Bangalore  Mumbai  Bangalore

Bangalore à Mumbai à Bangalore

How many times do you meet someone on an 18 hour journey and become fast friends? Not many times I bet. Most of acquaintances made during travel faze away because of natural causes. This story is about one such incident. Although even after 35 years, ‘she’ still remains a great friend. For some reason unknown to me, I have been her Agony Aunt for many a year. Maybe I was a good listener, maybe I spoke about relationships from my own experience, which ironically I gathered over the years of failed relationships and one-sided love affairs. 

Going back to the day I first met her. It was going to be a boring and a lonely journey to Bangalore from my beloved Mumbai. I had already resigned from the company I worked for in Bangalore and was ready to join another one in Mumbai. This move no doubt was difficult but going ahead would prove that it was a wise choice. I had to get back to Bangalore to collect all my stuff and come back to Mumbai.  I booked a single sleeper seat for my journey through Anand Travels. I boarded the bus from Nerul. I was feeling a bit low since I had expected a someone ‘special’ to see me off. But as it turned out, there were far better things for her to take care of. Yeah, as you might have guessed it, I was unlucky when it came to love. The cupid invariably and very conveniently forgot to shoot his love arrows at the person I fell in love with. C'est la vie..!!

The bus sped at a good pace; soon we left behind the ghats of Lonavla. It was 8:00 PM. In Sleeper buses, we have a lower berth and an upper berth. I always preferred the lower berth. She was on the berth above mine. The bus pulled into a decent looking restaurant for dinner. Just as I was about to get up from my seat, she stepped on my left foot. I thank my stars that she was not wearing pencil heals. She looked at me as if it was my mistake that my foot was right where it was. I expected an apology at the least. I got down from the bus deliberately limping more than it actually hurt. I walked over to the counter and ordered chicken fried rice. I had a seat. Meanwhile she too walked in and sat on a table farthest from the crowd.

It was a cold evening. For a guy who has spent an eternity in Mumbai even 20 degrees is cold because there are no winters in Mumbai. But that November evening was indeed cold. My teeth clattered, my body shivered, yet the warm coat that I was carrying remained tied to my waist. I was too much of a Man to let some cold bother me. I ordered for tea. It was hot and smelled of elaichi. I came out of the hotel and lit my cigarette. Smoked and sipped tea. I looked at her. She too was shivering. She had worn a sleeveless floral t-shirt and dark blue denims. I snickered. But wait.. was she really… I put out the cigarette and walked towards her. Trust me; I have never ever spoken to a stranger unless I was spoken to first. And here was a girl, shivering in the cold and wiping her tears. I had to comfort her. I was just built that way I guess. I took off the coat, placed it on the table that she was sitting. Signaling toward the empty chair in front of her, I asked, “May I?” She didn’t deny.

She took the coat and put it on. I pushed the tissue holder toward her. I signaled the thambi to get another cup of tea. I sat there in complete silence just sipping my tea and occasionally stealing glances toward her. For a moment even my mind was devoid of thoughts. Usually, my mind is cluttered with something useless, but not at this moment. The thambi got another cup of tea, I paid him 20 rupees. Bloody 20 rupees for this extra watery chai! This is extortion, I thought. I got up to leave. She looked at me with her triple B eyes – Big, Brown & Beautiful. There is something about the eyes which have just shed tears, they look so radiant, so mesmerizing, just like the trees after the first rain. I felt like I had done my job. I got up to leave.

“Stay,” she said in a choked voice. No ‘Thanks’, no ‘Sorry’… just Stay. I sat down. I rubbed by hands together to generate some warmth. I watched her as she quietly sipped the tea. The tissue never left her hands. She would dab her eyes with the tissue. I couldn't watch her cry.

“Look,” I said, “I don’t watch saas-bahu serials because I don’t like anyone crying. So here is what I am gonna do”. She looked at me wondering why I was taking about TV sitcoms. No smile yet. I had to get her smiling by the 5^th line that I spoke. I continued, “We are going to change the channel now to Colors and we will be watching Comedy Nights with Kapil.”

She smiled. It wasn't a broad smile, but a smile nonetheless. She finished her tea and fumbled with her wallet to hand me twenty rupees. I denied. “Please”, she said. What was her fascination with monosyllabic words, I wondered. I pocketed the money without saying anything. I was still waiting for an apology. We started walking toward the bus. I walked a step behind her trying to imagine why she was crying. But I said nothing. She stepped in the bus. I loitered around the bus aimlessly. I lit up another cigarette and started puffing away. After 5 minutes, the driver sounded the horn indicating everyone to get inside. I walked up to my seat. I looked at the seat above me, the curtains were drawn shut. I sat on the seat; my coat was neatly folded and kept near the pillow. It now had a floral scent. I smiled. I was listening to the songs when suddenly, the curtains to my seat opened. It was her peeking in. She pointed to the vacant space on my seat as if to ask if would be ok for her to sit beside me. I nodded.

“Thanks” she says almost whispering. I can barely hear her.

“What for?” I ask, trying to get her to talk. I can’t see her face clearly because it’s dark. Light blue glow radiates from her face because of the overhead light. I turn on the reading light.

“Turn it off… my eyes hurt”, she says. I promptly do so. Ok, so far ‘Thanks’ and ‘Please’ were said, where was the Sorry??? She was nervous sitting there. She had clasped her hands together.

“So, are you ready for Comedy Nights Kapil?” I asked.

“Ok, but first you need to hear me out.” She said. “I am not the cry-baby types. I am usually very strong. But something happened that made me lose control. I was talking to my boy-friend’s uncle. He told me that his parents are not sure about both of us being together.”  I could sense that more tears would flow. I wanted to act like the legendary actor Rajesh Khanna and say, ‘Pushpa, mujhe yeh aansu nahi dekhe jaate, I hate tears’ (Pushpa, I can’t see these tears) and dramatically pull out a handkerchief and offer it to her. But me being a guy, had a handkerchief that was not washed in about 15 days. That was just one part. The other was listening to the words “My Boyfriend”. Trust me readers, the worst statement that you could utter in front of a single guy is – My Boyfriend. Our mind goes into self-destruct mode from there. But I listened as she spoke. Luckily I had a stash of paper napkins. I handed one over to her.

For the next hour she explained her situation. I listened carefully. Her voice was like a lullaby. No, it didn’t put me to sleep. I wanted to listen and listen. She spoke about her college, her family, her boyfriend (which made me a little jealous, I should mention), her aspirations, and her sacrifices. I swear, I had never met a girl like her. In our first interaction, she was sharing intimate things as if we have known each other for a long time. She finally stopped and looked at me. It was either that she had finished taking about everything or her mouth had gone dry.

“Gosh,” she said, “I have been talking about myself for over an hour. Strangely, my mouth has not gone dry. I hope your ears are not bleeding.”

I laughed. She smiled.

“Tell me one thing,” I said, “This is our first interaction. Why did you tell me all this? Maybe I am a murderer who now knows where you stay.”

“Oh Please, what would you do killing such a pretty girl like me? You could maybe kidnap me and make me do all the house-hold work.” She smiled. Wait, was she flirting with me?

“And by the way, this is not our first interaction,” She continued. “It’s our third. The first one was right here in the bus when I stepped on your foot.” Here comes the apology. There was none. “The second was at the café when you offered me your coat and stayed and said nothing. This is the third. By the way, you don’t talk much, do you?”

“I do,” I said, “but today, you didn’t give me a chance.” I winked.

“Ok, your turn. Are you really a murderer? In case you are planning to murder me, just don’t touch my face. It’s quite pretty I have been told.” She said and laughed at her own joke.

“Oh really? Who told you that? Some blind person?” I joked. She suddenly got serious. “Don’t make fun of blind people, my brother is visually impaired,” she said.

“I’m sorry; I can be such an ass sometimes.”  I could not think of anything to say. I stared at the crumpled bed sheet. I looked at her. She was trying very hard not to laugh. But she couldn’t control it any longer. She burst out loud literally rolling on the seat. Her fingers touched my leg. She was still laughing uncontrollably. Tears welled up in her eyes. This time, it was because of all the laughing. I was staring at her like an idiot.

“I’m sorry,” she said trying to regain composure. “You are so gullible. I was just kidding. Just look at you… oh my God!! I’m sorry...!” Yeah right, she was saying sorry for making fun of me, not for stepping on my feet – The Witch!! I burst out laughing too. Still laughing, she placed her hand on mine. It was soft like cotton candy. The urge to hold her hand was maddening. But I didn’t.

 It was about 12:30 AM. All we could hear was the faint engine sound and some loud snoring. Our laughter too was soft.  We chatted till about 6 in the morning. The bus halted for breakfast. We were not sleepy.

“Tea?” I asked her.

“Guys normally ask me out for coffee,” she winked. “But yeah, tea sounds good too. But I will pay.”

“Ok, in that case, let’s have a cheese burst pizza with extra cheese and double extra chicken.” I said. She looked at my protruding happy beer belly but said nothing. We stepped out. It was not that cold. The morning air felt fresh. We sipped our tea amidst few jokes. It was just 4 hours before we reached our destination.

We spoke about lighter topics after we returned. It was like falling in love, only better..!! When we arrived, I walked with her to the auto stand. She took my cell number. I didn’t. I watched her go. She waved out from the moving auto. I looked silly waving at the auto. I got into another auto. She texted me – Hey, thanks. I had a good time. Let meet up soon. Among all the things we talked, I never told you my name. Its “Nisha” J

Post Script: We kept in touch. We used to text a lot everyday. We still do. We never fell in love. She invited me over for her wedding. I attended. She attended mine too. We are almost 60 years old now. My son is dating her daughter. They are planning to get married son. They first met on the bus from Bangalore to Mumbai. And she never apologized for stepping on my feet.