Friday 25 November 2016

THE JOURNEY- A FICTION

THE JOURNEY

People get acquainted at different places by different means; she met him on a platform. They were both on a long round the trip journey, though starting from different places. How long this journey would last, was not in the itinerary. She was travelling in an AC First Class and he was in a simple sleeper class! Though the trip will have to end and a respective destination reached, yet how one travelled does matter.
He had a cane to support him and as he was waiting on the platform for the journey, which he had been for quite some time, expecting a miracle to happen for someone to help him into his coach.
She was sitting alone, with a book in her hand
There was a travel bag by her side, weighing heavy by its bulky look, expressing the long journey’s requirement. If one had imagined what this bag would be holding inside one would be surprised, be ashamed to find no make ups, no lipgloss no fancy creams that the modern day pseudo-liberated girls would carry in addition to an I pad or phone! The bag was loaded with books- books on The Chaos Theory, The Butterfly effect, The bane of Civilization…on Shiva, Krishna, Christ, Astrology, Dreams and the Human Psyche, Dreams and Destiny, The Life before and Life after, Alan Watts, Rumi, The Life of Buddha, The Body and Soul of the Universe,….Mirror Neurons, and such books! Tender age doesn’t in any way preclude intelligence. Besides the books there was a huge collection of music – no reggae, no metals, no rocks…but sweet flowing words in harmony and melody, which she intended to share…with someone who would care to know her, her confused life in a highway both open and closed!
She saw him, slowly ploughing himself through on the platform, his cane heavily leant upon.
Sometimes some people felt that staying over a platform was better than being on a journey; its made more comfortable with adequate and sometime luxurious amenities. One has access to a different world with its spectrum of the day’s life-ranging from the silence of the night platforms, occasionally torn by the speeding noise of a train, to the absolute noisy daytime scenario, with the vendors, luggage handlers, echoing loudspeaker announcements of arrivals and departures, the women and men and the rickety wobbly wheeled luggage wheel –barrows! Others felt that being on a journey without getting onto a platform was a better choice, to avoid the same source of irritants listed earlier. Perhaps it will be next to impossible that one could be without the other if one is destined to travel.
He introduced himself to her eyes with his countenance; his weariness was obvious from the journey he had undertaken, much long a distance through arid desert landscape for most of the distance in an ordinary sleeper class. Moreover he showed definite signs of an age at least twice or even more than twice that of her age.
She smiled at him, though her childhood lessons were morbidly fresh in her ears” Don’t smile or talk to strangers”. She saw nothing more than a weary old man waiting for the next lap of his journey.
The same platform will be a host for many trains and people. So it became pertinent to respond to her smile, to inquire, whether she would be on the same train as he would be. Such inquiries seem to evolve as a herd instinct. Nothing more was evident from his voice.
She looked up at him; as if he was, a beast of burden all the life through, his broad shoulders seemed to have caved in. He pulled the telescoping handle of his wheeled suitcase with one hand, and on his other shoulder hung a guitar case! He had expressive eyes peering through her soul, she thought!
She was small…with small fingers and toes…a grownup baby…standing up to less than his shoulders- her black hair tailored to suit her neck…and parted on a side…the rebel in her was evident, that she was different from others.
“I am Sam, short for, you know, a name too mechanically long and complicated. So call me Sam for now” he said and extended his introductory hand!
She was amused by the introduction he made of his shortened name and her palm and fingers went snug inside his wider, stronger, yet soft palms!
She felt suddenly a sense of safety and warmth in his hand, looked up at him again and said” I am Bernadette”, with a flash smile that tried to hide the teeth, which might in a future date require braces and even a surgical correction, because she was conscious of an unacceptable facial contour.
She said with the same smile again,“ Yes, Sam”, I too am waiting for the same train, Sit”, pointing to an unoccupied cement bench behind her.
Sam pulled his suitcase closer to the bench and let the shoulder free of the guitar case, which looked fairly, aging in proportion to the owner!
He sat on the bench after her and heaved a sigh. The warm summer had been the talk on everyone’s lips. The thick cane now rested between his knees. It had a steel like metal handle on top, which appeared immaculately shiny and made of a material, Bernadette imagined, may not be steel.

Sam traced her eyes to the cane …”It’s made of Titanium, and it is strong, stronger than my bones to lean upon!”
Bernadette noticed the fingers holding the cane…they were firm yet soft just
like she had felt while shaking his hand; and she also observed that his left
ring finger, did have gold around it at its base… must have had it circling his
ring finger for quite some time, as the metal looked a little dull and worn..
`She started thinking again about his name… what could be such a complicated Name !
Sam called her out of her reverie, “ Bernadette”; the name sounded familiar for
her and she responded in haste, “Yes Sam, sorry I was looking at your walking
cane and your ring finger; so you are married”

1
A spurt on the noise level with visible noise of people moving suddenly on the platform, didn’t allow the conversation or chat, whatever one may call it to continue. Both Sam and Bernadette looked up at the rush and din and the rolling across of the wheelbarrows, when the loudspeaker announced the arrival of the train. One is naturally inclined to believe that there is a special school for training voice modulation and pronunciation of English words for the announcers in the Railways, in the most un-English way, if one can use that term! Anyway, Sam and Bernadette understood what was going on and looked at each other.
“Which one is your coach Sam?”
“Its C1”.
Indian Railways is one of the oldest in the world, second to the British perhaps. But one has the special privilege and opportunity for spectacular scenes as this, only in India Perhaps!

It is inconceivable that any human ear drum will have the ability to respond in any other way than it does at times of getting into a train in a busy Indian Railway Station. One hears people talk, like shredded pieces of newspaper now flying in the air and now in a drain! And so Bernadette had to go very close to Sam’s ear to ask him about his coach; and Sam did the same with her ear to say it was C1.
One would be amused to travel around in Indian Trains especially when one looks at caution notices put up by the Indian Railways. One such caution is the following.






2
In 1909, while the Railways was still in its “crawling” stage, there were no built-in toilets in the trains; poor Okhil Ch.Sen, forwarded a letter to the then Sahibganj Div.off., which has been displayed in the National Railway Museum NewDelhi. From then on toilets came into the passenger coaches!
The train rattled the platform floor and whistled past them initially and then slowed down to a halt. “Wait”, she told him and ran into the crowd to look for his coach and found it to be very near to where they were standing.C1 by chance of a Butterfly effect, may be, was adjacent to Bernadette’s coach. Bernadette, gave her tiny helping hands to get Sam into his coach. “ Thanks, Thanks Bernadette” Sam said in a kind tone.
“My name is not Bernadette”, she said and disappeared into the next coach, before he could make out the mysterious meaning of those words!
Before we move further on in this journey with Sam and the young lady known as Bernadette, you need to know who I am.
It will be next to impossible to believe what I am going to say about me. One would dismiss this as a figment of imagination. But it is not.
Some of you here will bring to your mind memories of me and wonder at what I am talking about.
All of us will leave imprints in the memory of every one known; memories fade when more recent and more important events occupy the slots but when such imprints are deep enough and can be provoking enough, we become immortal in a way. Be it friends, lovers, parents, siblings, teacher, writer, scientist who ever we are.
Einstein for example is an immortal figure. So is Rabindranath Tagore.
What has that to do with me here telling you this story? This story becomes a
reality with me giving shape to it, from my memory! It may be something of a
dream, which had indelibly left its mark inside me. And how can just a dream
be a source for such a story? A dream can be a source, is an emphatic answer.
For many people, dreams have been a source of inspiration- for Mathematical
Theorems, for problems in the Physical laws of the universe, for Poetry, and
for Spiritual awakenings etc…and so to me this story.
And what are dreams? A simple answer for a simple question:
While we are asleep the external world loses the significance- neither it can
control, nor we can control it , to suit the purpose of the respective entities;
and so sleep is defined as a form of death where we are an inert substance to
the real world. But we are alive and also free, freer than when we are awake.. .
we are not subject to the laws of Time, Space, and the laws of Man and Laws of
God! Anything goes! We become our “True Selves”. We create! I create!

Sam was stunned as he made his way to his window seat, with a few ”Sorry”, holding his cane and the guitar case, his suitcase rolling with manoeuvres one employs on Indian roads.
He was in awe. His mind gave form to his thoughts in the language he learnt from Infant Class! Yes, Infant Class.
The School he started attending was primarily a French Seminary built up in 1844 by the , Missions Étrangères de Paris, popularly called the MEP fathers, later to be expanded into a Matriculation School in 1932-34 if I am correct. Later, when the British ran over this town, they introduced English, which was adopted as the medium of instruction from the primary class.
Sam thought in English, dreamt in English! Though French was available as a language, his father who hailed from a Hindu family belonging to a southern province and settled for a job with an Anglo-French company in the French town, preferred Sam to learn English, and also forego a French Nationality.
And how is it that a man of a Hindu family, has “Sam” as his name?
Sam is a shortened form of address for Narayanaswamy Sharma!- quite a picturesque name, which is one of the names of the Lord Vishnu of the Hindu religion.
Sam was preoccupied with …why would a person introduce oneself in a particular name and in a matter of an hour or so, make him wonder what her real name could be !
For Sam, ordinarily, this should not matter, as he had nothing to gain from knowing that girl; but some unknown, indescribable feeling was gnawing at his heart’s door.
Sam had grown grey with the years of life and God had permitted quite graciously and liberally to let his hair fall with no count! Obviously he was left with a nominal tuft at the back and sides, which he carefully groomed and trimmed every time the need arose.

To compensate the absent crowning glory, he continued sporting a beard which he started growing while he was doing his Major in Psychology in his undergraduate studies. He had met Sigmund Freud in his dreams, imagined that, he walked with him on the roads in Vienna, and wanted to be a Freudian himself at least in his countenance and so the beard which he carelessly let encroach the adjoining areas of his face.
Sam had a characteristic nose almost like a parrot’s beak, yet not as sharp, but which slid down smoothly, and arched back like the handle of an umbrella. His eyes were deep set, powerful, with prominent forehead bones dipping into the eye sockets. The eyebrows were scanty , yet seen. He had his ancestral ears, the lobes of which would not allow any sound pass beyond, without their permission.
With all these landscapes forming an unattractive face, he still possessed a charm, which never went unnoticed by the eyes of some.
Earlier when a biker could not differentiate between the walkway and the road, Sam sustained an injury to his right leg, which resulted in a walking stick being his companion. The biker was providing enough to meet the expenses of Titanium inside his body and Titanium in his walking stick as well.

“There’s Bella”, both Aashmeen and Kaira let a loud sigh of relief as Bella entered the train, to join her friends, she was to be travelling with.
“How can you do this? “ Kaira voiced her concern.
“What did I do?” Bella was angry.
“ You said you wanted to read your book in peace and moved away from us on the platform, but we saw you talking to an old man as if you had forgotten we existed”
“ Oh, come on guys, I was reading, no doubt” said Bella and arranged her baggage in place and sat beside Kaira.
Kaira and Aashmeen looked at Bella, waiting for her to complete her story.
“Sam, needed help. More than that, he looked so simple and gentle and different”
“Bella, Bellaaa….”stretched Kaira, her voice, her name, in an unbelieving tone.
“Are you going to be friends with him, stupid old gentleman? And you know his name and his ancestry so soon. You have given all your identity to him?”…Kaira’s voice expressed anger and disappointment at her friend’s unpredictable nature.
Bella smiled.
It was Aashmeen’s turn.. .”What are you smiling for? You mean you have told that..that…Sam…Jam..whatever it is, your name and all your history?”
Bella smiled again and took their hands in hers and said in a hush tone,” I told him that my name was Bernadette when I introduced myself to him, but felt bad later that I didn’t tell him my real name and just as I was leaving his coach, told him that my name wasn’t Bernadette. I didn’t look at his face . Poor Sam”.
“Bella, that’s enough…We have a long way to go…at least you have to be on a long journey alone, while our boyfriends will join us…you have to be careful not to be friendly with older guys. It’s ok if you didn’t trust others; but to be friendly with that stupid old man is not ok with us” opined Kaira.
“What’s wrong to be friendly Kaira?” I may just talk with him, exchange views. We live in a world, which believes in tradition and conservatism still? How do you think that, women can be free without freeing oneself from these kinda stupid shackles?” asked Bella.
And before she could continue further, Aashmeen came in…” So you think you are going to be friendly with him?”
“Yes” emphasized Bella’s voice, continuing to say ”There’s nothing wrong, nothing to lose. After all it’s just a friendship.”

Sam had come a long way; he did not lack the resources to equip himself with the needs of everyday; but, suffice it to say that part of his journey had been quite turbulent experimenting with the truths of everyman! He gave himself a name “Phoenix”, to signify the times he had come unscathed from being just ash and junk. One of his High school Geography master once remarked in a conversation with him, many years later, that considering the reckless journey he witnessed him undertake in his adolescent and early adult life, he did not expect Sam to be of any use in his life. But Sam proved many people wrong time and again by sheer integrity which he showed at times of complete collapse. Sam remembered about an incident in his early graduate days, when a Faculty in Biochemistry looked at him with a sneer and mockery and told him that if he could write an essay on “If the Eskimos played Soccer” would be better than knowing anything on “Free Energy”.
Little did the dwarfed brain of the Faculty know that there was a spectacular history of soccer played by native Eskimos of Alaska and our Sam did not only write an essay , but a Thesis on that subject and got his PhD after joining a graduate program in Sports. He wrote in his preamble“ A game which was the precursor to the present day Soccer was being played for more than 3000 years in many countries; about the year 1600 or so a game called Aqsaqtuk which literally meant “soccer on Ice” was being played by the Alaskan and Canadian Eskimos, on Ice using a ball stuffed with hide, moss, grass and other substances to give it firmness, by two sides comprising various number of participants. An interesting legend of the tribes has that, The Northern Light-The Aurora Borealis considered as the arrival of the Spirits of the dead and a game of football game played by them with the skull of a walrus.”
Sam left his Graduate studies in Biochemistry and soon was seen coaching Soccer, one of the sons of the Faculty, who thought nothing of Sam!
Such was the “ Phoenix” and determination in him that he had embarked on a journey which many would later object and find him to be a recluse!

Bella was a person, not easily understood; neither her parents nor her friends knew her. She didn’t have or didn’t allow herself to have any close friends. She wasn’t schizoid by any measure, but preferred to remain free in her world undisturbed by prying habits of friends, which invariably happened in many friendship circles. This is not a female only phenomenon, while in fact the male priers were more common than the females. A statistical analysis available pointed out that men were more gossipy in nature than women. But Bella who thought that her friends were more beautiful than she was, didn’t like to associate with them. But Bella also was a confused person. Her attitude and perception towards such and other phenomena and people were not the same always. In fact she hated to study; but didn’t hate to read. She wanted knowledge and derided people with pseudo-wisdom! She did not like any strict order in life, yet she was looking out for the same elsewhere. She associated with people elder to her than with her peer group. She found her peer group, lacking substance. She felt that most of them were, run- of- the- mill robots, whose interests were centred on falling in love, getting married and its paraphernalia- the Giant Wheel of a life- story. She was not interested in such a life, which was inert; but later in her life, when her couple of colleagues would be married and would have a family, she would be going through a phase of depression for a while. Yes she was a person of the opposites; negated trivial desires, yet desires sometime haunted her being and gave way to such petit desires, as to go on a buying spree!
She never wanted to graduate in Sports Medicine, but as destiny would have it, she was forced into it, because her father, who once was a pugilist and had won some awards, had a dream that his daughter would one day find a solution for his spinal problem earned during his fights.
The train started moving and soon it was past that platform from which all of them boarded it. The initial noise of the rush and seating having given way to the drone of the train’s typical lullaby, most of the passengers were swaying to that music, shoulder to shoulder or head to the shoulder as the case may be.
Sam was alert in his thoughts; even his seasoned mind did not rest. His head was occupied by a growing question, as if it was an anthill behind his eyes, which was gaining its dimension in all directions. He chided himself for his uncontrolled thought process. But that didn’t help. He thought that he would just watch the earth and the sky gradually get darker with the Sun setting on the other side of his window seat. It was a perfect evening with clouds gathering as if grey cotton wool spread its fine fibrous strands across slowly forming a canopy and cooler breeze, trespassed the train’s open windows, in the sleeper classes!
Sam travelled back in time…he was Narayanaswamy; Shiva just then had entered the room and hung his white Apron on the back rest of his chair, drew out his socks, tucked them inside his shoes and pushed the shoes under his cot; Shiva was a graduate student of Medicine and was sharing the same room with Narayanaswamy. Shiva dropped himself limp on his cot and looked at his
roommate. It was obvious that Narayanaswamy did not go to the university that afternoon. Shiva found him in deep sleep, not disturbed by his presence. The Janitor, came in with his cleaning equipment, quietly did his job and disappeared out on the corridor. Shiva rested for a while and silently closing the door behind him, went ahead to the washroom. It must have been a good 30 minutes before he silently stepped in back to the room after his shower.
Narayanaswamy stirred, opened his eyes, and addressed Shiva,” Is the water still warm Shiva? I need a wash.”
Shiva looked at him in surprise…”This man was asleep, lost to this world, when I left the room; his eyes were closed and he was turned towards the wall near his cot; I was careful not to make any noise; how did he know that I was here, and went to have my shower”- fleeting thoughts- before he responded… “It’s about ten minutes since I washed. I don’t think that the water will be warm”.
“Ok”… let me move.. got some job to do…will have a quick wash and come…what’s your evening fixed for?”
“Nothin…special”, said Shiva, continuing, “I am walking up to the Library and then have to think about supper…may be I will make soufflé with cheese and have some butter laced bread toasted…and then some coffee… would you like to share?”
Narayanaswamy’s ears sent instant message to his vegan brain and he looked up at Shiva and said” it’s..it’s ok Shiva, you go ahead. I have some soup and some boiled potatoes; will top it with lemon and salt and a little olive oil,for supper.will go now for my wash. See you later”.
Shiva smiled and said, ”one day you’ll be different”, and walked away briskly, not waiting for the vegan roommate’s impulsive response.
When Narayanaswamy emerged out of the washroom, he felt a cool breeze across his face, bare chest and abdomen and looked up at the sky turning grey and dark at 5’o clock in the afternoon. It was pleasant. He imagined a soufflé …
Narayanaswamy’s father who was with an Anglo-French company was an independent Hindu like his brothers, though was born, in an India, stifled by the occupying British and the orthodox Hindu customs of his heritage. He had gotten rid of the traditional hairdo of the let- grow -long hair as did his brothers and gathered it into a bun at the back, while a small portion of front was shaved in a crescent. One of his elder brothers left the country earlier for greener pastures as a departure from the norm. He was lucky enough, not to be involved in any emotional tangle with the only younger sister of theirs who spent almost all her life in acquiring property of the brothers by her hysterical behaviour and undaunted drive in that direction. She got what she wanted, but fate had different news for her and the curse of Cancer won the battle.
It’s not a digression to tell of how a man born in a Hindu family of those times, didn’t show very strict adherence to the practices. Believing in the precepts of balanced nutrition, he had made allowances for his children to add the least of a non-vegetarian food, “Fowl’s eggs”, in their diet. A separate kerosene stove and separate vessel to boil the eggs and appropriate cutlery and serving plates were used. Pepper and salt appeared on the neatly cut surface of the eggs which had characteristic orange yellow yolk, rimmed by the spectacular white, a sight one rarely ever sees today, with the White leghorn eggs, exposing the anaemic yolk in the centre! But this allowance didn’t last longer than for a couple of times, as Narayanaswamy’s father found it difficult to express his freedom to extend beyond those two instances. The memory of those couple of instances in the early life of Narayanaswamy, identified the “soufflé “of Shiva very intensely and instantly!
”one day you’ll be different”, uttered by Shiva would not be far away in Narayanaswamy’s life.
Sam smiled unto himself as those scenes with the cool breeze across the window and the darkening sky played with his memories of associations; he felt sad also as thoughts about his father and his siblings invariably included the dimly remembered struggle his aunt suffered with Cancer.
Sam was aware that the psyche of an individual is a complex mass of experiences from early childhood or may be even before. Matters which others in the family would have had never observed, or feigned to have never known, may in the years to come be at some point of time or other, make a dramatic appearance in a family member’s behaviour.
Sam went back to his thoughts about that particular afternoon incident many years before; while Shiva was wondering, how Sam was aware of his surrounding, yet appeared deeply asleep, Sam too wondered, but never told Shiva, what really happened that afternoon.
Sam was afloat on the ceiling, as if invisible strings suspended him, like the latter day Spiderman’s web, and watched his own self on the cot, sleeping, Shiva entering, pulling off his socks, pushing them into his shoes, an unhygienic and deplorable habit practiced by many males. He saw the janitor with his cleaning equipment entering and leaving the room…Sam was afloat till he turned around and asked Shiva if the water was still warm!
Sam was brought to the present, by another train passing by, which made a fierce noise tearing through the landscape and air; he glanced back inside the coach cabin he was in. He made sure with his eyes that his suitcase was safe in its place.
There were plenty of past incidents to reminisce upon in later times of his life.
Thirty five years before…He was in a train with his wife by his side. The train seemed to be in no hurry, moving like a sedated millipede. It was past midnight when the train had pulled in on a wayside station. It felt as if the train had been abandoned on its way. Sam saw two men enter the coach in which they were seated, and one was smoking a cigarette. He looked tall and menacing and had an intimidating face. Neither of the men carried any luggage, but Sam noticed that the shorter stocky man had clutched a dark empty cloth bag in his wristy hand. Sam’s wife was dozing off, her head resting on Sam’s right shoulder.
Sam felt the jolt of the train moving and opened his eyes; the places occupied by the tall and short men were now occupied by a man and a lady with a child.
Something made Sam get up and open his briefcase kept above on the overhead luggage carrier. The briefcase lock was no more holding. His doubts were confirmed and he looked at his wife who had an inquiring face. “I think that the guys, who were sitting here, have removed a few things from the briefcase”. The train was just moving with hiccups from the station it was in for an eternity. Sam bent down, and looked through the window and spotted the two men in question, talking animatedly with a Railway Protection Force sergeant. The dark bag was with the taller man, and was not empty anymore! Sam knew that he had to give up lamenting over the loss, that the train was moving and the men had contacts that would make his attempts go futile.
“Samy,” as Rhoda his wife addressed Sam, “its ok…. We can make up for it. Both of us just slipped into a nap. How did you know that we gave a gift for somebody?”, asked Rhoda trying to make Sam feel better. Sam was amused too and sat by her side. The train started moving faster than before….and Sam lit a cigarette standing near the door!
On a particular day, years after that, Sam suddenly quit smoking. His habits dropped off like autumn leaves, one by one. And no one, knowing him, ever offered even a bottle of wine for “Happy” occasions. Sam had been clean for more years than he indulged in.
Sam was smiling, thinking about the incidents; but his lips quickly straightened out, thinking about Rhoda and his married life. He moved his fingers over the gold and the silver rings …
The reverie was interrupted and Sam looked out at the dark sky out to know why the train was slowing down; soon the darkness was partly erased by the lights from a railway station platform. He peeped out through the window and the faint noise from the train engine far away at the other end of the train, was announcing a stoppage. The cool breeze was a refreshing factor on his face and he didn’t fail to notice the face of Bella from the next coach in the emerging light! She could not see his face initially as he was facing away from the lights. But soon as the lights fell on his face, she saw him; she wondered what was that longer version of the name Sam, why was he travelling alone, where was he heading to, does he have children, what would his wife look like, what was his profession.. endless questions rolled across the spool of thoughts.
Sam later would tell her his complete name. He would also tell her that the abbreviated name became part of his Baptismal name when he got converted to the Christian religion. O yes, he was “Born Again” twice!.
When he was a youth, in a special religious ceremony, he wore a tri- filamentary thread looping from the left shoulder down to the right hip. It was symbolic of being born in sprit, and initiated the “Student-Guru” life. When he got baptised into the Christian religion, he was “Born Again” in Spirit a second time …
Sam went on wondering about this double sanctification and never found an answer-one Spirit, twice to come on. Religions would not any way philosophically or practically merge into the true nature of man! They always emphasized in relating to their own tenets, practices, and observances as if the sanctifying Spirit is of different kind! The individual was one and the same though.
He would tell Bella also the story of the rings; that he met Rhoda as an undergraduate in Biomedical Sciences when he was an Intern in Sports and Entertainment science. Those were times when Sam was still nursing the self-inflicted wounds of a separation. That affair was his first, and it seemed to be going nowhere. He quit, just snapped. He would never ever know the pain he inflicted on that girl. Would that anguish and love that was not extinguished remain silent? Would it not have its effect on Sam? Sam would know, and perhaps Bella.
The vendors selling refreshments, had trained their voice in such a way that one travelling anywhere in the country recognised a common pitch, note, rhythm and rhyme. Bella didn’t know these sounds as much as Sam did; Sam slowly descended down on to the platform, knowing well that there was enough time for the train to move. He had the help of his cane only now.
He approached the nearby kiosk, got two cups of steaming coffee and walked up to the next coach. Bella saw him approaching. She had not told him that she had companions. She was aware that he was bringing the coffee for her. Kaira and Aashmeen were ready to get down too, and were waiting for Bella to rise. Bella’s eyes were stuck outside watching the elegant old gentleman walking with the cups of coffee, held safely not to spill, while the cane hung on his right shoulder.
“Bella…..O.. Bella”, Aashmeen, and Kaira were in a chorus trying to pull Bella from the window, and noticed what was keeping her eyes and ears glued.
Sam reached the window, where Bella was seated by. He didn’t hear them calling her.
“Hi, care for some hot cof….” He was interrupted by Bella’s voice…” Hi Sam, Thanks.. but…yeah.. ok..” as she half turned to her friends looking at her with amusement in their face and mind. “So you have somebody to get you your coffee and be your guardian” Kaira quipped and sent a glance towards Sam; Aashmeen joined Kaira in that mocking look and accompanied her towards the same kiosk for their coffee. Sam was in a different world. He saw how this world can change in a moment’s time; he knew then, that the girl who called herself Bernadette for a fleeting time, was not travelling alone, as it seemed earlier; he would not have brought that coffee for Bella; or he would have brought two more! “Sorry Sam, they study with me. I didn’t tell you that they’re travelling along.” “Its ok…Berna…sorry….how do I call you? staggered Sam’s voice. “Will tell you later…” said the mysterious Bella and drew her cup of coffee from his hand. The train whistle went on and there was a rush again of people to their seats. Sam wasn’t in a hurry, and told Bella, “See later.” and walked leisurely with his stick towards his coach and helped himself into it and disappeared from her sight.
Aashmeen and Kaira were giggling as they entered the coach and sat. Bella didn’t want to look at them. She was aware what was going on inside their juvenile head! “So the silly old gentleman brought coffee for his Cinderella ehn?”
“Shut up” retorted Bella. She turned away from them and shut the window glass shutter.
This AC coach was an older version where one could lift the window shutter. The later day coaches came with sealed window glass panes, which made life difficult for people who travelled alone and who can’t leave their belongings in the coach and get down for refreshment on a platform.
This arrangement suited too the last minute handshakes and bye byes and perhaps the looks that could convey meanings beyond words.
Bella plugged her ears with her favourite music, and visibly annoyed her friends, who wanted to have more fun at her expense. She closed her eyes.
She did not want anything or anyone to disturb her. She stretched herself on her berth and slowly submerged into a world of dreams…
She was in a castle…men, strange and menacing in argument and scuffle…feeling of anger against her in their face... the castle, the staircase and the streets were decorated with lights… she wanted to slowly walk across and move without their knowledge…but the lights, all of them went aflame…the streets were in fire… she ran... ran swiftly across… ran to get away…escape….and then she saw him, he looked friendly, he came towards her, held her hand and helped her cross the burning streets in flames… they ran together…everyone was running… there was chaos and confusion and in that confusion she lost him… she couldn’t see him anywhere around… she continued running alone… her mind was constantly telling her that he was out there somewhere, looking for her, to be for her… and there were men, scary men waiting to harm her… her mind was with her family in the castle… she was worried about them of what harm would have affected them …she was scared to think… and then he appeared again from among the confusing crowd… and then she observed that both of them were then in white clothing…they ran together again…ran long winding ways…difficult ways… then both of them were in front of a spherical stone like door, like a globe… they hesitated for a while to approach the door…but the danger of getting attacked by the people following them was imminent…there was no other place to escape…they touched the stone door…and instantly it revolved around and both of them entered in…. but those who were after them could not enter, but fell into a bottomless pit…and then there was relief… a relief inside a whole new world … timeless…? No…time seemed to be like a moon walk…something which was very strange , yet induced a fear in her…and then there was another door, which had sculpted images of Krishna and Radha… a feeling arose in them that they should be like Krishna and Radha… in their their future …and then another door in front of them with the figures of Shiva and Parvati; there was another door with the Hindu Mantra “Aum”,inscribed on it…a sudden anxiety again overtook her…Bella was worried about her parents… time was slow…she perceived… “will I reach home, the castle…would my parents be the same… wouldn’t they be very old, considering that time was very slow on her side of the world, while both of them would be younger still, and wouldn’t it be many years gone by when they reached home?” she wondered and worried…..
Bella opened her eyes in perplexity, awe and confusion.
The rest of the world had been moving with the speed of the train. She smelt food. She felt hungry. And the train was about to halt at a station for the supper time. DAY ONE NIGHT
Bella’s friends were up and were moving towards the exit, casting a meaningful glance at Bella. Bella understood. She pulled up the glass shutter to look for the familiar figure. She spotted him waving to her. She rose up from her seat and walked towards the exit. She knew that she would meet Sam and planned to have her supper with him in the Catering unit on the platform.
The train came to a halt. Bella got down and went over to Sam’s coach.
Sam succeeded in making his way through to the exit and peeped out. She was there, whose name he was yet to know!
She gave him a hand and they walked, towards the Catering House. It was a vegetarian eatery. They sat.
“Can I ask you a question” Sam opened the conversation.
“I know what you’re gonna ask me. Ok. Here is a small clue to my name.” she said with a broad smile on her small face!
Sam smiled, “ok, at last I can call you by a name and write it down in my address book.. Carry on. give me the clue” he said.
“My name should remind you of a word for “intelligent… or beautiful”…in some European languages”… Although Sam didn’t learn French while being in the School, he did go through the basic lessons while he was pursuing his Psychology Major. He thought of a word…but restrained his urge to spell it out… “Give me one more clue please” he urged, “Tell me if the last letter is E or A. “Mmmm…that’s getting close” she thought, yet didn’t want to keep the suspense long, lest it would be losing all the flavour and so she said “Ok, it ends with an A, tell me now…fast” “Shall I order some dinner now Bella” he asked with a smile, and twinkle in his eyes.
Right then Bella wanted to tell Sam of her dream; but it would be taking off the time to have the supper and the train would move. She held his hands; wanted to kiss them; after a meaningful hold, she released her fingers as the waiter came to their table.
When they had finished, their vegetarian dinner, Bella asked Sam, “Don’t they have Non-Vegetarian Restaurants, in these stations?” “Yes, Bella…(that name was sounding good, he thought), they do have; but I was selfish; I am a vegetarian. I am sorry” said Sam… “O, Ok…you don’t have to be sorry; its alright…You are a strict vegetarian?” she asked. Sam replied “Not really Bella, I have eggs a couple of times in a week….and Milk if it is considered as belonging to the Non-vegetarian group, yes I have it in my coffee”…
“Sam, do we have time to talk about your name?” smiled Bella, “now that you know my name”.
They didn’t have the time. The bell rang for the departure of the train. They rushed back in a hurry as there was a drizzle getting heavier, Sam going up to Bella’s coach. “Good night Bella, Take care” said Sam and started to walk towards his coach with his cane. “Good night Sam” Bella wished.
Back at her seat, Bella drew the glass shutter down in a hurry…her friends had been to another restaurant and were back before Bella in their seats; their faces were buried in their books, they had brought with them-books on Functional Anatomy and Physiology of the Human Body.
Bella glanced at them and went back to her music…it was time that she slept for a while. She did not believe in straining her eyes in the dim light of the coach to learn those subjects. She slowly went to sleep, listening to “Bella’s Lullaby” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h00UH7vZI20
She slept well. Had no dreams, to recollect... She got up from her berth with the urgent want to know about Sam. And Sam wanted to know about Bella.
Recovering from a painful separation from Rhoda, it seemed that Sam was being cooked up in the same oven as he was at the time of his first affair getting truncated suddenly, and in both instances, Sam had been the bad boy. Sam traced the rings in his fingers, rolled his fingers over them for quite a while before sliding them silently from his stocky finger, and letting them disappear into the din of the train traversing the broad river under the bridge. Was it painful? He knew. He would share that emotion in secrecy with Bella. And what was the emergency to be rid of the rings. Was it because Bella asked him about his marriage? And if so why should Bella be responsible for his act in an urgency? Was Sam being impulsive? Bella would ask him these questions. Though there would be lasting reminders, the fact was that Sam was carrying on his body the last reminders of an association created in the presence of people and their God. He had created a home, a family of religious values. Everyone around him believed without any doubt about his Catholic spirit. Only he knew the truth… that it was all long gone…Sam at some point of time did regret his conversion saga.
Sam was young. At school his Seminarian teachers and the beautiful Chapel drew him close to Christ. The absence of formal enculturation into the Hindu religion and the tender mind prone for bending to suggestions, however innocuous they were to uproot any belief system, led the then Narayanaswamy to enter the school chapel as often as it was possible during the hours of recess. There was silence, or a faint murmur of a prayer by a group of students; there was an ever emanating pleasant aroma from the barely visible smoke at the far end , at the sides of the altar. The dimly lit altar and the Christ on the Cross, whose face was lit by a special focussing lamp, drew his heart dearly day by day and he learnt the prayers by heart.
Narayanaswamy’s roommate Shiva, had many friends from his medical fraternity. Some would barge into the room to loud chat with him, unmindful of the presence of Swamy ; and it happened so that Shiva whispered into the loose ears of one of those chat friends, that Narayanaswamy had become Samuel Parker after a recent conversion ceremony. What was being nurtured in his heart was hidden from his parents till one day that chat friend, known to Swamy’s mother, through his mother, conveyed the Good News to her and it was dutifully and in obligation let be known to her husband.
That was a very traumatic news for Swamy’s father. He suffered a stroke the same day and was paralysed on a side and lost the ability to talk. And of course he had not met Rhoda yet, for that would have added insult to injury. Sam’s father lived till Sam became an intern in the Sports and Entertainment department. Was Sam waiting for his father to pass away, so that he could be spared the pain of hearing that his beloved son had married a Christian! And what of his mother? Was he not doing the same harm to her? Yes he did.
DAY TWO MORNING How wonderfully the blanket of darkness gets rolled on one side and gets unrolled on the other side of the globe?… It did get so that early morning, as the train was moving a little slower across the hills, uncovering the haze, the greyish green silhouette of tall trees, with streaks of golden sun piercing through the valley, playing beautiful shadow and light drama; Bella was imbibing that moment and breathed the air, letting it through a small slice of opening in the window shutter she had drawn up. Sam stood swaying at the entrance as the train gently moved like a cradle ; he remembered how a tackle was done in soccer, keeping the ball still on the ground, but moving the torso and legs to trick the opponent! Life was akin to a football game he thought except that the choices given in football were absent in life’s processes.
One was given a chance to choose a particular side on the ground, and start the kick by a toss. No such choice existed in birth. One becomes from being born. The process of becoming is shaped by the training and challenges as in football. There was a referee to oversee quite tangibly in football with linesmen to call an offside and out of the line ball. Who was there overseeing the fair and foul play of life? Humankind wanted someone to look after that work, one or many as the game suggested! Humankind wanted set rules and regulations as in the game. Tribal cultures evolved into organized religion he thought. And so as in the games, and the administration of clubs, fierce competition and corruption swept in such religious outfits. Each one had an insignia. And each would fight wars to gain supremacy!
Bella remembered everything she saw in her dream on the night, before she had the vegetarian meal with Sam; she would some days later relate this dream to Sam. And Sam in his analytical understanding would try to find relationship to her bodily functions and or events of days with that dream and ask her pertinent questions, donning the mantle of a Psychoanalyst. Poor Sam, would be relegated to his appropriate place by Bella with her curt replies. Though she hated him analysing her dream, she didn’t hate him! She started loving him; yes, as a woman would a man!
She found special meanings to her dreams, which was unimaginable to Sam’s mind trained by philosophy of Jean Paul Sartre and the like. He had read more of Vladimir Nabokov and Alexander Solzhenitsyn, than eastern writers. Or was he swayed by different philosophies at different times? He remembered that he was immersed in knowing about the Indian Mystics; that he very ardently followed the talks of J Krishnamurti; he had Buddhist friends; he remembered “Lolita” which he read in secret from the prying eyes of Rhoda, who was a puritan. He was a piece of everything!
Bella was an institution by herself. Only those who had a chance , which was exceptional, to know how she thought, what she thought and why she thought so, would ever know the depth of her knowledge, other than Sports Medicine, which she didn’t bother to be inspired by.
It was obvious that the train had come to a long halt at a Junction. Sam got down with his usual care. It was chill outside with a little drizzle that made him feel young again. Sam slowly walked up to the nearby Kiosk and got four cups of coffee and looked up at the window where Bella was seen earlier. There was expectation, surprise and anger in Bella’s face as she noticed Sam’s free hand holding a fancy paper tray holding four cups of steaming something!
“Hi, Gd Morning…thought of your friends too…its beautiful out here… why not just jump over… we can walk a little… loosen a little…the train will not move from here for an hour or so…” Sam slanted his head and blinked his eyes in asking her affirmation, while handing over the coffee to her.
Bella’s face had a magical change in its angry contour to one of a pleasant smile, as she looked at his gesture, which was very pleasing and inviting; she observed something more than what she thought was behind that face and the being. She extended her hand, took two cups and into the waiting hands of her friends who had mischievous smile in their faces, handed them over.
She joined Sam, and looked at the fancy paper tray carrying the two cups of still steaming coffee, whose aroma was refreshing as ever to the two coffee lovers. Sam liked it black as Bella too. They walked. He held her fingers lightly; there was no withdrawing of the fingers. They walked silently till they reached a bench. They sipped their coffee after a token toast. Sam noticed a bin nearby, collected her empty cup and deposited both their cups safely inside the bin along with the tray a little hesitantly; the tray looked really cute. He turned around and saw that Bella was observing him keenly. He sat beside her again. “ Sam, where are you going….what is your journey about.…and what happened to the rings in your finger?” Bella sounded inquisitive and concerning.
Sam was right that Bella was a keen observer and the time had come to talk to her. He didn’t have to give her reasons, explain all about himself and expose his life and all its meanderings to her to the point of absolute emptying his self, his soul.. But he did. He did it slowly…because he started believing that Bella played a more important role in his life than just a traveller along.
“Are you Ok Sam… you are silent… I am sorry if I have trespassed into your person…” Bella was troubled.
“Hey No Bella, I’m ok… In fact I was just preparing to lay before you , unfurl all that has been myself, coiled in, and waiting to be opened up… let out and then I would be free…” Sam with interrupted breath answered Bella.
“Free!...Free of what, from where, from whom? I knew that you were not alright, especially when I noticed that you had gotten rid of something which was with you for over 25 years and more…within a few hours of or a day, perhaps, of asking you, whether you were married?” Bella seemed restless.
Sam saw that Bella’s questions came in an array, and not singly, and he hurried to say, “Well, let me start somewhere…will tell all…I want to; though it seems ridiculous, completely insane, to talk about me to a total stranger, of whom I know almost nothing” (and who changed her identity in half an hours’ time…because she wanted to be true to me, he recalled within his mind)…
The truth was, very few in her circles ever knew her real name. And she saw it wise and indeed pertinent to be frank with Sam for some strange reason from the time she saw him.
Sam’s mind was occupied at that instant with a comparison between casting off the threads that were across his chest and sliding the rings off his finger. Both were of religious importance, signs of sacramental obligation.
The former sacrament was one of drawing the self to God, and the latter the drawing of two selves together in faith, in the God of their belief.
Sam had with or without knowing the significance of his acts of commission and omission, had been an integral part of breaking the relationship with God and another human. On the other hand one of Shiva’s friends, a Pentecostal Christian, was glorifying the Holy Spirit, when he heard that Swamy had become Samuel Parker and ignored any significance to the pagan threads discarded by Swamy. Perhaps there was no significance in either, surmised Shiva, when the group of hot chatters got together to “threadbare” discuss Swamy casting the thread and taking up a new name.
The problem perhaps did not necessarily lie with his conversion, but the aftermath of that, which tore through the fabric of his family. Sam’s father became bed ridden with stroke; he lost the ability to speak; his mother became an emotional wreck. His brothers and sisters became distant and strange blood relatives to the extent that he was considered as a “Pariah” and a local Temple administrator, refused admission for him to a park adjoining a temple! So much for the “Hindu Chauvinism”, thought Sam! Later, the passing away of his father left Sam inconsolable.
“Sam….Sam.. are you there” the voice of Bella came from a deep well.
Sam started to speak….
“it’s not an unusual journey, Bella. Yet it has its peculiarities.
I am now, sort of, separated from my wife. It is an unusual separation. I have left a note.”
“You just left a note and you are on your way? OMG..I just can’t believe it.” Her voice, her face and her body language spoke of the utter awe she felt.
“I have taken with me nothing” continued Sam, not minding her queries, “that belonged commonly to us, or anything that belongs to her. In fact, I have left most of what belonged to me; I travel now as you see with my guitar, a small suitcase with my clothes, and my cane. Yes..a little money for the journey, journey here and journey to come in life! May be I wouldn’t need any; it depends on what happens to my mission; the mission of finding myself!
“So you are on a physical and spiritual journey; but why did you have to leave your wife for finding your “Self”….Don’t you have children?” Bella was a little furious. She thought, what if her father had to leave, like Sam had done.
“ I have made a web of relationships Bella; what a married male would and could have as a family, I have. I have grandchildren too. But it is so strange that the element of belonging to the web nodes had been very loose right from the beginning. Do you understand what I mean?”
“Of course I do…then why did you have to get married at all? It is so illogical. I can’t understand.” Bella was still angry, angry with a man whom she had fallen in love with, within a few hours of not knowing him!
“Each man to his own journey. Some have the luxury ….”
Before he could complete his sentence and continue further,” So it’s a luxury for you to leave all the people at lurch and you go on a selfish journey…you are pathetic” Bella said and just got up and walked away to her coach.
Sam had the first lesson. In fact some words which Bella used were buried inside his head. These were words which the guys used while at the university, when they were in an ordinary or heated conversation… it didn’t matter which. As he passed his milestones, beyond the university, he came to understand that many who were in a conversation or chat, had used such words as if they were something to mean the phrase” get lost”, to use a euphemism. Sam did not use this word, except a few times may be, while he was drunk! Drunk!? Yes… Sam was a connoisseur of sorts. He could differentiate by the stale smell that emanated from the “soma” of fellow students at the university, (which here meant the physical body of the persons and not “Soma” the sacred intoxicating drink supposed to have been used in some Vedic rituals) the type of alcohol they had during the party the previous night! That was because he went through a lengthy process of knowing, from the initiation ritual, which in a way it was, till he one day said to himself, “ enough.. that’s it..” and threw away all, that was not empty!
The initiation ritual was quite interesting. He was fresh at the university. He was young. There were bullies. A couple of days after he got a room in the undergraduate hostel facility, a fairly tall guy perhaps of 21 or 22 years, with curly dark hair and of fairer skin than Sam’s by a good degree, stood on the 3rd floor of the hostel, and called “Hey, you”. Sam having been the only person at that time on the ground inevitably looked up. “Come on up here… double up”.
Sam obeyed…He was in front of the tall young man in a minute… “ Hey, What’s your name”. Sam was hesitant, but said in a low tone “Narayanaswamy”.. Two guys were there in a room behind the tall man, who emerged listening to the conversation and blew out in a loud laughter of derision as Sam told his name. “ So Mr. Narayanasamy, what we need is some Holy water, not from the temple you ring the bell from, but from the town. Now go to the town, and there’s a street named after a French man, you may not know, but now they have renamed it as J N Street… walk up to the corner and then on that Bouleward you can see that there are more Wine and Brandy Bars than coffee shops. Get into one of them and ask for a Bottle of “Old Monk”. Pack it up well and be here soon. And here”, his voice was neither intimidating nor kind, “ take this and keep the change”. Sam was shrinking in shame. He knew this place more than that fellow human, but was ashamed to be reduced; He had no choice.
He walked to the road to get the transport; the road was carpeted by white aromatic flowers, from the trees lining on either sides of the road. He was careful not to step on the flowers and reached the bus stop.
There were transport vehicles, which looked bizarre. He had seen them. But he had never travelled in such a vehicle. He chose to then, because he had to hurry up. He got into the waiting vehicle. There were at least ten of the passengers inside cramped on two seats opposite each other; there were a couple of young women too, perhaps from the university. Sam didn’t look at faces. The vehicle made noise like a pump house and moved.

Sam got down at the guided place and walked, looking over the familiar Boulevard; but now it wore a strange look. He had failed to notice in his earlier part of life, that such places as Bars and Wine shops existed in such a typical fashion as described by the stranger. He walked up looking all around. Suddenly he realised that he was being called by his name, by someone from behind. His heart went racing as he looked behind. One of the men from the company where his father had worked, who used to visit his father, had his eyes fixed at Swamy and was walking towards him. Swamy knew him by name. Perhaps the name was the only common factor between the two. His name was Narayan. Swamy knew Mr.Narayan from his young age. Mr. Narayan would have been older to Swamy by about nine or ten years. Swamy didn’t like him and particularly hated him too perhaps from his childhood memories, having seen him do things with other boys of Swamy’s age. Indelible memories as those left lasting impressions on people. Sam’s education and social milieu later at the university changed his perception to a certain extent.
“Swamy, it is 8 pm, how come you are here at this time of the evening alone in the town? No one’s come with you?” inquired Narayan in the most concerned authoritative voice, as if he was his local guardian.
That was very insulting. Sam wasn’t so small a boy that he would be lost or kidnapped. But he was sure that this man would by the next mail inform his parents about his wandering in the town at an odd time alone. That had he to see him enter a Bar, he would be in huge trouble would be an understatement. Not because his father would have been angry with Swamy, but he would have sent a mail to the warden on this and matters would be causing a domino effect.
Sam had to resort to an extreme measure of not telling the truth. In the awaiting all ears of Narayan, Swamy packed a clump of lies. “My friends have come; we are all going to have dinner at the rooftop restaurant in JN street.’
Swamy was aware that there were no lifts for the two floor hotel building and Narayan was handicapped with a disability in his right leg caused by a Tuberculous infection when he was young which led to an infection of his leg bones..
Narayan’s face showed dismay at not getting any rumour to chew and spit.
“Ok, Swamy, eat and go back to your hostel. You see, we are the only people here for you” said Narayan and reluctantly moved ahead, reinforcing the guardian concept.
Swamy, just nodded his head in silence and walked in the opposite direction towards J N street without turning his head back.
Narayan, had to do his bit of investigation and hid himself by a Billboard kept for erection on the pavement, just outside a famous Bar and Restaurant. He could see Swamy slowly turning back with caution. He could not contain his chuckle. The Billboard hid him completely that, Swamy hesitantly entered the Bar, after making sure that Narayan was not found anywhere nearby.
Narayan wondered from behind the Billboard. He was tempted to peep and come from behind the hideout. But before he could step out Swamy walked away with some package in his hand very safely secured to his chest. Narayan didn’t want to pursue. He deduced by his own logic, that the guys are going to have a good time , out there at the roof top dinner!
Swamy walked briskly, never looking back or sideways, and entered into one of the three wheeler pump house vehicles!

Swamy’s heart was still racing. He looked up to see the other passengers. His new companion in the room allotted, Shiva in short for Shivaram, was there along with another young lad, who he had seen a couple of times with Shiva. They were seated opposite. Shiva wished Swamy and introduced the other lad to him as Krishna. To Swamy names of males and females was always a fascination. Many names have coursed through thousands of years of human history and civilization on earth and each settlement civilization, region, country, social conditions, religious beliefs, , and personal relationship with authorities have created names that either stood the test of time or disappeared traceless. There are names that run into many generations. Perhaps in a distant future, names would be replaced by some digital identity. Life would be more robotic than human. All the charms, of the flesh and blood of the human spirit would vanish surmised Swamy.
Swamy reached the hostel in about thirty minutes and was up on the third floor in a minute. The gang of three waiting for the Spirit looked very impatient. There was a noise of cheer and claps. He saw hungry wild cats. The young man who pressed Sam into this service had a sparkle in his eyes.
“ O gun time, what’s the name”…and Swamy repeated his name. It seemed that it was intentional, as they wanted to have fun at his behest.
“we will call you Samy” said the man, the cigarette between his lips sending whorls of smoke.

Swamy Liked that smell; it seemed that his brain had stored somewhere in its labyrinths the smell-memory of such a smoke and he had an urge suddenly welling up inside to buy himself some cigarettes. This urge was a compounded urge, on a dormant inquisitiveness waiting for a catharsis of sorts. Why dormant? Yes, he had secretly witnessed very close relatives of his, behind such smoke screens. It was a curious act to watch the cigarette changing place between a pair of fingers and a pair of lips ! But more smoke came when the cigarette was between the lips than the fingers. The secret behind this act was not known until around his tenth year when he rolled a piece of white paper, positioned it between his lips and lit it with a Match box, he secretly drew out from the kitchen store. There was a significant flame at the lit end, but it just was snuffed out almost immediately. He rolled it a little tighter then and tried to light; he remembered how his mother was lighting up the wooden and coal stoves in the kitchen, blowing with an elongated cylinder like a flute, the small flame and making the wood or coal catch fire . He blew into the paper cylinder! Nothing spectacular happened. The paper did not glow. The end wilted like a dried flower petal and was blown away in the wind. It then occurred to him that if the smoke had to come from between the lips, it has to go inside initially. He thought he found the answer for a big problem and carefully lit a new roll of paper and tried to draw the smoke in… His eyes were clouded by copious amount of tears and his throat felt the acrid odour. He coughed for a while. He would never repeat this experiment again in his life.
But the smell of real cigarettes was different. He wanted to smoke. But the men in the room had other ideas.
Swamy took out the balance from the money he paid for the “ Old Monk”…
The name “ Old Monk” was ringing in his mind from the time he was asked to get this from the city, but remained at the backyard of his thoughts till he took out the balance cash, which he intended to give back because he felt reduced.
That was the first time in his life that someone told him to keep the change. He had seen such practices at home, where his mother had with a benevolent heart, left the balance with the less fortunate people many times. He remembered seeing an old vegetable vendor, bringing vegetables in a basket balanced over her supple neck. His mother used to tell her to keep the change, if some time, the woman had to give balance back to his mother. He had heard that woman bless his mother. However, to keep the change with him was disgraceful, he thought.
He extended his hand with the cash, ”Sir, the balance, its ok sir, I don’t need it”.
“If that suits your hat, it’s fine. But wait, let’s have your company for a while young man”, said the fair tall person, now extending his hand, receiving the cash, and shaking Swamy’s hand. He said “ I am Kuruvilla, this is Jay, and that guy is Rat, short for Ratnam!” with a supressed smile. The said Ratnam called Rat, was amused, not angry. Swamy learnt that some people amuse others at their own cost.
Swamy shook hands with Jay and Rat. Jay looked to be in a mood to extend Swamy’s stay in the room still further. It looked as though Swamy was an instant friend in their midst.
“Do you remember any Indian History, Swamy?” Jay put a difficult question to Swamy.
Without waiting to hear his response, which Jay thought would be right, for certain, he asked him the next question” Do you remember Jallianwala Bagh massacre”
Swamy said with emphasis, “ Yes” sir.
“ Cut out the SIR..ok, now, who was responsible for that , do you know”
“General Dyer” answered Swamy, wondering what that had to do with him standing in front of these three strangers with the “ Old Monk” already getting into their nervous system.
As if his mind was being read, Ratnam interrupted his thoughts, “ You know Swamy, you are wondering why these guys are after stale old history. There’s a reason pal. This guy Dyer, called Reginald Dyer the Butcher of Amritsar, was born to the famous brewer who brewed this wonderful stuff in the foothills of Himalayas, that you have just got for us from the town”
Wow, wondered more Swamy now a little at ease. He wondered more at the knowledge of history pertinent to what they used to drink, and more so connected with the history of the land itself! Some days later, he went to the famous library in the town and traced through the shelves to find a book, which would give him knowledge on the psychological make- up of the so called “Butcher of Amritsar”.
The words Bella pronounced and how she bluntly tore herself away from a conversation he was having with her, left him stunned. Sam sat on the bench till the train was about to move. He stood up and walked towards his coach. He didn’t want to look at the window where Bella sat. He kept his gaze down…
But just after he walked past her window, he looked back. Nothing….nothing was there to make him feel better. The window was closed. He climbed up to his coach, reached his seat and stretched himself. There was a pain that he felt drilling through his bad leg. His active life and Soccer coaching ended with that unfortunate incident narrated earlier, when a biker hit him from the back. A piece of his thighbone stuck through the front of his right thigh.
The surgeons operated on him in a local hospital and a plaster cast was applied. Those days were nightmare in his life with high fever and excruciating pain. The surgery had failed. Sam could not forgive the biker at any moment in his life. He remembered his protracted stay in the hospital and the second surgery. He was attended to, in all his needs in the hospital, by a stranger. This stranger happened to be a recruit to the University Football Club a few months before Sam met with the accident. He was a Medical Graduate Student who had come from Rhodesia. He had a special respect and affection for the coach and decided to forego his examinations and classes to be of help for the lonely Sam.

Rhoda was not by his side as she was on an overseas employment in a Pharmaceutical Company as their Biochemist. She could not return home to be with Sam due to contingencies. Nevertheless, she kept talking to him on the phone and was prepared to be back on a holiday a few months later. As a matter of fact, it was Sam, who was responsible for his loneliness and he had dissuaded Rhoda from returning, to be by his side. Over the years an uneasy breach developed between them, for which Sam had been the cause.
Sam sent mails to his only dear daughter Victoria, who was then preparing for her Post Graduate examinations in Applied Computer Science.. She was engaged to be married to the son of one of Rhoda’s cousins who was Victoria’s mentor in the university. Victoria and her fiancé Savio were at Stanford University.
Victoria was married to Savio in the following year and in the next year Sam and Rhoda had their first grandchild.
Sam’s pain was associated with so many memories that pain became an integral part of his self.
Bella slept. She was in another world-the world of dreams. She felt as if there were no present. She existed in a strange technological future. She was inside a huge vehicle that could move vertically up a slope. She could float on air inside that vehicle as if she lay in mid-air and moved across anywhere at will. Somewhere in her consciousness she seemed to have been aware that she was dreaming. And in that dream, she was trying to find out the meaning of her dream. And then, she entered a class room. She was late for class. She saw her schoolmates. She remembered Deepansha the chubby fat girl. Deepansha was an extremely competitive top ranker. She was the darling of the teachers because of her grades. And then she saw Kirthi. Kirthi and Deepansha were busy animatedly discussing about politics and ministers with the teachers. Aashmeen and Kaira too were there. It was the last day in school. Everyone was hugging, bidding a tearful farewell. Bella felt like an alien in their midst. She was not sad; but she tried to look as if she was sad. As a matter of fact she was happy that at last the school life had ended. The School Principal noticed that Bella wasn’t sad. He turned around and asked her, “When would you cry?”, That question seemed quite odd. Bella remained silent. That tall dark Catholic Priest once had paid Bella’s family a visit, on her birthday, while he still was an aspirant and Bella was in the 9th Std. Bella was her naughty self and secretly admired that intelligent, would be priest!
Bella had slept with her head at the window side of the lower berth. She returned to the real world of her journey as the tangential sun, detached from heat, as if the sun had a cooler side to it, flickered across leaves and branches of trees by the railway line, and played hide and seek on her eyes.
Bella was exhausted by the classroom dream. Her eyelids felt heavy. She didn’t want to open her eyes. Something more than the dream had been weighing heavy upon her eyes and heart. She knew the reason. She felt like weeping.


“Who was this Sam? Why had he become so important to her as if she had been courting him for years? Why did she have to be a fool, a fool beyond any scrupulous thinking? And what has she got to do with a married old man whose life and limb are in ruins? Why should it matter to her whether he was illogical in getting married while he had given no due importance to such a relationship? What did he think of her outburst and abrupt turning away? Did that matter any way to her? Her head was getting heavier with the previous night’s thoughts and the classroom dream made her morning bitter.
Deepansha, Kirthi, the Teachers and the Priest went drumming inside her head. Amidst that din, she remembered Sam’s face looking back as he walked past her window. Something was tugging at her throat. She wanted to wet her dry throat. She opened her eyes and peered through the silhouettes of Aashmeen and Kaira. They were seated side by side opposite to her. Kaira was seated next to her window side, leaning a little on the window frame. Aashmeen was half across Kaira’s chest, her head resting on Kaira’s right breast. Aashmeen’s legs were folded and her feet rested on the berth. Kaira’s legs were dangling down, her right arm around Aashmeen’s shoulder. Her left hand held Aashmeen’s hands, resting on her thighs. They were awake. But their eyes were closed. They were talking to each other. The subject was their respective boyfriends!
Kaira and Aashmeen were ecstatic, relating to each other the kisses, caresses and the finer aspects of very personal human encounters. Bella could hear their whispering moments of realities and the suppressed giggles. She was disinterested. Yet, wanted to hear them! At least that was taking away the heaviness resting on her chest.
The scenery speeding outside her window then was brightly lit. Bella felt the slow lagging of the train and knew that the train was approaching a halt… she suddenly felt butterflies in her stomach. She decided in a moment that she would do what Sam did on the previous instances.
“Good morning Kay, good morning Aash” wished Bella for the second time that morning, stretched her arms up in shedding off the sleeping fibres of her slender small frame.
She stood up, straightened her crumpled trousers and shirt, picked up her toothbrush and paste, her small pink towel with bright yellow floral design, and walked up to the wash room…she even hummed a couple of lines
“Because he's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar
The only one who's got enough of me to break my heart ”, of Taylor Swift…
She looked at her face in the mirror…is she ugly….Sam never thought so.
She hurried up back to the seat to take her purse and her flask, and got ready to get down as the train was about to halt. And it did so in a minute .She walked to a nearby coffee stall, filled up the flask with black coffee, got a couple of paper cups and looked at the coach where Sam was. She couldn’t see him there at his window. She walked up to the entrance of his coach.
“Hi Bella...Good morning again” Bella heard him wishing her. He was standing at the door.
“ Wait, don’t get down, I have some coffee for us” Bella’s announcement made him forget his pains ! He smiled.
She hopped up the coach and both went to his berth. He made space for her to sit, taking the flask and the cups in his hands. He sat by her side, poured a little coffee for both of them and handed a cup to her.
“ Sam, I’m sorry. I just left last night. I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t hear anymore.”
“I know, I know Bella… But let us talk about that later. Have your coffee, and thanks”
They sipped the steaming coffee, were silent through a those few minutes.
“ This is a small station. The train will move soon. It will be better that you go back to your coach” cautioned Sam.
“Yeah, ok.., but I wish I could spend some time with you. I like to hear you talk and I want to talk. Ok…will see later”, said Bella as she collected his empty cup and he asked her “ Can I have the flask?”. She smiled and said” If you want, Yes”
Sam looked at Bella walking over to her coach. A little later the seats in his coach were all back with their occupants. The train moved. Sam looked around. There were people of all ages, the younger ones preferring to be on the top berths. There were two girls and a boy, perhaps between 8 to 10 years. They were glued to their game gadgets. There was a constant noise from those small hand held devices. One could observe how emotions could be stirred and the physical reaction to happenings under their finger control could go out of control! A world of happenings at fingertips, which turn the little minds into avengers and shooters, or they grow out of these silly involvements and become game changers in a world of profits and losses, thought Sam. He saw a couple seated on the far side with their cell phones active. It seemed that they were exchanging messages to each other, sitting in proximity, to avoid others hearing or eavesdropping. There were obvious moments of subdued laughter and physical reactions of pretending to be angry and tap one another on the nearest part of their body. He moved his gaze towards an old woman in her eighties perhaps, with clear wide eyes with lush lashes. She looked beautiful thought Sam. The old woman captured his look and perhaps his thoughts too.
“ Do we know each other?” she initiated a conversation. Sam was a little taken aback, composed himself and said, “ Not really Madam”. The next words that came from him were lies. “ But your face looked familiar”. “ May be in the here and now or some earlier birth!” exclaimed the old woman and continued “Where are you from, What’s your family name? and where are you going?”
“A barrage of questions for having admired her eyes and the lashes?” thought Sam. And he was intrigued by her words on past lives. Was it just a way of talking or did she really believe in past lives.

Sam with a hesitant voice, “ I, I, my name is Samuel…Samuel Parker. To your other questions, I would rather say, I know where I come from but not where I am going.”
“ Just like the wind blows where it wants, and you hear the sound, but cannot tell from where it comes, and where it goes…is it that way Mr.Parker?” there was a mischievous smile and a glitter in her eyes, saying this.
These words opened his memory cupboard. “Where did I hear these words?” He searched.
“Don’t bother Mr. Parker.” She said, realising that he had forgotten his Scriptural lessons. “If you don’t mind shall I call you Sam?”, She inquired.
That was a relief for Sam, wondering what sort of a person this old lady was.
“They named me Freyja Parvathi… F R E Y J A…. You can call me Freya as it is pronounced.. My father was a German and my mother an Indian from Tamil Nadu. I took her name as my surname!” She was not an ordinary eighty and odd year old woman it seemed.
“First thing first. Are you a practicing Christian.?” Sam didn’t expect this question from a stranger who was more of questions than answers. All for looking at her eyes, he thought, once again. He remembered the day he travelled in that three wheeler vehicle when he went to buy the “Old Monk Rum”and noticed a couple of young women seated opposite him; at that time he was all face down, a shy young man, and the painted toe nails of one of the women was enchanting. That was the first time that he had seen a pair of feet, enclosed partially in a pair of thin but elegant footwear, the feet carefully carved and with fair pink skin colour that matched the deep purple colour of the polished manicured nails.
He never looked up at the owner of the treasured feet. He never knew who she was in the rest of his life. It wasn’t necessary.
But here, in front of him sat the elderly lady, whose face he happened to look at and imagined what would have been the reaction, if he had tried to look at the woman with her pink dressed up feet!
“Sam, are you ok?” Freyja looked at him,with a little concern in her face.
“ I’m ok Madam Freya”. Sam responded immediately, but again was hesitant to talk at length and depth about his belief system. He was wondering, where to start, if he necessarily had to talk out his heart.
“ Just Freya…Look, if you think it’s very personal, just ignore my question. Don’t bother. I am an explorer though I am 82 years. I had been watching you, right from the time you entered the train with the help of that little girl. You were in your world till you started looking around and looked at my eyes. She looked petit, beautiful. “Tell about her, I mean about the girl if not about you.”
Sam’s heart descended down to his stomach. Come on Madam….Freya, you are avowed to be after me like chasing clouds, this bright morning, thought Sam.
His earlier training in Psychology seemed to have failed him at that moment. He thought, as on many other occasions that he had been committing gross inappropriate acts and one such act was that he continued to engage in a conversation with Freyja. This had been his model behavioural problem, of not being able to draw a line when it was necessary. Or was he allowing himself to be scrutinised, allowing himself to be pasted against a wall, allowing himself to face situations and letting himself to be hurt and to hurt…Sam could clearly see his visage grow grotesque, under pressure of the invited tempest over the years. He compared himself to Dorian Gray. Perhaps there were many Dorian Grays in this world, he mused. In his life he was both Basil Hallward and Dorian Gray. A subtle shadow of sadness moved across his face which was not missed by Freyja Parvathi. But she restrained herself from asking him anything more.
Sam cleared his throat. His heart was beating normal in his chest. “I met Bella, yeah that’s her name, just an hour or so before I entered this train. I am not sure what prompted her to talk to me, as I initiated the conversation with just a casual smile.” Freyja was listening very attentively to Sam. She seemed to know what prompted Bella to socialise with Sam.” Then, she volunteered to help me go up the coach” continued Sam. “She is some sort of a student I suppose. We have been travelling for the past two days and I don’t know beyond this though I happened to be talking to her on the Railway Platform. But I know that she is no ordinary girl, unlike the other two girls accompanying her”.
“She has a queer English accent, better than yours I think Sam. But you have some natural accent more British than Indian. Where did you study?”
Freyja spoke with a guttural voice, which sounded as strong as she appeared physically.
“It’s my turn again. Ok. I am from the South, a graduate in Sports and Entertainment Science .I was as an instructor in soccer. They called me a “Coach” I am forced to retire –accident- surgery- and O life has changed a lot. I did Major in Psychology before I got into sports. Truly, Freya, the base in Psychology did make me a better instructor in soccer. Playing Soccer is like living one’s life! Have you watched any games Freya?
“Yes, Sam. And be surprised when I say I was a player myself”. That was definitely a revelation, an element to be surprised about and not unbelievable, considering the power and influence Freyja wielded over Sam at that time.
“You continue Sam. I want to hear your analogy.” Freyja seemed to be interested.
“I conceive like this. Soccer is a game played by two teams. In all circumstances, a win or at the most a draw is the preferred result by either of the teams. The team has formations, to advance forward to the goal, to keep the ball in play and possess the ball, and defend their own goal or penalty area and their goal posts. All these entail an interaction between the players of the team and those of the opposite team. This is a dynamic process, which goes on changing and challenging the physical and mental power of the players. In addition to the two teams, there is a third person in the contest- the spectators. The spectators could be complementary or detrimental to the process of the game; they can sway the game if they desired, by tactics on the stand which sometime may result in loss of property or life, as people have a mad love for football; sometime they look similar to the spectators in the Roman stadium!”
Both of them laughed at his last remark about the football fans. In Freyja’s eyes, there was more than laughter. There was tear, which carefully spread over her expansive eyeballs and did not well up.
“Anyway, continuing on what I was saying, Soccer therefore is a game of creating and controlling chances, to suit the purpose of the teams in question. Is not human life similar to this great fanaticism of the modern world?” observed Sam and left Freyja to comment on it, noticing the subtle change in her face.
Freyja was in a different world. More than the nuances of the game, she was absorbed in thoughts about her German father, who was lynched by mob fury in a Federation Cup game against another National team, known for that Countrymen’s brutal spirit. Freyja was sitting there with her mother watching the game.. She was watching her Countrymen win the game. She was watching a valiant Gladiator fall to the fury of battered ego. She clutched at her mother’s dress and buried her face. She was ten.
Freyja spoke “ You are right Sam; in fact more than right. Life is not just a phenomenon similar to football, but life became football and vice versa for some people; you know what I mean?”
Sam looked at her.
“ You know Sam, my Dad was a national player and my mother was a keen follower of the game. I was ten years old. We were watching a match. Dad was on the field. There was a corner kick in favour of Germany. Dad was positioned for a header; the ball went sailing over a hyperbolic path and Dad jumped to meet the ball. There was a defender, less tall than Dad was.. His “hand of God” in a “Maradonian” phrase, went up along with his head and deflected the ball in the flick of a moment and also landed his strong elbow onto my dad’s head by purpose. Dad fell down. The referee and the linesman noticed this. A penalty kick was ordered. And you know, Dad was up to shoot the penalty kick. He did, he did it with precision. The ball flew with ammunition straight onto a corner of the net, which went ballooning. It was a sight to see and the final whistle blew. Germany won the game. At the same time there was noise in the stadium, where supporters of the losing team sat. There was instantly some confusion. Men jumped inside the ground and before anyone realised what was happening, the mob directed their charge towards Dad .Help came too late. The riot police descended in. I was scared. I clung to my mother. She held onto me. I was sobbing, with my face buried in her dress. The noise ceased. I tried to turn. Mom pressed my head back. I heard the ambulance siren. I heard, someone calling my mother. Mom kept me close and didn’t let me see what was happening. I heard someone talking to Mom. She carefully freed me and told me “Listen Freyja, now Mr.Günther will take you to our car. I will join you soon. Ok?”. I nodded my head, tried to look into the direction of the field, but could not see anything because everyone was standing around obstructing my view. Mr.Günther, took my hands and guided me to the car. A little while later, I saw Mom accompanied by two women police officers walking towards us. She looked pale. Was holding her kerchief to her mouth. Mr.Günther tightened his hold onto my hand and drew me closer to him. As Mom came closer I could see that she was sobbing. But quickly wiped her eyes and said “Thanks Günther, we can go”.
“But Mom, Dad, Where’s Dad? I want my Dad. My mother held me tenderly and said” We will go home. Dad will come in another van.”
“I sat waiting in Mom’s lap at the front. Yes, after a few hours a van arrived. That was a black police van, police officers got down, switched open the back door, and slowly a coffin slid out.
That I lost my wonderful loving adorable father to the unjust attack on the soccer field in frustration and anger was sinking my heart.”
“I am sorry Freyja.” Sam was disturbed.
“It’s ok Sam. And it was not ok too. I carried this, you know Sam, this burden. It was more than I could bear at that age. Mom became a different person from then on. She was not angry. She became closed. But she was not cold. She became Benjamin Schulz and Parvathi Schulz, my father and mother in one.
She didn’t give up. We continued to live in Stuttgart until I completed the 5th grade. But Sam, it became difficult to live in that country though my mother and I had been German citizens. You know why? Sam!”
“Which year was that Freya?” Sam tried to recollect the political history of Germany.
“It was 1936. Mom told me, ‘Freyja I think it is time we leave for India’. A few days before that Mom told me the truth about the attack on Dad. ‘It was not just a frenzy of football. It was deeper. The men who attacked Dad were not any foreigners.’”
“You know Sam, Mom was a Sanskrit scholar. She was teaching in the university. She knew that we were going to be stripped off our rights.
The political changes in Germany were making some people the scapegoats and targets for the fallout of the First World War! Hilarious, isn’t it? At least that was one of the lame reasons for an otherwise historical branding of that race. I wouldn’t know if you have heard this phrase “ the Jews are our misfortune”. It was getting firmly rooted in the minds of the ruling elite and it seemed that a major disaster was imminent. You know what followed from 1936 onwards.”
“I can run those days through in my mind; have read and seen the visualization of the happenings in that famous Steven Spielberg’s “Schindler’s list”. But you, you had been directly affected. I just can’t imagine..” completed Sam.
“Yes Sam, it was difficult. And it continues to be difficult for the majority of that minority; what sin remains in their innocent genetics to hound them out, just because they were born and are being born under that banner? I fail to understand the acrimony poured in various media blogs. It is very sad.” Freyja sounded very sad and sympathetic.
“Freya, this world seems to believe in an Eschatological future, without even laying foundation for it in the present in love. I fail to understand how hate can be a source of moral power to win a future! We live in the memory called Humanism with selective amnesia.”
The morning was getting brighter. Sam asked Freyja “Can I get you some breakfast and coffee? It looks as though we are heading towards another station.”
“Mmmm, that sounds good. ok. Get me some bananas and a cup of black coffee”. The glitter in that half -Indian eyes sparkled!
“ I see, we make a club now of the Black Coffee Drinkers”, smiled Sam quite widely enough to bear his teeth, which ordinarily are hidden by his overhanging moustache, and one could see the many creases forming at the angle of his eyes behind his spectacles which he wiped often to keep them clean. Though he was not handsome by any standard, Freyja much older to him, thought that there was something magical in his appearance and talk, that attracted women. She felt young again, and didn’t feel guilty about it. To many in this society, this would be an outrageous thought, she mused. Her amorous thoughts disproportionate to her age, was brought to a halt by the train heaving a sigh and halting at a station, yet another junction awaiting more drama of life on its platform!
Sam got down carefully on a rain soaked asphalt platform, with pools of water reflecting the grey overhanging clouds. He trudged slowly and cautiously. He reached the restaurant, got a few bananas, filled up enough coffee for three, and looked at the next coach. He waved at Bella, whose eyes were riveted on his frame. He proceeded to pack some take away breakfast of cheese sandwich and came a little quicker towards Bella, and whisperingly asked her, “ Would you like to join us in my place for breakfast?”
Bella’s skewed face preceded her question,” Who is ‘us’ ?” with an emphasis on the pronoun. “ I was under the impression that you travelled alone!” Bella interjected.
“ Well, yes, I am travelling alone and not alone also! Smiled Sam and said “Listen Bella, I will introduce you to the third person, when we get to my place. Is it ok with you?”
Bella seemed to be getting off from her seat with a little reluctance and curiosity. She said, “Yeah..will come”.
Bella took the breakfast pack from Sam and walked along, her left shoulder brushing over his right arm. Though of no significance to watching eyes, it yielded pleasant feelings to the man walking with Bella. It seemed ages before the nearness of a woman evoked such a response in Sam.
Her lithe fingers held tight to his hand as Bella got in the coach and helped Sam to reach up.
“Freya I present Bella to you”, said Sam with the same smile again. Bella was pink with that introduction to Freyja, yet quite composed, wished “ Good Morning Madam”. Freyja who was quite humoured by the introduction, “ O my, Good morning child…it’s nice to have you here. Sam’s drawn you here for a collective breakfast ehn? You look wonderful. I could rarely see such natural people around me these days. There are more plastic faces and all kinds of art on the body of young ones like you. what do you do my little child?”
Bella wasn’t comfortable with the label “Child” that too “little chid”; but didn’t show her displeasure. Perhaps Freyja was aged enough to call her so, she thought.
“ I am a student in Sports Medicine Mam” replied Bella.
“Call me Freya, I feel at ease”, was responded by Bella, “call me Bella. I would be at ease.” There was laughter in their midst!



“This Sandwich is not good; I am sorry Bella”, Sam directed his apology to Bella.
“It’s alright Sam. You don’t have to apologise. By the way do you know any cooking Sam?” Bella’s query made it interesting for Freyja.
“That’s a question which has to be dealt in detail Bella. But not now. I learnt cooking while at home.. During some days in the month, mom or my elder sister used to direct my elder brother or myself; we managed some basic vegetarian food.
It was only later at the university that I learnt more. May be if we happen to have the time and place I can make you my victim” Freyja and Bella smiled loud along with Sam when he declared his cooking competence!
“That’s an interesting proposition. Let me see….where are we now?” Freyja looked out through the window in quest of the name board of the station.
“Are you serious Freya? It reminds me… where are you heading to?”. Sam was naturally inquisitive, since Freyja had proposed a plan to share the meal by Chef Sam ; it was disturbing though, not because he would find it difficult to offer a tasty meal, but because he had not made up his mind about a destination for his journey! He was just drifting, like a splinter on the high seas. He subjected himself to be tossed, from the Deep to different peaks. Would there be a destination, except the final one, in which everyone would have a common share! Freyja swept away his cloud of thoughts at one go.

It seemed that Freyja was reading his mind. But she did not want to discuss about her journey. Instead she turned to Bella and said “Bella, nice name…beautiful, apt, in the personification of the name. I was not half as beautiful as you are, when I were your age. My mother was a beautiful woman. Her beauty was not definable by any one aspect of her changing appearance, you know. Whether she had that flowing black hair, that reached up to the back of her knees, or the neck length mane she sported when she was in Stuttgart , the black dot she placed in the centre of her forehead, or left that space empty after Dad passed away, a custom she inherited from her Hindu lineage, she was absorbing. Whether she wore the traditional South Indian sari or any other cultural dress, she was a class apart. My father loved her Sanskrit and her beauty.”
“You are flattering me Freya, the other girls who are travelling with me are really beautiful. You must see them. I am not. And what about you? You have such beautiful eyes. You must be in your sixties, but you look much younger.” commented Bella.
“Sam, do you have anything to say about that?” ,that question came from Freyja looking like a blooming flower with its own pride!
“Me, ehm…well, only to correct Bella, that you are not in your sixties!” directed Sam his voice looking at both of them.
Bella’s eyes widened and before she could ask anything about his comment, Sam declared “Freya is 82!”
“ You are kidding. Freya looks, O my God …I can’t believe that Freya’s….You surprise me …Freya..,wow…!” , Bella was in awe.
Freya switched over and sat by the side of Bella, held her left hand with both her hands, peered into her eyes and said with winking eyes, “ You know Bella, Sam is in big trouble.”
Bella’s eyebrows came closer together.
“Sam has to now make a choice.” Freyja left her words hanging.
Bella’s wondering mind, stayed wondering.
Sam was aware of what was going on in Freyja’s mind. He kept silent, wanting Freyja to say what she wanted to say. Freyja unwittingly made Bella uncomfortable saying, “ Actually, consider that Sam is seated between us, and he is in a dilemma as to who to kiss!”
Sam, least expected Freyja to come out with such a statement which was meant to humour them.
Bella sandwiched between them, was taken by surprise and did not know what to say.
There was silence. Bella turned right to meet Sam’s eyes. Freyja looked over Bella’s shoulders at the helpless face of Sam.
Sam, cleared his throat and came out with his choicest response. “Well actually, to be frank, I was not prepared for that”.
Freyja followed Sam’s response with another stunner. “You mean to say that you were not prepared for a kiss or the choice of the person?”
That was enough for Bella to lose patience and before either of her flanks knew what was happening, Bella was up on her feet and disappeared from their presence.
Sam looked around at the couple who were earlier chatting with each other in their cell phones. He could trace their eyes from where they were to where they rested after meeting his eyes. He exactly knew how the human psyche would function in such circumstances. He was interested in observing people, and was undeterred by their reactions. His stream of consciousness stumbled over the voice of Freyja, “Sam”. Sam turned his eyes to Freyja. “What’s going on inside your head?” Freyja asked. “Nothing unusual Freya. It’s about a Psychoanalytic concept called ‘Transference’. “Mmm,say.”, Freyja’s inquisitive mind at that age was phenomenal. As a matter of fact her interactions and responses observed by Sam, led him to believe that Freyja was young in her heart, mind, soul and body!
You know Freya, Scientists, Theologians and Philosophers have an addiction of sorts to use phrases and terminologies which the common man would be unable to understand while the same could be understood with ease by language of common use. Now, what I was thinking was about how Bella reacted. Was it a learned response from previous experiences like in the famous “Transference“ of Freud or was it a defence mechanism where she doesn’t want to face and be part of a situation but that which she really wanted to be a part of. That was what occupying my head.”
“Sam”, she is young. And perhaps I shouldn’t have played up that young mind, just now.” ,said Freyja with a little sadness in her voice.
On the other side of the divide, in the next coach, the wise friends of Bella, were gleefully offering solace with words of, “told you already…such an old farxxxxx….didn’t you get somebody young like my brother to be friendly with?”. Bella was fuming and was infuriated by these unwanted kindness from her so called friends. Bella didn’t have any bosom friends. She didn’t count anyone around her of her age and surrounding to meet the demands of her intellectual pursuits, idealism and outlook on life. She was above the rest of her colleagues in her desires to know about life, yet when it came to experiencing such mundane joys as marriage and family, as it was mentioned earlier once, she became anxious and depressed, lacking something in her life.
Freyja reminded of someone in her early life. One who controlled her emotions, and played with them.-Someone like an elder sister. But, it was not her sister for she didn’t have one…Bella did not want to see Freyja. But at the same time, she thought that it was silly. Bella was clearly confused!
2nd DAY NOON
It was getting to be mid day and the railway caterers started appearing from nowhere; there were none till that time during the journey. With reluctance Bella consented to share lunch with the two fellow travellers who were secretly happy that Bella had a bitter lesson. Bella felt sorry that she left abruptly and wanted to see Sam…but she resisted the thought. The catering representative took orders for their lunch and disappeared over the next compartment. Along with these three young ladies there were two people, a man and a woman; they must have been in their late seventies. The man, as Aashmeen recalled being called by the woman as Raghu, seemed very caring and attentive to the woman’s needs. Though he looked older, he had been helping the woman he called Prabha, as if she can’t help herself. She was chiding him , “Raghu, I am ok. I can do this myself. You make me feel as if I am a child. And don’t worry. I will sleep on the upper berth. You need to take care. You sleep here”, pointing to the lower berth.
Aashmeen and Kaira were more interested in what others wore, and what they spoke; their conversations centred on mostly about appearance, apparels, beauty, boyfriends, love, love making and hatred towards certain people who didn’t conform to their philosophy of life. They were observing this old couple, and learnt their names, by hearing to their conversations and concluded that they were married couple in love with each other.
Aashmeen and Kaira wondered, how can a woman and man who did not know each other before marriage, ever come to terms with each other. How can love blossom between two strangers thrown together in the act of marriage arranged by elders who didn’t know about the secrets of the souls involved in such a union.
Bella was wondering why was it such an urge to see Sam again; it was barely a few nights and days since she met him as a fellow traveller; why was she attracted to him. -was it her loneliness, was he her hero on the horse…why should she continue to be infected with thoughts about him.
Caterers in a different uniform entered their coach and asked for their orders. Mr.Raghu told them that they have already given orders and have paid also for the same. The men looked at each other and in a condescending tone, told him that they were the authentic caterers for that journey!
It was the turn of Mr.Raghu and Ms.Prabha to look at each other. The trio on the other side looked at each other. Bella realised the irony of the situation, in a lighter vein, whereas her co travellers in the compartment were taken aback with the knowledge that they were taken for a ride by some strangers who would have performed the same trick on many others in the train!
Bella was secretly admiring the novel type of hoodwinking employed by the men posing as caterers. She wanted to know whether Sam and Freyja too were victims of the trick.
While they were all looking void outside, but pregnant with thoughts of being fooled, the real caterers, came forward to take the orders again saying, “ please let us have your order for lunch, and we will collect the bill amount later. Perhaps you can make a complaint to the Railway police about the incident; we will send a constable here soon. Is it ok?”.
All of them seemed to agree to the proposition as they gave the orders again and settled in loud thoughts and muffled conversation.
Bella’s lateral thinking gave way to doubts about the whole situation. She thought that the whole thing was a pre -planned act by men who knew each other, and that they will be dividing the spoils among themselves. The condescending act of receiving the bill amount later was hogwash to prove their professional integrity and take away any doubts about them.
The lunch came in served hot, and most of their dismal thoughts got buried in that tasty food they had. Ms, Prabha was consoling Mr.Raghu and this incident opened up conversation between the girls and the old couple.
Bella however, decided to keep her thoughts and words to her own self, and was engaged in reading a book by Raja Rao captioned, “The Serpent and the Rope”. Somehow the book on illusions and reality was coincidentally residing in the hands of Bella at that moment.
Though the illusion and reality of Raja Rao’s serpent and rope represented a philosophical inquiry into the life of the protagonist, yet it befitted well the irony of the situation and more so when the girls came to know that the couple in their compartment were a brother and sister and not a married couple. This came to light when nosy questions in succession by Aashmeen as to how old they were and how many children they had, resulted in a loud hearty laughter bursting out from both the people seated across. It was Ms. Prabha to talk first amidst her suppressed laughter. “You know young girl…what’s your name?”… “Aashmeen.”
“Yeah, Aashmeen, you know, Raghu is my twin brother. He was born half an hour before I was born. We are 75 the week ahead.” Before the other two girls could say anything, Bella who was seemingly buried in the philosophical question of ‘Existence’ within the pages of the book she was holding, peeped over and wished “ Happy 75th Birthday both of you” and let out a meaningful laughter.
“Thank you little girl. You are Bella, right?”, said Ms. Prabha.
Bella was nodding her head as she noticed the mixed expressions on the face of her colleagues-expressions of surprise and realization of the falsehood of presumptive suppositions- a defeat to their self- knowledge they possessed.
Many such presumptive suppositions lead to a colour of bias, to our understanding of others and objects Bella thought.
Freyja got up , keeping a hand on Sam,” You be seated. I will get us something for lunch. “You could have let me order when the men came in for serving us. Now you want to go down.” was the complaining voice of Sam.
“ You know Sam, we get better fresh food, we can choose what we want. Now let me go and fetch. The train won’t leave me and go.”
This is the first time he observed Ms.Freyja getting up and walking . She wore a sari, which covered herself well enough, but detailed a womanhood that was necessarily of someone much younger than her age.
Sam looked away after an instant, but his mind was wandering.
It was not much after Freyja got down, that Bella came in and said “Hi, Sam, what about lunch? Where’s Freyja? I am sorry that I disappeared suddenly. I just felt like that.”
“it’s ok Bella. Freya has gone to get lunch. How about you?” asked Sam.
“What to tell you Sam. It was a fiasco. We were glad that caterers came in asking for orders for lunch. All of us including the old couple, I think you may not have seen them, gave orders and paid the money. Sometime later other two men with a different uniform came in asking for our orders. The old man in our compartment said that all of us have already given orders and paid in advance for the same. The caterers said that they were the only ones serving those compartments and left us in no other way than to order again. They also said that they will send the Railway police to lodge a complaint about the incident. We have got our lunch packets now.”
“O my God. Freyja prevented me both the times the men as you have described came in for orders. And now she has gone to get our lunch. I think there is a racket going on here. Guys are sharing what they get.”
“ Exactly. That’s what I thought too. Any way good that Freyja had made decision for you! I am sorry once again. Will see you later”, said Bella and swiftly walked away sending a kiss on the air to Sam! Bella didn’t say a word about the other fiasco, about the twins mistaken as a couple in love!
Freyja returned to the coach with two packets of vegetarian lunch and two packets of juice.
“Hahn, that’s a very inviting aroma. What’s inside Freya?” inquired Sam. His gastronomical sense was quite acute and felt much comforted with the appetite having been aroused, the food, which the couple at the far end having received from the caterer been not very inviting. He remembered then that the couple did not fall a prey to the trick of the men acting as caterers earlier for some reason or the other.
He related to Freyja how the next coach and perhaps other coach occupants had been deceived. Not before he completed that account, Freyja with her exclamatory face and with a little glee and enthusiasm of a child, added to her voice, said “ O my god, Sam, I wouldn’t know how I can say this to you. You know, when I was getting the take away from the restaurant, I noticed that a stalky dark man with a huge upturned moustache, was sitting with the guys who came in as caterers. I wouldn’t have paid attention; but one of the men pulled out a liquor bottle and started filling up the empty glasses in front of them, with a cheer in his voice, saying “For our continued catering success!” What I heard was a ridiculous and what I saw was blatant violation of civic laws in this country, drinking alcohol in a public place not meant for serving, or consuming alcohol. Do you reckon Sam, that the man with the moustache could be a policeman?”
“I wish Bella were here to hear you report about this matter. She would have been thrilled!” exclaimed Sam.
The train seemed to have halted for an indefinite time. Passengers were seen more on the platform outside than in the train. And more people out there belonged to the journey; a few left over will either be on a journey and still few would never be on a journey!
Somewhere Sam’s mind inappropriately equated the situation with more people with criminal records in the free world outside than those in the prison and more responsible and lovely innocent people inside the prison walls than in the world outside! Sam was aware that the supposed similarity did not exist; it was a very silly equation.; yet his mind was stuck with that idea about prisons and the criminality of the world at large! Foucault was reigning in his mind; the birth of prisons was occupying his mind.
“What’s so deeply entrenched?” inquired Freyja drawing Sam from his Prison occupation. “You seem to be often drawn in Sam!” observed Freyja.
“ I have the luxury to stray away and stay away in thoughts. Precisely. I have the luxury to ponder and of course to even wander across the lands and seas; but many are deprived, sunk in the “ Brotberuf” , you know the Franz Kafka’s “Bread Job” of everyday life;?” Freya nodded in affirmation and continued to say “ Yes Sam. from Prague… who influenced people like Albert Camus and the memorable Existentialist Jean Paul Sartre … a few of them I have read.. ‘The Metamorphosis’ is one…”
“Yeah I was talking about the daily ‘bread job’; men who toiled the day through find rest and peace in alcohol, cheap street drugs, sex and such; they have a social life cluttered with restlessness, impatience, hatred, lovelessness, and a burdening family needs. They have no time to think about anything else. I have that luxury.. you have it .Do you agree…?” asked Sam expecting Freyja to agree with him.
“Not fully, Sam. There are many with this wonderful gift of ‘LOVE’, which one does not notice in the luxurious bedrooms and sitting rooms of the rich and neo rich, but find them in ghettos! They don’t have to think about Metaphysics and Steiner’s theories of the Soul, Ego, and the application of his knowledge on to the existential Christ, because many such live in the bond of Love. But Steiner was and is right, you know how Sam? He looked through the looking glass of the ancients and the moderns, and you know what he found? That today the modern man is given a sort of algorithm, whose steps were devised by the clairvoyant ancient man, with considerable thinking and understanding; the modern man doesn’t have to think much. He has been made lazy. We have inherited knowledge from our ancestors of things seen and unseen- may be undeservedly you know, and in futility inherited .The Kohelet says this… is it Ecclesiastes of the Christian Bible Sam?”
“Yes, Freya, `and tell me are you a practicing Jew?” asked Sam and bit his lips as he realised that Freyja had asked him a similar question about his faith when he introduced himself to her as Samuel Parker.
Unlike Sam, who did not respond immediately to her question, Freyja responded, “ Sam, I asked you whether you were a practicing Christian, because your name Samuel Parker suggested so…it was not necessary though that one should be a Christian bearing that name.. and you were not sure about the Scripture I quoted. You Know Sam, I never practiced any religion; but I studied them. The mere fact that Dad was a Jew and Mom a Hindu made me ask questions, even as I was young. And you can imagine Sam I was in the School which was the experimental and controversial.
Freyja had occasion to talk about her early school days in Stuttgart later in her conversations with Sam, as Bella came in saying, “ Have I disturbed your meal?”. Freyja and Sam in a unified voice by reflex replied “ No, Bella.” And Freyja said, “Come, sit Bella”. Bella sat by the side of Freyja to observe Sam. She turned to her left a little towards Freyja and decided to ask Sam and she asked: “ Sam, your rings? I want to listen more” She didn’t ask him more questions, nor did she ask him in privacy, but in the presence of Freyja a question filled with questions. Freyja in pregnant silence looked at Sam. She wanted Sam to talk…Sam looked around to the other side where the couple and the children sat. They were occupied with a Tablet together with the two children huddled and all their eyes and ears were on that Tablet.
Sam turned to address the two ladies. Bella then changed over, sat at the side of Sam, held his left hand, looked at his face, his eyes and said, “Sam, I am sorry. We come back to the same thing as this early morning. I didn’t allow you to continue when you started saying something like “each man to his own journey and some have the luxury”…I was upset…I disagreed with your decision to leave all the people at lurch and you go on a selfish journey… because you could afford to have that luxury. were you being impulsive?” Asking Sam a very disturbing question, Bella turned her eyes to Freyja.
Freyja’s eyes cast a meaningful intense glance. Her eyes were a gleam of understanding. She tenderly touched Bella’s left hand, drew it towards her and in more of a whispering voice said , “Bella, I have taken a special liking for you; perhaps if I had had a partner, I would have had a granddaughter of your age. I sort of, can read what is happening in your lovely little heart. I know what you will ask, “ what do you know?”. Let us not now talk about that nor about Sam. We will keep it for another day when we are alone on our lunch or supper out there in a station. Are you ok with that.?” Her voice and her gaze were so captivating that Bella nodded her head in silence and looked sideways at the new age couple with the Tablet in their hands held together, with their eyes and ears on to the other side where an interesting conversation was taking shape for a story to be evolved in their grinders.
But it was not to be so, at least for that time, thanks to the kindness and concern for the fortified privacy rendered by Freyja for Sam.{ to be contd)

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