it but it turned into a grimace and she hurriedly looked away..."A yawn ! God, why on earth did it have to be a yawn !" But she was ecstatic..."He had come, hadn't he?He didn't need to, did he?But he did !" She could sense his eyes on her profile and gave a smile, unhesitant, wholesome, pure with happiness...


"The Street Signs, The City Lights, All The Stars Could Lead Me To You..." ♥
Sriramnagar, Wanparti and Mahbubnagar came and went without much incidence...There were furtive glances from either side, unsure of what the other had in mind...He thought, "Maybe she isn't a good girl, good girls dont go on stealing glances at strangers !" She wondered on similar lines, "He might be just another good looking flirt, how am I ever to know !" But, strangely, both felt at ease, their hearts wanting to place its faith in the other's...A miraculous trust had forged between them...
"Does he love music as much as I do?", Saritha asked herself as her playlist reached her favourite track..."Does she read?", Prashant queried, turning the pages of an yet unread bestseller in his hands..."Would he mind that I didn't know how to cook?Or that I wanted to bungee jump off a cliff?Oh, maybe he's married, that'll sort it all !", absolutely absurd thoughts juxtaposed in  Saritha's mind..."She wouldn't ever look at me once she saw the scar on my arm ! And would she understand if I told her about my Football League?Maybe she isn't even from around here, we could never be together, that would be it !", Prashant was clearly catching up...And then, as it must, something happened again...Saritha looked at her window and in the dark, tinted glass saw him looking at her...Now for most of us, unromantic souls, catching someone's reflection in the glass would merely be the manifestation of Optics taught in school, but if either one of them were to be asked to describe that moment, they'd have inadvertently termed it as "Magical"...


"Dont Need A Reason Baby...We Might Be Crazy...Am Thinking, We Should Fall In Love !" ♥
It was settled, all that was wanting was a conversation...But, pun intended, that was easier said than done...And there wasn't time..."Malakpet was a few minutes away and he wouldn't get down there, would he?", thought Saritha as she flung her bag on her back and walked down the aisle to the door...The Passengers had thinned and his friends had joined him, laughing at all the Godforsaken things Men tend to laugh on ! She gave him an angry stare from through the Glass Door and it reached straight home...He felt awkward and clumsy and perturbed..."I understand the predicament, but what can I do?!" he wanted to shout back...She looked away, hurt and confused..."Had she imagined it all?"
He was restive now...He made a silent resolve and got up...His friends had started to wonder whether he was deliberately avoiding them ! Before they jumped to a conclusion, he reassured them, making a thankfully, more plausible excuse of going to the Restroom...Ofcourse, as men are, they took no further notice and got back to their utterly useless chatter...
Prashant opened the door to find Saritha and unfortunately four other passengers cramped up, waiting to be amongst the first to alight the Train at Malakpet...Saritha did not hide her delight, she just managed to blush and look away...He smiled...The chemistry was inescapable, mushy as the screenplay of a movie and yet it caused much apprehension to the middle aged man standing next to Prashant, watching the subtle antics of the two suspiciously !
Malakpet...Saritha got down and so did many others...Prashant stood by the door, perplexed...They still hadn't spoken a word...She waited a moment or two taking one painfully slow step after another...She didn't know what to expect?"This was it...", she thought, "Well, atleast my journey was memorable...Oh no, it wasn't ! Screw him, he was playing me along the entire way ! Or was he?" She hastened her step, and as she saw the Train hasten its speed, she promised herself not to give it another thought and furiously tried to divert her mind to tonight's dinner...
Prashant hastened his step too, much to the bewilderment of his friends who saw him on the platform, through the window ! They contemplated pulling the chain but couldn't make much sense of what they had seen and delayed the thought...After all, he could always take the bus to Secunderabad...What confused them further was that he had left his bags...What was he thinking !
Prashant wasn't really thinking...He thought it was a mistake but knew it wasn't...He saw her at a distance and jogged up to her..."Hey", he shouted and Saritha turned back...It was like one of those moments in movies when things happened, inexplicably, in slow motion...
She laughed out, "Oh my God !"...
He caught his breath, smiled and said..."Hi, nenu Prashant..."

"Let's Go Slow...We Got All The Time We Could Ever Need...We Could Catch A Movie And Possibly,
We Could Get Together More Frequently..."

♥

Author's Note:

#1: As I wanted my characters to be Telugu, I've spelled the lady's name as Sarit'h'a, as is commonly spelled in the Southern States...

#2: I've taken the lyrics (The sentences in pink with little hearts at the end) from one of my favourite tracks currently, Estelle's "Fall In Love"...

#3: The story bears no resemblance to any real event...( Or does it? ;) ) 

Reader's Diary: It Happened In Samarra

What happened in Samarra might not have made the headlines but it sure caught the attention of Dame Agatha Christie, W Somerset Maugham and our very own Lord Archer himself...And when I realised that the Iraqi fable which Ma used to spin forth for us and which we would lap up eagerly again and again, was making the rounds in such elite circles, I thought I must have it in my blog...Ofcourse, many of my readers might have had the opportunity of coming across the anecdote already, it being not an obscure piece of folklore but prominently featured in the 'Hikayat-I-Naqshia' by Fudail Ibn Ayad, but why dont I enlighten the rest !

Listen ye' all, for this is what happened in Samarra...

A thousand years ago, there lived a rich merchant in Baghdad...One day, he sent out his young servant to the marketplace for provisions...While he was at a shop, choosing dates and haggling over it with the shopkeeper, he happened to turn around and saw a beautiful woman in black staring at him...The cold stance and the threatening eyes conveyed to him that the woman was none other than the Angel of Death...For an instant, he was scared stiff but soon he gathered his wits and fled back to his Master...Panting, he spilled out his predicament to his Master and begged him for help...The merchant contemplated for a while and decided that his servant must leave for faraway Samarra that very day, so as to cheat Death who was awaiting him in Baghdad...Wishing him luck, the merchant handed over to his servant, his fastest steed...

Later that day, the merchant happened to visit the marketplace and saw the alluring Death smiling at him...He walked over to her and asked her the reason for threatening his servant...Bewildered, she looked back at him and replied..."But I wasn't threatening him, infact I was quite surprised myself to find him here in Baghdad...For I am to meet him, tonight in Samarra !"

Reader's Diary: My First Ten

"There Is A Great Deal Of Difference Between An Eager Man Who Wants To Read A Book And A Tired Man Who Wants A Book To Read..."

G K Chesterton

Ofcourse you remember your First Century for the School Cricket Team and your First Fracture when that raging ball caught you right on your Ulna...And the First time you walked up to the Auto Showroom to book your very First Car or the First time you were rattled to your bones when that Truck had hurtled towards you on the highway (Glad for the First time for the benefits of Car Insurance)...And you would never forget, would you, the First time 'She' walked into your life carrying a tray of tea, unsure of her gait, what with the discerning eyes of your Mother all over her ! Or, for that matter, your First row with 'Her' wouldn't skip your mind, would it, especially as you ended up getting her that Trinket on display in the Tanishq showroom !

So, here I am, finding, a long cherished dream in its nascent notches of materialising and several beautiful interwoven Firsts...My First job, my First Flat and my very First, treasured experience of Freedom...And in the midst of all the excitement, my library, taking shape...And would I start it with any book out of the blue?If you happen to know me well, you'd deny it as vehemently as I would ! I decide, with quite some deliberation, the First Ten books and put them forth for your judgement...

The Argumentative Indian

By Amartya Sen

Gifted & Shall Be Treasured...

Six Acres & A Third

By Fakir Mohan Senapati

Childhood Memories (Parvati Ghosh In The Movie Adaptation)
And An Urge To Purchase On Flipkart...

The Secret

(By Rhonda Bryne)

A Signed Copy From Mr Gadhre, The CEO...

Chanakya's Chant

(By Ashwin Sanghi)

When One Brahmin Wanted To Read About Another...

Train To Pakistan

(By Khushwant Singh)

Ofcourse I Ought To Have It !

Haroun & The Sea Of Stories

(By Salman Rushdie)

Testing The Waters Before "Midnight's Children"...

How I Taught My Grandmother To Read & Other Stories

(By Sudha Murthy)

The Tata Story And In Ardent Admiration...

The Brideprice & Other Stories

(By Fakir Mohan Senapati)

How Could I Resist !

Only Time Will Tell

(By Jeffrey Archer)

Shouldn't One Have One Masala Archer?

Myth=Mithya

(By Dr Devdutt Pattnaik)

Lets Just Say I Liked The Cover !

"Books To The Ceiling, Books To The Sky...

My Pile Of Books, Is One Mile High !"

Arnold Lobel

;)

A Creature Of Habit

That I am absolutely not ! And when I find myself dragged and pushed into a life of monotonous routine, naturally, I find it irksome ! So what is it that I endure, unfailingly, each and every day...

Autorickshaws !

They might go by the deceptive name of Mini Taxis (Oh ! The aspirations of some !), but in their truest and most inherent nature, they are bumpy, lowly, tin foil boxes of menace and pain...They run under the vile machinations of their Drivers who unfortunately forget to bring their brains to work and instead carry along a rucksack full of silly guts ! Ofcourse there follows no method in the operations of the autorickshaw...It might pick up from by the road anyone and everyone who tosses his/her hand out (Without much consideration of the fact that the tossing might be to straighten a crumpled sleeve)...And yet, on another day, the whims of the Driver might ignore the desperately flailing arms of commuters despite the fact that the 'Taxi' is empty ! And what do I write about the ride that follows?It could certainly put NASCAR racers to shame...

Air Conditioning !

My, my, do I see a few eyebrows raising?One would say, "She sits all day in the comforts of an air conditioned cabin and yet complains ! The audacity of youngsters !" I take a bow in reverence of the 'comforts' granted to me by the Company (Hallelujah) but coming from an humble upbringing in the sultry city of Bhubaneswar, the need of certain people to live their lives in a perpetual state of 16 Degree Celcius somehow fuddles my imagination...And do you not think that I have persistently requested the Admin to raise the temperature?But, seemingly, the entire staff is in the vile spell of that frigid white little box on the ceiling...Mutation, I presume...Well, it wouldn't be much of a surprise, if in a few months, I were to find a little penguin where Mr Ramanamurthy erstwhile sat ! Brrrr !

Walk ! (Or should I say Run !)

I wonder why BASF must build an office atop their warehouse, an economical way of coordinating the Supply Chain, I suppose...But what it does to a lone, abla nari is that she must walk a kilometer from the highway to reach her office each morning...Ofcourse the exercise is what I look forward to but somehow the trek by the long road of Trucks and more abominably, the Truck Drivers is something that I wouldn't categorise as a good habit ! On my lucky days, I walk with my earphones plugged in, oblivious to my surroundings and on days I would call not so lucky, a bit of jeering, a stray whistle or a few claps would fall on my ears ! And my heart would shout, 'RUN' ! Well, BASF is hardly planning to shift somewhere into the city, what with a voluptuous budget spent on the two month old office and Valsarajanji planning a Badminton Court...What I can look forward to (Chuckling) is the gleaming black Bolero that'll come my way in another 6 months...I might very well then go around showing a finger to those losers on the way ! 

The Other Girl...

The reference is certainly not to an adversary in a triangle of Love, she is merely the other girl, apart from me, in my office...Decently shod, a trifle bit shy and very much the efficient clerical brain...She was drawn to me, from the day we met, for a few words of professional advice (A few nicks and tricks on Excel, in which, I must admit, I am yet to be adept) and some unspoken assurance of sorority support...Everything seemed fine, I took to the sisterly role with ease, but then the insipid queries began to take their toll...A demonic toll at that ! It would start with a smiling "Good Morning Ma'm" and suddenly a seemingly innocuous "What did you have for breakfast, Mam?" would be hurtled my way...Each and every damn day ! It shamed me to say to her that I have two slices of Brown Bread or a few pieces of semolina rusk and that, unfortunately the woman she looks up to, isn't much of an expert in the matters of domesticity...I try my best to avert her query, to mumble a few inaudible words whenever she puts it forth but mind you, she is a persistent little bee ! So sometimes, I take to fabrications, Bread & Rusk become Idli, Ugaani or Poha and on few whimsical days, I even manage to cook up (Pun Intended) some Puri Bhaaji ! (Yes, yes, I am ashamed !) But what do I do when it seems as if there is a secret roster that she maintains with details of my morning dietary habits !

Quarrels !

Inadvertently, each and every night, there are sounds of a quarrel...Did I mention, I live in the respectable Doctor's Colony (Refer Dr Jeckyll & Mr Hyde) of Lal Bahadur Nagar?And yet, it escapes me how, but I hear them fight, someone or the other, squabbling away, in a drunken stupor or whimsical sobriety...Sometimes, they start early and go their separate ways by midnight and on other, unluckier nights, the theatrics begin when the clock strikes 12 ! Men, women and sometimes, screaming children...Residents of the adjoining Apartment Buildings or Vegetable Vendors at the nukkad...It is, as if God's way of sending to his children (Me in particular), minstrels to sing a lullaby ! And who said, God doesn't have a sense of humour !

Though I portray myself as the whimpering, complaining grinch through my aforementioned experiences, I must say there are some habits I am in no hurry to break...

>> A smile from my neighbour's wife and her toddler of a son when I step out to work in the mornings...(Well, we have never spoken to each other, I being unaware of Telugu and them of Hindi or English)
>> Bal Bahadur, the Nepali peon bringing me my cup of tea and a bottle of water to my cabin...
>> Dosa and bits from the others' tiffin boxes at lunch each day with all my bosses (Giri, Narayana and Valsarajanji)...
>> My house in the evenings...I spare a few moments in the Living Room, staring with hope at the marginally filled bookshelf with the first ten books of my personal collection and the glittering Kumukoppu I bought from Dharmavaram...