Neglected Station - The Life Changer

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 15; the fifteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Rain. Isn’t it a awe-inspiring occurrence? I love the drizzle and all aspects of it. I love getting drenched in the rain, traveling in the rain even though everybody I know seems to complain about it. It was one such rainy day. The company said they will provide me car back home but I decided to take the train. After all it was only a three hour journey to the lovely deserted station. Though it was a last minute request from me they managed to get me the tickets. As I sat in the Santro that was me driving to the station I wondered why I decided to take the train, one of those impulsive decisions based on some insane gut feeling. I looked out the closed windows only to see nothing as water drops covered the glass .I grabbed my phone and the voice brought me a smile.

By the time I reached the door to my compartment I was drenched, the downpour was heavy. It was like the water that had filled the skies to the brim wanted to just burst to its liberty today, dance in the open air, cleanse the cities and bring a smile to me. I entered the train and was making my way through the rows to my seat when my eyes saw him. The emotion that filled me is unexplainable. He saw me too. He seemed confident of what to do as he came forward towards me with a smile. That smile. I had almost forgotten it but yet it seemed so much a part of me. Though the air was nippy and I was cold from the wetness in my skin, his smile brought me warmth, the warmth which he had given me all those years suddenly glowed in my heart. Though after a few seconds, I smiled back and made my way to him. We shook hands, almost hugged. Then, silence for a few moments.

“Here, let me take that!” he said. He took my medium-sized traveling bag from my hand and placed it on the luggage rack. As I found my seat I found out that he was sitting right opposite me. The insane gut feeling. After I settled on to my seat, he sat opposite me and we smiled. “It’s been so long! How are you?”. He replied,”Good. I recently met Shailu and she filled me in on most of you.” I said,”Oh, Shailu does have contacts with most from our class.”
As we talked on about what we were doing ,what everybody else we knew was doing I realized how comfortable this was, how easy this felt. I had imagined meeting him again and I had played out this scene a 1000 times in my head but never did I imagine it will be so easy, so simple, despite of our history, of the fact that it has been five years since we broke up.

We met in the beautiful campus of St.Peter’s. He was a year senior to me. But our similar passions brought us together in many a clubs and associations. Always on the same squad but always skirmishing about how to implement ideas we both agreed on. Most of the times we will work together and come up with the most wonderful concepts, only to end up fighting on some trivial matter about the execution. Similar thoughts but different styles was the point. Through all of this, somewhere along the way, we had fallen in love. And we didn’t even have to say it to each other it was just something that we both realized. We became part of each other.

The conversation carried on as the rain lashed out on the closed windows. Suddenly, the smile on his face brightened and he got up. He moved as she came and took the seat right opposite to mine. He sat next to her. She was beautiful and they looked very good together. Though I figured she was, when he introduced her as his wife my heart paced up. She had a warm genuine smile, the kind that will make you feel good no matter what.
I said I hadn’t known he was married and congratulated them. I sounded truly excited and happy.

The three of us talked. She told me about their meeting and marriage and I told her about him in college. He listened, correcting facts, denying my stories. It was a pleasant conversation that was picking up just as the train was picking up speed. As I watched them I suddenly thought I would have maybe I should have, been in her place. If things hadn’t changed the way they did I would have been his wife. But looking at them made me realize how perfect this is. They were lovely together; they looked like they were in love and they were.

We were lovely together. Everyone knew about us. Everyone thought we will be the couple to make it to the forever category. We looked like we were in love everyday for the four years we were together, one year of which he was in a city far away. We made that work, a long distance relationship between a final year student and a busy new trainee. On the day of my farewell party he came down and surprised me. He took me to the lonely station near our college and proposed to me. He promised me in words the forever I knew he promised with his heart all these years. And I said NO!

As the rain continued despite the train moving through new towns with isolated stations so did our words and my thoughts. He had introduced me to his wife as a college mate, but I think she knew. There was a smile on my face that was sincere. I was happy for him. But there was also a pain in my heart. As silly as it was to me, suddenly, all I wanted to do was scream and cry out loud. The tears came close to bursting out the confines of their glands but some force stopped them. I played with my ring, looked out of the window, looked at the small kid trying to eat his sandwich but my eyes wandered back to them and my mind was swept back to the twin thoughts.

As I said it was only a three hour journey. In no time my stop was there .As the train pulled into abandoned station he helped me with my bag to the door. Before, I had told my bye-bye’s to her and asked them to keep in touch, hoping in my heart that they did not. The train stopped and I got down .He got down with me and handed me my bag. As we stood, face to face , my eyes finally gave way to those tears .He hugged me. A second later the guards whistle started screeching and he got back on the train. With that warm smile of his, he waved and I waved back hoping that this moment does not repeat once again. An insane gut feeling telling me it will not.

He was stunned. He looked blank as I tried to figure out what I had just said. After I said NO, I had given him an explanation of sorts as to why I made this choice and I know it made no sense to him because it didn’t make sense to me. It had been raining that night and after hearing me out he had looked at me and smiled. That was what I didn’t need then and the tears flowed out as suddenly as the rain stopped. He got up, hugged me. As the horn of some car screamed, breaking the silence that surrounded us, he left me. Held my hand for a second smiled that smile of his and walked out. Leaving me alone with this decision I had made based on some insane gut feeling in the same lonely station where we once walked with our hands bundled together.

I stood in that pouring rain. The water seeping through my clothes and was clinging to myself. My hand held that wooden bench in the corner of the desolate railway station, which was getting sopping in the water. If you were to hold your palm out and

catch the water that dripped off my face. If you were to pour a drop of it down your throat, the saltiness in it would be evident. The tears were pouring with a fury greater than the rain. The train made its way out of the station. The tears stopped flowing. It was like my senses had taken a break The rain had also softened to a drizzle. As I stood there watching the now distant train I felt a hand on my shoulders. And there he was with this smile of his. I hugged him and whispered ‘I missed you, I need you and above all I Love You’. A soft voice whispered back, ”I love you too”.

I came back to reality and saw the girl next to him, his wife. He understood my quizzical look and giggled. He muttered, “Shivani (that's me), meet Kaajal, my colleague and part of the drama enacted to get my love back”. I smiled and punched his arms. We walked out of the station, hand in hand. And I felt warm . I felt the glow inside my heart that has been there for the last one year I have been married to him. An insane gut feeling also lead to this decision .The rain drizzled on, making someone complain, and bringing a smile to me. My life was changed once again, in the same Deserted/Neglected Station.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective postscan be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

With Love,

55 Fiction - #36

Everyone knows about 55Fiction I guess! 55 Fiction is a form of micro fiction that refers to the works of fiction limited to a maximum of fifty-five words. Most 55 Fiction works are dramatized so as to get the effect in limited time.

A MESSAGE

Shailu thought of writing a review later. The man sitting beside, sighed "Goooood Filmmmm".

She must be prepared for the next show. The SMS read, "Mike gave this no. Rs.4550"

She replied, "Fine. Wait outside"

Wiping her mouth, retouching the gloss, she came out. In the blinding daylight her father's face sent her reeling.

So how was it? Liked my fiction? Drop a comment :-)

With Love,

55 Fiction - #35

It has been a long long time since I tried my hands with 55Fiction. Leo, the amateur poet wanted me to write a 55ficion for a long time! And now his wish is going to get satisfied.

Everyone knows about 55Fiction I guess! 55 Fiction is a form of micro fiction that refers to the works of fiction limited to a maximum of fifty-five words. Most 55 Fiction works are dramatized so as to get the effect in limited time.

The Irony

He sat alone in the corner, tears streaming down his face.
His wife died this morning, leaving behind a month old son.
At a distance, the ring of the bell followed by a deafening applause registered in his ears.
He put on the mask and thought - "Life is not always funny as a circus clown".

So how was it? Liked my fiction? Drop a comment :-)

With Love,

Return

Hey Thank you so much everyone for making me the BATOM!! No words to describe the moment!

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 14; the fourteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

She walked in, hair swaying in the wind, eyes glancing across the half crowded coffee shop, with a bunch of red roses gripped tightly in her hands. A cat whistle shrilled from across the table where she rested her grip on the flowers. A couple of gawky teenagers couldn’t hide their excitement and let their jaw drop (along with the glass of cold coffee) at the sight of the flower girl. She looked up, sharp eyes, lined with kajal, the type that makes the eyes look even more expressive than how it is on a lazy Sunday morning. On second thoughts, the morning face, Sunday or otherwise always wins ‘pants down’.

The flowers found a place on the table and one got to see her fingers, beautifully manicured, the ones that would have experienced the choicest of creams, lotions and moisturizers, the ones that always smelt fresh and felt divine. The ones that were always not too far from sanitizers. The ones that had mehendi on them? Ah! She is married. About to be married? Or her friend just got married. Yes. That should be the case. Phew! That’s a relief.

She sat down at a table that could accommodate only two people. She is expecting company. The electricity just went off, thanks to the heavy rain. A few drops of rain cascaded down her forehead and fell on the table. She carefully took a tissue from her bag (didn’t even bother looking at the pile of tissues folded and placed on the table in a triangular shape by the waiters) and wiped her face, gently, not ruining the kajal. My heart skips another beat. She folds the tissue and places them next to the flowers.

“I’m there”, she said on the phone, that seemed to have magically sprung out of her bag and planted itself to her ears, when the mind was too busy deciding on her relationship status.
“Oh! Another half hour? Shit”, she cursed. The lips seemed so pure, so bright and so sensuous, that one could never expect words other than love, peace, hope, and bliss, let alone profanity. Those lips were meant for kissing, to be kissed than curse. It looked like a painting, perfect, symmetric, orgasmic with the blood red of her lipstick, like the painters final signature.
The waiter walks up to her table and places a candle and she smiles at him. It’s his lucky day. He walks away and she lights the candle with her lighter. The candle light falls on her face and the heart skips another beat. Her eyes shine. The light keeps shifting, thanks to the wind; it plays a pattern on her face. Her nose ring twinkles. The light is blinding, making me turn my gaze away from her for just a moment.

She is trying to catch the attention of the waiter. Unaware that she has everybody’s attention. She does realize it. She signals him to get her a hot cappuccino; you could see her pinky sticking out, while she signaled. The coffee arrives in what felt like milliseconds. She looked awkward trying to open the sachet of sugar to add to her coffee. She spills some on the table-the coffee and the sugar. She looked up to see if someone saw her clumsiness.

Her eyes met mine. I smiled. She was still for a moment before a gentle smile escaped her lips. The candle light was playing tricks. The light and shadow was just too much to handle. I gently nodded my head to greet her. She hesitantly waved back.

I went back to scribble on the tissue paper, the one I had in front of me from the moment I came into the coffee shop. I wanted to write something. In fact I wanted to just keep writing. I had something to write about.

The coffee shop began filling up. The rain was getting heavier and water was dripping from the roof above. People were trying to squeeze into any available space. Tables looked crowded. Privacy could be forgotten. At least till the rain stopped. The air smelt wet. The voices became loud and conversations from every table could be heard clearly. No one went near her table. She still stood out. Alone, beautiful and mesmerizing.

Ever so often, I looked up to see her. I just couldn’t stop. I would then smile to myself and then get back to writing. My coffee was getting cold, partly due to the weather and mostly because I never bothered to drink it.

“What? You’re stuck? It’s pouring here and what do you want me to do?” she spoke on the phone once again. Frustration was written all over her forehead. I could see the lines forming on her clear face. She shook her head and disconnected the call. And I’m certain I heard her swear one last time before hanging up the call.

She glanced towards the flowers that were on the table. She picked up a tissue and began scribbling something. A note I thought. She tucked the note to the flowers and called the waiter. She handed him the flowers and said something, the waiter nodded. He went back to the cash counter, carefully holding the flowers. She took a final sip of her coffee and got up, hand held over her head to protect her from the rain and strode out as briskly as she had come in just a while ago.

My heart skipped another beat. Do I go behind her? Maybe just talk to her? Would I be seeing her again? Questions flooded my brain. I was snapped out of my trance by the waiter.
“Sir, that madam asked me to give these to you”, he said handing me the flowers.
“Would love to read what you have written about me. Coffee tomorrow at 4?” it read with a smiley at the end.

My head really swirled that moment. I stared the lines I wrote in the tissue paper which had kindled her curiosity. It simply read, "Will she Return?". I smiled to myself.

Indeed it was a RETURN that is going to change my life.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

With Love,