Her eyes kept moving across the station, occasionally checking the movement of the clock hanging at the center of a mildly crescent platform; its hands circulating endlessly. Peeping through the aviators and absorbing the sepia stained scene, her frizzy hair was moving with the afternoon wind. White uniform conductors, petulant passengers and screaming vendors were asynchronously playing their parts in the play. She bent down to tie the laces of her dust smothered sneakers that carried the marks of her journey, longer than a year now! Standing upright, she performed her routine check: bags, wallet, ticket, water.
On the other end, a few buses entered the central gate only to disappoint the anxious passengers ganged up at 32A. Amid this hustle bustle, a conductor gesticulated the mob to move towards the other bus parked to the extreme right. She quickly lined up in the queue and approached her window seat at the center of the Bus. Shuffling all the necessary items in the hand bag, she adjusted her recliner to prepare for the long journey ahead. Gazing at her last sketch, she flashbacked to the crowded serenity of Rishikesh and the people she met. Her eyes, dark with memories that she could neither leave nor hold, would light up sporadically as she turned the pages. As the bus engines geared up, she saw a silhouette climbing in through the steps. He moved towards her; his sleek figure looking much taller in the traditional kurta and hiding his youth. There was something unique about him, but she couldn’t fathom it. She greeted him with a dilettantish smile and pulled down the arm rest. With Beatles playing her favorite score, she got lost in the beauty outside.
When she opened her eyes, evening had fallen over the sky and the wheels were turning speedily on the highway. She looked sideways at her new companion who was busy scribbling some notes in a black diary. It was still an hour before the bus halted for dinner. She removed an old book from her bag, flipped its pages to find the bookmark and resumed her reading.
For about half an hour, her fingers kept travelling through the lines, undeterred by the disturbances on the journey. As her gaze passed over the last two words of the final chapter, a sense of accomplishment overtook her mind. Kirthi, the lead character in the book, eventually found her reason to live after the tragic demise of her family. She felt a sense of victory as if she was the character herself. However, it was quickly relegated by disappointment and longing.
"How did you find the book?"
Her train of thought got interrupted by her, so far, indifferent neighbor. He adjusted his seat to come in line with her inclination.
"Well, It felt real", she replied shortly, emphasizing her reluctance to talk to strangers in bus journey.
"You know what; I think it was descent, but very specific. Such books make us realize how not to waste our time running around artificial things – money, career; to care about human values, most importantly, family and friends - before it’s too late" he replied, ignoring her sullen look.
"And it’s all good, yea, but you will forget about it tomorrow! All you will remember is finishing those chores", he continued, raising his hands in the end to drive home a point, his sharp accent amplifying it.
"Isn't that a common disease with all forms of art? Movies, plays - you are reminded of something so ubiquitous - Time. You still manage to forget it", she spoke, looking directly into his eyes.
"And moreover, this book is not ‘she lived happily ever after’ story. It’s practically impossible after loss of your entire family! She know that happiness is a treasure that she needs to quest for. So she is living every day to find it – fighting and forgetting her past"
"Well, I think that the method was hypothetical. Not many people can leave everything to embark on a journey of self-discovery", he refuted, with an urge to continue the discussion
"Irony is that she had nothing left to lose. Have you ever lost anyone so close?" she spoke gazing at the ring on her right index finger.
There was a deep silence and nobody spoke for a while.
"I am Kabir by the way" he made an abrupt comeback moving his hand forward.
"Hi, It's Shambhavi", she returned the gesture, barely catching hold of his name.
"Lone traveler?” he asked in an amused tone.
"Well-ehhh" Her answer got interrupted by a loud announcement by the conductor. The bus slowed down near a roadside restaurant and the passengers started moving out for dinner.
"Would you like some company for dinner?" he asked blatantly.
"Sure", she replied after pausing for a few seconds. When was the last time she had dinner with a total stranger on a bus journey! She got intrigued by this young man and grabbed her bag before walking towards the exit.
For next one hour they talked about everything around the world. Music was the ice breaker and since they had a similar music taste, he recommended her a few new bands. Politics got heated up with their contrary views and her vast experience in governance drubbed his retaliations. He had witty observations and creative punch lines for everything and she ended up laughing her breath out. His voice enhanced his erudite persona but his looks gave away his age.
As the bus signaled to get back on the road, they anchored back to their seats and resumed their conversation.
"So, you travel often?
"Well, I am not a traveler but I have been on the road for more than a year now"
"Seriously!” his jumped on his seat
"Ahmm", she gave back an unenthusiastic nod.
"That's crazy! Wow! Freaking crazy! - Where all have you been?"
“Hmm, let see. I visited a few religious cities in north, then I was in Himalaya's for a few months, stayed in Calcutta after that - Since past 2 months, I was in Rishikesh", she spelled out her travel memoir.
"That is a lot of going around! Wow! So, what do you do in all of these places?"
"Honestly, I dint know what to do initially. I wandered around without a purpose. Then one fine day, I saw a small girl, dressed in a white gilded sari, getting amused by the tintinnabulation of her own anklets. She was oblivious to everything around her. So I sketched her. Since then, I try to capture such moments everywhere I go"
"That's very artistic. Can I have a look?" he leaned forward with a genuine interest.
"Well, they are just rough images. Not that great", she politely refused the request.
"Hey Hey Hey, let me decide that", he replied with a wink.
She gave in to his demand and handed him a folder carrying few canvas sheets, packed in an unorganized fashion. Adjusting the black square frame resting over his poking nose, he kept brooding over black and grey lines clubbed together to form descriptive images, occasionally enquiring about the source of image and other finer details.
"All I have to say is that you have got some talent", he declared in the end. “Best one is the little girl who got you started"
"Thank you Sir!" she uttered perching back on her seat and then tilted her face inquisitively towards him.
"I never asked what you were doing in Rishikesh",
"Ahhh - I was scared that you would ask me that"
"Why so?”
“Well it’s like this. I felt like finding my inspiration. So I took a sabbatical and came down to this holy town"
"That is uncommon at your age. I was all pumped up about my career, my aim in life and travelling"
"Hey, how old do you think I am?" he replied mischievously. But before she could amend her comment, he cut her off
"Just kidding, let’s just say that I am also an artist like you who is lost"
"Ohh, what is your David, Michelangelo", she added in a humorous tone.
"I am trying to write this story. I don’t know where is it, but I know it’s near, if you understand"
"I have never written anything, but I do feel it sometimes with faces I see and have an urge to capture, but cannot draw a shade once I get unto it” she spoke raising her eyebrows, then added
“So, did Rishikesh bring out the writer in you?"
"I don’t know about that, but it certainly brought out the stoner in me!" he casted a serious look.
A few moments later they both busted into laughter. It was short lived as fellow passengers started hushing at them to mellow down their tone. She peeped at her watch and it was almost midnight. Fatigue suddenly overtook her voice and she decided to call it a night.
For next five hours, the bus kept hacking through the dense fog outside. Spasmodically, a flash of light from the window would light up her face and then get chocked up by the darkness. Suddenly, a steep curve around the road pushed her on the adjacent seat and woke her up. Gathering herself back to her seat, she meekly apologized. She attempted to catch back some rest, but it betrayed her.
"Unable to sleep?" he murmured turning towards her side, loud enough to be audible.
"Never been a sound sleeper. You awake too?"
"I haven't slept well in months. You see, until I get my story out on paper"
"Hmm…"
"If you don’t mind, I wanted to ask. Do you think Kirthi’s method can work? Can it possibly revoke the inheritance of loss?"
"I don’t know. I am still experimenting", she turned her head towards his side.
"I am sorry about that. Was it someone very close to you?", he asked cautiously
"We were married for 5 years. It wasn't perfect and I had so many doubts. But ever since he's gone, all I feel is that he was the best. I wish I could live back those moments with him and correct myself", she reflected in disappointment.
"So that's why you are travelling? - Documenting people who went through similar pain - like Kirthi?”
"Yes and No. I am a Forrest Officer and I always wanted to go around the country. After marriage, shifting was difficult, so I procrastinated my plans. Then life hit me and for a year I was numb. Past memories imbued every moment of my life. I went to a lot of therapy and yoga to get out of it”
“Did it help?”
“It helped me to at least go back to my old house and look at the home we built together. Around then, I also started reading a lot. I accidently came across this book and it felt like my own story. It gave me a way, though unpromising, to heal myself. So I left for a month long journey” she took a pause and then exhaled “Haven't been able to go back since then"
"I know how it feels. It took me two years to accept my sister wouldn’t be around anymore. I was in my first job. So I buried myself in lines and lines of code. It helped me to temporarily forget the fact and not dial her number", he added looking upwards, imagining her face on the ceiling of the bus.
"It would have been tough!” she apologized
“When I sketch, I only think of the person I am creating. It helps me cut those strings that pull me back to the past. I am getting better at it"
"What are you going to do next?" he looked concerned.
"I can’t travel aimlessly forever. I am going back to work in few days. I will be visiting sanctuaries across the country and capture new faces. I am starting to dream again", as she spoke, he could feel hope in her voice that relaxed his own nerves.
Morning started to send its missionaries through the sky and dew drops were crawling down the window. She slid it aside and moved out her head, inhaling the fresh breeze caressing her cheeks. They were on the outer check post of the city and passengers started packing their belongings. After few turns, the bus entered a small deserted structure and parked in the center space.
"So...that's it! I am getting down at this stop” He got up from his seat and started gathering his belongings.
“I hope that you will find your silver lining", he said leaning on the side seat.
"I hope that too. It was nice meeting you. Wish you best of luck with your story. I will be waiting to read it."
"Yea definitely. It will be pretty cool to get it published", he chuckled. "If you don’t mind, can I keep that portrait - the little girl?"
"Sure", she replied bemused. Folding a worn out sheet in the newspaper, she pushed it in his side bag.
"I shall be seeing more of your portraits soon" he said, shaking her hand gently with a mystique smile and handing down his card. He then turned around, placed his travel bag above the suitcase and walked away, strolling the wheels. She kept looking at him as he disappeared around the corner.
A though ran into her head and she knew he had beautiful eyes, childlike and engaging. She turned his card and it spelled -
KABIR CHANDRA
Cypress Semiconductors
She thought she had heard this name before, a lot of it! After thinking for few minutes, it drew upon her. She turned the book in her hand and read the writers description. Stunned, she promptly looked out from the window and saw him receding in the background. The young man who made her embark on her journey to life, without even knowing it. In the pleasant morning, her cheeks turned cherry white as she glanced at the half torn book in her palms and murmured – “I will sketch his eyes”
When she opened her eyes, evening had fallen over the sky and the wheels were turning speedily on the highway. She looked sideways at her new companion who was busy scribbling some notes in a black diary. It was still an hour before the bus halted for dinner. She removed an old book from her bag, flipped its pages to find the bookmark and resumed her reading.
For about half an hour, her fingers kept travelling through the lines, undeterred by the disturbances on the journey. As her gaze passed over the last two words of the final chapter, a sense of accomplishment overtook her mind. Kirthi, the lead character in the book, eventually found her reason to live after the tragic demise of her family. She felt a sense of victory as if she was the character herself. However, it was quickly relegated by disappointment and longing.
"How did you find the book?"
Her train of thought got interrupted by her, so far, indifferent neighbor. He adjusted his seat to come in line with her inclination.
"Well, It felt real", she replied shortly, emphasizing her reluctance to talk to strangers in bus journey.
"You know what; I think it was descent, but very specific. Such books make us realize how not to waste our time running around artificial things – money, career; to care about human values, most importantly, family and friends - before it’s too late" he replied, ignoring her sullen look.
"And it’s all good, yea, but you will forget about it tomorrow! All you will remember is finishing those chores", he continued, raising his hands in the end to drive home a point, his sharp accent amplifying it.
"Isn't that a common disease with all forms of art? Movies, plays - you are reminded of something so ubiquitous - Time. You still manage to forget it", she spoke, looking directly into his eyes.
"And moreover, this book is not ‘she lived happily ever after’ story. It’s practically impossible after loss of your entire family! She know that happiness is a treasure that she needs to quest for. So she is living every day to find it – fighting and forgetting her past"
"Well, I think that the method was hypothetical. Not many people can leave everything to embark on a journey of self-discovery", he refuted, with an urge to continue the discussion
"Irony is that she had nothing left to lose. Have you ever lost anyone so close?" she spoke gazing at the ring on her right index finger.
There was a deep silence and nobody spoke for a while.
"I am Kabir by the way" he made an abrupt comeback moving his hand forward.
"Hi, It's Shambhavi", she returned the gesture, barely catching hold of his name.
"Lone traveler?” he asked in an amused tone.
"Well-ehhh" Her answer got interrupted by a loud announcement by the conductor. The bus slowed down near a roadside restaurant and the passengers started moving out for dinner.
"Would you like some company for dinner?" he asked blatantly.
"Sure", she replied after pausing for a few seconds. When was the last time she had dinner with a total stranger on a bus journey! She got intrigued by this young man and grabbed her bag before walking towards the exit.
For next one hour they talked about everything around the world. Music was the ice breaker and since they had a similar music taste, he recommended her a few new bands. Politics got heated up with their contrary views and her vast experience in governance drubbed his retaliations. He had witty observations and creative punch lines for everything and she ended up laughing her breath out. His voice enhanced his erudite persona but his looks gave away his age.
As the bus signaled to get back on the road, they anchored back to their seats and resumed their conversation.
"So, you travel often?
"Well, I am not a traveler but I have been on the road for more than a year now"
"Seriously!” his jumped on his seat
"Ahmm", she gave back an unenthusiastic nod.
"That's crazy! Wow! Freaking crazy! - Where all have you been?"
“Hmm, let see. I visited a few religious cities in north, then I was in Himalaya's for a few months, stayed in Calcutta after that - Since past 2 months, I was in Rishikesh", she spelled out her travel memoir.
"That is a lot of going around! Wow! So, what do you do in all of these places?"
"Honestly, I dint know what to do initially. I wandered around without a purpose. Then one fine day, I saw a small girl, dressed in a white gilded sari, getting amused by the tintinnabulation of her own anklets. She was oblivious to everything around her. So I sketched her. Since then, I try to capture such moments everywhere I go"
"That's very artistic. Can I have a look?" he leaned forward with a genuine interest.
"Well, they are just rough images. Not that great", she politely refused the request.
"Hey Hey Hey, let me decide that", he replied with a wink.
She gave in to his demand and handed him a folder carrying few canvas sheets, packed in an unorganized fashion. Adjusting the black square frame resting over his poking nose, he kept brooding over black and grey lines clubbed together to form descriptive images, occasionally enquiring about the source of image and other finer details.
"All I have to say is that you have got some talent", he declared in the end. “Best one is the little girl who got you started"
"Thank you Sir!" she uttered perching back on her seat and then tilted her face inquisitively towards him.
"I never asked what you were doing in Rishikesh",
"Ahhh - I was scared that you would ask me that"
"Why so?”
“Well it’s like this. I felt like finding my inspiration. So I took a sabbatical and came down to this holy town"
"That is uncommon at your age. I was all pumped up about my career, my aim in life and travelling"
"Hey, how old do you think I am?" he replied mischievously. But before she could amend her comment, he cut her off
"Just kidding, let’s just say that I am also an artist like you who is lost"
"Ohh, what is your David, Michelangelo", she added in a humorous tone.
"I am trying to write this story. I don’t know where is it, but I know it’s near, if you understand"
"I have never written anything, but I do feel it sometimes with faces I see and have an urge to capture, but cannot draw a shade once I get unto it” she spoke raising her eyebrows, then added
“So, did Rishikesh bring out the writer in you?"
"I don’t know about that, but it certainly brought out the stoner in me!" he casted a serious look.
A few moments later they both busted into laughter. It was short lived as fellow passengers started hushing at them to mellow down their tone. She peeped at her watch and it was almost midnight. Fatigue suddenly overtook her voice and she decided to call it a night.
For next five hours, the bus kept hacking through the dense fog outside. Spasmodically, a flash of light from the window would light up her face and then get chocked up by the darkness. Suddenly, a steep curve around the road pushed her on the adjacent seat and woke her up. Gathering herself back to her seat, she meekly apologized. She attempted to catch back some rest, but it betrayed her.
"Unable to sleep?" he murmured turning towards her side, loud enough to be audible.
"Never been a sound sleeper. You awake too?"
"I haven't slept well in months. You see, until I get my story out on paper"
"Hmm…"
"If you don’t mind, I wanted to ask. Do you think Kirthi’s method can work? Can it possibly revoke the inheritance of loss?"
"I don’t know. I am still experimenting", she turned her head towards his side.
"I am sorry about that. Was it someone very close to you?", he asked cautiously
"We were married for 5 years. It wasn't perfect and I had so many doubts. But ever since he's gone, all I feel is that he was the best. I wish I could live back those moments with him and correct myself", she reflected in disappointment.
"So that's why you are travelling? - Documenting people who went through similar pain - like Kirthi?”
"Yes and No. I am a Forrest Officer and I always wanted to go around the country. After marriage, shifting was difficult, so I procrastinated my plans. Then life hit me and for a year I was numb. Past memories imbued every moment of my life. I went to a lot of therapy and yoga to get out of it”
“Did it help?”
“It helped me to at least go back to my old house and look at the home we built together. Around then, I also started reading a lot. I accidently came across this book and it felt like my own story. It gave me a way, though unpromising, to heal myself. So I left for a month long journey” she took a pause and then exhaled “Haven't been able to go back since then"
"I know how it feels. It took me two years to accept my sister wouldn’t be around anymore. I was in my first job. So I buried myself in lines and lines of code. It helped me to temporarily forget the fact and not dial her number", he added looking upwards, imagining her face on the ceiling of the bus.
"It would have been tough!” she apologized
“When I sketch, I only think of the person I am creating. It helps me cut those strings that pull me back to the past. I am getting better at it"
"What are you going to do next?" he looked concerned.
"I can’t travel aimlessly forever. I am going back to work in few days. I will be visiting sanctuaries across the country and capture new faces. I am starting to dream again", as she spoke, he could feel hope in her voice that relaxed his own nerves.
Morning started to send its missionaries through the sky and dew drops were crawling down the window. She slid it aside and moved out her head, inhaling the fresh breeze caressing her cheeks. They were on the outer check post of the city and passengers started packing their belongings. After few turns, the bus entered a small deserted structure and parked in the center space.
"So...that's it! I am getting down at this stop” He got up from his seat and started gathering his belongings.
“I hope that you will find your silver lining", he said leaning on the side seat.
"I hope that too. It was nice meeting you. Wish you best of luck with your story. I will be waiting to read it."
"Yea definitely. It will be pretty cool to get it published", he chuckled. "If you don’t mind, can I keep that portrait - the little girl?"
"Sure", she replied bemused. Folding a worn out sheet in the newspaper, she pushed it in his side bag.
"I shall be seeing more of your portraits soon" he said, shaking her hand gently with a mystique smile and handing down his card. He then turned around, placed his travel bag above the suitcase and walked away, strolling the wheels. She kept looking at him as he disappeared around the corner.
A though ran into her head and she knew he had beautiful eyes, childlike and engaging. She turned his card and it spelled -
KABIR CHANDRA
Cypress Semiconductors
She thought she had heard this name before, a lot of it! After thinking for few minutes, it drew upon her. She turned the book in her hand and read the writers description. Stunned, she promptly looked out from the window and saw him receding in the background. The young man who made her embark on her journey to life, without even knowing it. In the pleasant morning, her cheeks turned cherry white as she glanced at the half torn book in her palms and murmured – “I will sketch his eyes”