The Missing Link

 Am I missing something?” 

 

In last one hour this was the 3^rd time when he asked the same question to self. 

Chinmoy's flight to Mumbai was scheduled at 9.30 am and it’s already 7:30. Getting an Uber / Ola just in time is kinda dream in Kolkata. Already a couple of them said "jabona" to him. Now he was  frantically looking for a cab. Thank God! One of those typical ‘kol special all yellow’ cab was crawling in. 

‘Dada! Airport jaabe?’.  (Will you go to airport?) and without waiting for the driver’s answer, he went inside the washed out vehicle.

 

The driver gave a smirk and said ‘tinso ponchas taka lagbe’. (350 bucks) 

 

‘What!! The airport is hardly 4 kms from here...c’mon. It comes 80-85 bucks if you go as per the meter. There is a height of cheating. Why don’t you guys go and loot a bank? Well, on the top of it; I will give 20 bucks extra. That’s the maximum am gonna pay you, not a single paisa more than 100.'

 

He was almost stepping out of the taxi, again the driver said ‘meter cholchhe na, duesho taka din, aar kono kotha noy. Deal' ! (sir…meter is not working, give me 200 bucks, that’s the last price). Huh! Now these taxies have also a quote and 'deal-closure' price!

 

Chinmoy looked at his watch, ‘its 7.50 now…let’s not argue with this guy for the sake of saving 100 rupees. I should not miss the flight’. He murmured and sat in. ‘Ok…I will pay you 200, but just switch on your meter, let me see what’s the exact fare from here to the airport’. The driver gave a cynical look, though he didn't look convinced; yet he nodded his head and said ‘yes’ to this proposal.

 

Again he started thinking…’what is missing, I guess I have lost something’. He scanned his handbag and the check-in bag again. Nope, everything seems to be fine and intact. 

All of a sudden the driver said ‘dekhoon dada, apni bolchhilen airport 4 km door, meter ki bolchhe dekhoon..  praye 5 km chole eschhi aar ekhono 2 km baaki.'Ae taxi ta amar sab diner byapar, ami tomake mithhe kotha keno bolbo?’.

(sir you were saying that the airport is 4 kms from Lake town. See what the meter is showing now. We have traveled almost 5 kms and yet 2 more kms to go. I drive this taxi everyday on the same road, so why should I tell you a lie?)

 

‘It’s ok…my mistake, don’t worry…will pay you the amount which I have promised’, he replied to the driver. Finally they reached at the airport, it was quarter to nine. Perfect! He reached on time. The meter showed 165 bucks. However, he paid 200, i.e. the committed amount, thanked the driver and hurried up towards the departure terminal A7.

 

‘Ek minute dada...ekhane ekhane!' He saw the same cab driver was calling him. ‘Now what? Might ask for more money as he landed me over here on time… gosh!'

'Dada, apni headphone gari te chhere diechhen. Taratari korle erokom i hobe.. ekhon jaan, noyto flight miss hoe jaabe'.

 

(sir, you have had left your earphone in my cab. If you move so fast, you will keep on missing things just like this. Now go, else you will miss the flight.)

Chinmoy plugged in the earphones and a beautiful track was on…”Stay gone”; a masterpiece by Jimmy Wayne…

 

I found piece of mind I'm feeling good again
I'm on the other side
Back among the living
Ain't a cloud in the sky
All my tears have been cried
And I can finally say…
I know everything's gonna be okay
If you just stay gone…

 

He smiled as now he realised what was missing... :)

 

 

 

 

The Traveler, Oasis and the Mirage (Part - II)

Chinmoy reached at C-505. 

Suruchi: Hey..hi. 

C: Where is aunty? Let’s go and have lunch together. 

S: She had been waiting for you since morning. A while ago mom left for a relative’s place. She would be back by 5.  

 C: Hmm. Am also not that hungry. Let’s open the sweet box. ☺ 

Suruchi : Yeah. By the way, it is with Naina. But are you sure that you do not want to meet Naina?

C: Hmm…ooo…ok. Is she here?

S: She is inside. Go and talk to her…finally!

Chinmoy went in. Naina was busy in packing her books. She gave a fleeting look at him, ignored and then again kept herself busy in packing. Oh! What an arrogant girl! Chinmoy thought.

 

C: Hi Naina. Hmm…came to know that you are leaving tonight. And yeah...Congratulations for your job. Initial posting will be at Bangalore right? Cool yaar! Umm…I mean that place is cool. The weather is good too. Also the people are! I mean to say that…that…ok…leave it. How’s Duggu doing? (Her brother) oops! How are your parents? Are they coming to pick you up today?

 

Naina: Mr. Enough! Can’t you see how messy the place is? Are you going to help me with packing and yes…stop conducting my stress interview.

 

C: Yes, yes...sorry for asking too many questions at a time. No problem. Give me that carton…No, that bigger one and some tape. Let me pack the books first. 

 

It almost took 3 hrs to pack the entire things. There was a pin-drop silence. Even Suruchi wanted to say something but Naina gave her a glare. So she dared not to speak!

 

C: I guess everything is done. Cool! I already have booked a cab to drop both of you at the railway station. Girls, get ready, the cab would be here by 7.30 pm. 

N: Ok. Anything else?

C: No…yes, the sweets. The packet that Suru’s mom brought. She mentioned that it’s with you.

N: It’s there on my study table. Pick that while you leave.

C: Naina…we have enough time for tea. Can we go to canteen as I don’t know when and where we would meet up next. 

N: Ok. You go ahead, let me take a shower; would join you in 15 mins.

The Rain

It was the afternoon of December 31st. The weather was fine in the morning, but then one could see some dark clouds around.  It started raining. In Mumbai, usually, there is no rain after august; at times assumptions and this City of Lights don’t go in parallel. 

“Let me take a quick coffee break”. With this thought Chinmoy got out of his cubicle and proceeded towards the coffee vending machine. He put his hand over one of the gigantic glass windows and felt the chillness of rain drops. He started thinking about his school days.  During monsoon, in spite of his protests; mother forcibly used to put a raincoat in his bag; but he loved to dance in rain, enjoying every single drop of the shower.  It was raining on the day when he had stepped out of home for higher studies. New place…unfamiliar faces and gloomy environment. Everything was new for him except the much adored rain. Many a time he had enjoyed this rain with his close pals. Well…it has been quite some time since she had left too…but not this rain. Chinmoy was getting poignant about the rain.

 “Hey”

He looked back and found Sonal; his boss.

Sonal: Hey…you are still here? C’mon, it’s new year eve, you should go for a party.

Chinmoy: Sure, am leaving in some time.

S: Do you want me to drop you somewhere as it’s raining outside?

C: Thanks a lot Sonal. You please go ahead, I have some urgent deliverables, will leave in sometime… wish you a very happy new year in advance.

S: Chill dude…you need a break, anyway, happy new year…Bye.

By 6 PM, two rounds of showers were over; the sky looked bit clearer. He looked around. One by one people started stepping out of the office…hardly 20 odd people had came today.  All were quite eager to set off to their homes. A ha…The rain had stopped finally! Everyone seems to be pretty excited about a kick off party. 

He went back to his seat, closed his laptop and stepped out of his office. As such, there was no specific New Year plan in his mind. “Going home and taking some rest would be a nice idea” he thought and moved towards a cab standing nearby.

The rain had created an artificial pool in the office lawn. Instead of moving towards the cab stand, he went to the lawn. It was dark, the street lights had been switched on. But the one next to the lawn was blinking, might be some technical problem. Rather it seemed as if it was trying hard to state his presence. He sat near the kind of ‘disturbed’ light post to remove his shoes and stepped down into the lawn.

During his childhood, Chinmoy used to build paper boats; each of them sketched in bright shades with small quotes written all-over and kept at least a dozen of them ready for a rainy day. Now he wished to craft a boat and float the same in the small pool which was in front of him. 

“Have you gone insane Chinmoy? Well at times it’s nice be irrational…“ 

He searched in his backpack for a piece of paper. Huh…not a single sheet of paper inside. He looked gloomy, but all of a sudden his face looked as vivid as that of a mischievous child. He got two pages which had been travelling with him since last Jan, a copy of ‘her’ resume. Well, she was well-placed and doing well in her life. Those pages won’t be required any more. Chinmoy started making a boat. It seemed that all his origami skills had faded along with time. Somehow he managed to make one; though not at par with the ones which he used to make. He floated them in the stream.

“Who’s there…am asking who’s there”… someone shouted from the back. 

A shadow came closer and closer; then a whistle blew…Oh! It was the security guard. He was confused and said : "Sir, aap? kuch gir gaya kya? Oh aapke shoes, paani main gir gaya kya? Let me find them”.

“No problem Bahadur…it’s ok, I was taking a round and don’t worry about the shoes, they are at my cabin. Thank you”. 

The security in-charge left with a semi-confused state. 

Chinmoy kept on looking at the boat till it disappeared amid the murk. He knew everyone would leave him, except this rain...

The Traveler, Oasis and the Mirage (Part - I)

It was the day after convocation. Chinmoy was busy in packing as the next day he had to move out of the campus. Last few hours had been heart-wrenching as seeing-off buddies was not so easy. Most of his batchmates had already vacated their hostels.

 

He stopped for a while and looked around. Oh yes, that’s the famed PDP point. Huh! Ragging was never a part of their life; it was PDP…a series of Personality Development Programmes :) . It was the place where he had been ‘pdp’ized right through the first semester. It was fun. However at the beginning of 2^nd year he was at the other side of the court. Per se…there was no noteworthy turnaround; except a suffix ‘Sir’ added up to his name. Chinu had been upgraded to ‘Chinu sir’. 

 

Two years ago we all started out as strangers, became friends, and then ended up as buddies. A few became temporal parts of life so when they leave, one would feel nothing but excruciating pain because they have plunged too deep. At this juncture, it became a struggle to let people go as we all have had history, treasured memories for life. Yet one had to see off them; not as strangers, but as buddies.

 

It requires a lot of courage to put on a brave face and wave good-bye to some, knowing that we might never see each other again. The time has come to realise that “your wings already exist, all you have to do is fly”.

 

Chinmoy gave an amiable look at his trophies that he received during last 2 years. He pulled out a sticky note from bookshelf that quoted Mariaanne Willianson’s lines: “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond imagination. It is our light more than our darkness which scares us. We ask ourselves – who are we to be brilliant, beautiful, talented, and fabulous. But honestly, who are you to not be so”.

 

He was nostalgic; yet quite indomitable as he could envisage his career path from here.  

 

Tring…tring…the intercom was set on full volume. Chinu ignored it. 

 

It rang up again. Perhaps the intercom was on a mission to distract the master of room no. D-105 from further moving into weighty thoughts. 

 

“Who is irritating now! Must be a junior”. He was annoyed.

 

Since last Monday, at least half a dozen juniors had approached him and probed about the exact day and time when would be leaving the campus so that they could occupy D-105. 

Today during breakfast, a junior was enquiring about the travel plan until “Hey you, hang on!’ a manly voice stormed in. It was Nitish, Chinmoy’s roommate. ‘You can shift to D-105  only after our departure from the campus. Let us stay in peace for next few days. Anyway, June onwards the entire campus will be yours” Nitish replied.  

 

The phone was ringing incessantly. Chinmoy went and picked it up.

 

Chinmoy: Hello.

 

Suruchi: Chinu! Where are you? You became deaf or what. I’ve been calling you for last 10 mins.

 

C: Yeah. I was busy.

 

S: Now listen. We are leaving the campus at 7pm. Gotta catch Narmada Exp at 9.30.

C: Huh…We mean who?

 

S: Me and Naina…u idiot.

 

C: Oh…fine.

 

S: Kya ok? Are you gonna carry this fight right through your life? Both of you have not spoken to each other since last year’s annual day.

 

C: Change the topic Thebdi (he used to call Suruchi as Thebdi, means “mentally retarded”). Right now I’m not in a mood to argue. I know that you have been on a ‘patch up’ mission for one and half years, but it’s not possible. I’m not going to talk to her…Please.

 

S: As you wish…anyway, come down to C-505. Mom has carried a box of your favourite Mawa ghewar. She would love to meet you. 

 

C: Oh…Aunty has arrived. Ok…will be there around 3pm.

 

S: No. You come now. We would have lunch together.

 

The line got disconnected. But for a minute, it gave him a flashback of what happened during  the initial days of PDP sessions where Naina and him were tagged as ‘Ms. Simple’ and ‘Mr.Simple’ respectively. He laughed realising how goofy he was. 

 

By now, folks in campus had started weaving a story around the ‘Simple couple’. In spite of Chinmoy’s irk, people started pulling his legs and at times he lost his temper. All these added fuel to fire. On the contrary, Naina was poised. Moreover, someone from the senior batch had already threatened Chinmoy to stay away from Naina. (there could be multiple reasons. God knows for what!) . This incident happened on the night before Institute foundation day & it had tormented Chinmoy. His impulsive mind could do nothing but pick on Naina as the culprit. It’s high time and let’s have a tête-à-tête with Naina. He called her as asked to be at the terrace garden in 10 mins. It was already midnight and people were still practicing for the cultural programmes going to be performed next day. 

 

Naina: Haan bolo. What happened? Why are you not with your drama club members? By the way, kudos! you have managed to pull out a nice script for this year’s show. Now you should be with your team. Hey, you don’t look well too…is everything fine?

 

Chinmoy: Shut up Naina! Don’t make a theatre in front of me. Well, you are a fine actor…aren’t you? Do you think that I got a solitary objective in life to chase you? What do you think of yourself? I am here to ‘study’…you got that right?

 

N: Hey…hang on! What’s wrong with you? Why are you shouting at me?

 

C: A while ago Sangram was here. For God’s sake don’t tell me that you are not aware of this. That self-acclaimed ‘well-wisher’ of your’s abused me and he wanted me to stay away from you. What a piece of crap is this? Could you explain the rationale behind this fiasco?

 

N: Chinu…Please calm down. Trust me. I am not aware of all these. Let me call Sangram right away and ask why did he do this. 

 

C: Enough Ma’am. You are the root-cause behind this saga. Neither I want any explanation, nor clarification from any x, y, z. But Naina, can you do me a favour? Both of us would study here for next one and half years. Never ever talk to me. We shouldn’t cross each other’s way. Just do whatever you want to do…but pls stay away from me. 

 

N: Are you gone insane? Drunk or what? We will talk tomorrow after foundation day celebration.

 

(Ankit shouted from the Auditorium…”Naina, is our nautanki boss with you? If he is around, just tell him that we would rehearse the entire script on stage for the final time. Prof. Sodhi is here and looking for Chinmoy.”)

 

N: You must go now. We will continue this debate tomorrow.

 

C: Bye. But you remember what I said.

 

Chinmoy stuck to his decision. Naina made several attempts to rekindle a friendship…no way! Suruchi (Naina’s bestie and roommate) tried her level best to bring these guys together. But all her efforts went vain. Chinmoy somehow convinced Nitish with some lame reasons and they changed their room from C-302 to D-105 as it was around the terrace garden; most importantly, quite far from Naina’s room.  He used to opt out of the presentation groups if by chance they have been picked on a random basis. (But yes, every time he ensured to prepare the ppts as well as helped in Naina’s reports whenever required. He used to share all these through Suruchi with a condition of anonymity). Gradually people forgot it, except Chinmoy. 

 

Life moved on. They had completed their 1^styear, core courses in second year, got placed, done with job internship, and finally convocation. They were yet to speak... 

 

 

It was 1:30 already. He decided to reach C-505 by 2 pm.

Hazel

"Why does she have such a cabalistic effect on me? 

 

Her alluring prettiness maybe? 

The way she smirks? 

May be the way she strokes her hand against her hair? 

Or it’s her astounding hazel eyes.

I wish if she would stop doing that"...Chinmoy murmured. 

 

Chinmoy: My God, Summs. Your eyes. How have I never noticed them?

 

Sumona: Uff! Why you writers are always after a pair of eyes?? Could you not find a better pick-up line? And she giggled. 

 

May be the color of your eyes, Chinmoy said. 

 

When you stand in the light. They are startling. They look like the sea in a postcard someone sends you when they are deeply in love with you. Well, if I were an artist, I would have painted those. They are beautiful ...like the way you are.

 

After saying this Chinmoy slowly moved toward Sumona but then stopped, and pulled back. 

 

Sumona laughed uncontrollably. 

 

You know what Chins…you are too crazy. By the way, Mr., did you just lean forward with an intention to kiss me? You writers are too smart haan!

 

Both smiled.

 

Sumona leaned in close and said now you can see them clearly. But Chins, you have to tell me the reasons; i.e. why you like 'em?

C: Told you right. They are splendid. Fit you like a glove.

She punched his hands together. Glad you said that. Because they are yours.

C: What?

 

S: They are yours.

C: My what?

S: My eyes. They are yours. Take em!

C: Insane! What my eyes, your eyes... Don’t tell me you had had Vodka shots today. I could see its effect straight away! Ok. These are my eyes. Fine. But how will you manage to see if I take them?

 

S: Keep them with you. I don’t need em as long as you are around. I’ve peeped enough through these hazel eyes and for now I need you to hold em back.

 

C: You are mad Summs.

 

He chuckled and tapped her shoulder. 

 

Good. So today onwards am just a mere custodian of your eyes. I assumed it might be something severe. Well, so am prime keeping them? Chinmoy said.

S: Good boy. Now what do they look like to you? And Mr., stop staring at elsewhere apart from my hazel eyes. 

 

After saying this she looked tickled. 

 

Too many colors, He said. 

 

Initially I thought they were grey, after a detailed analysis I found them to be Hazel. (He purposefully used this word “analysis” as Sumona hates this word: P) Even once I thought they were greenish blue.

 

S: Interesting! Carry on. Am listening. Greenish blue…hmm: P

 

C: You know, we guys are not so good with colors, so yes, and greenish blue. You should be thankful that I didn’t say green like a cricket field or blue like surf excel.

S: Ok. Fair enough. Am glad that you made an attempt. So what color are they now?

 

She asked and then widened her eyes a little; moved closer; let him to look as long and deep as he would have sought for.

C: Well. Everything. They are everything. I could see through the depths of the pupils as they resemble to the underneath of the sea, that I know for sure - but I have never confronted them, and now am looking at the intense and meaningful gazes where I might need a little rescue if I get lost. I could feel that all loved things are meant to be greeted…with a tear in my heart and a poem in my eye…oops, in my borrowed pair of Hazel eyes.  

 

Both looked at each other and smiled. 

 

N.B: Everyone believes in love and would like to feel the essence of true love; at least once in their lifetime. As a teenager, I believed in it once too, back when I was eighteen. But now that I know love is chaotic; engulfed with materialistic lust…just like life. 

 

It takes so many twists and turns that no one could foretell or even comprehend, without leaving an alleyway of regrets in its wake. And yes, roughly always, those qualms steer to procrastination; prompting “if else”, “What could be”, “if I were” questions that could never be answered.

 

At airport

Chinmoy was a little nostalgic when he stepped out of his native, Bhubaneswar, this time around. His professional commitments, at Mumbai, never allowed him to stay at home for more than 15 days in a year. He had been away from home for the past 12 years, it's time for the cow to come home. 

Chinmoy will be married by year end. It will be even more difficult to manage personal and professional life. Reminiscing, he arrived at Bhubaneswar airport. As soon as he arrived, his already restive mind went on auto recovery mode and he regained his peace of mind. Perhaps the presence of co-passengers made him feel better. It is now habitual for Chinmoy as this saga has repeated itself, perhaps the 40^th time, in the last 12 years.

Usually Bhubaneswar airport is not crowded; however, thanks to 4 consecutive holidays and promptness of Air India staffs, it took almost 45 mins to get the boarding pass from the counter. Surprisingly he heard someone crying aloud near the entry gate. Seemed like a newly wed couple and their parting relatives. The bride was crying incessantly. Instead of consoling her, 3-4 relatives further contributed to the din. The poor groom was helpless. He was unable to comprehend what needs to be done, whom he should console, the relatives? his bride? or himself!

This scene continued for almost 30 mins before the CISF guards intervened and asked the couple’s relatives to make room for others at the entry gate. With heavy hearts, they left. The cacophony reduced, solace to the fellow travelers.

Meanwhile, Chinmoy handed over his check-in bag, received the boarding pass, and post security checks, he sat near the boarding gate no. 5 with newspaper in hand. After a while, the newly weds sat one row ahead of Chinmoy.

No no no…not again…please! The bride had started crying again, though it was not as loud as before, yet it was infuriating.  The guy looked gloomy. He was trying to figure out a way to console his wife.

Chinmoy could sense that it was a quick-fix arranged marriage where the couple were not acquainted with each other. There was an awkward silence.

Swarnima. Pls don’t cry. Have some water now. After telling this, the guy passed on a bottle of water to his wife; (Swarnima. Nice name. Chinmoy thought!) 

She took a sip and sat quietly.

The Guy: Hey, would you like to eat something? You must be hungry by now. Can I get you a sandwich, or omelet toast, may be a diet coke and chicken burger?

Swarnima: Hmm, no. I don't feel like eat ing anything. Moreover, it’s Monday. Am on fast.

The Guy: Oh! Ok. Would you prefer a mug of coffee? Am an avid black coffee lover. It gives me strength to focus on my work till odd hours at night.

Swarnima: I love tea with less milk and 2 drops of honey. I don’t like coffee at all. Besides, black coffee is too bitter. How do you manage to drink it Ch…Ch… and she stopped.

The Guy: Tea! I don’t like it. By the way, you can call me by my name. It’s Chirag and he giggled at his stupidity to assume that his wife would not be knowing his name. Swarnima also gave a cute smirk.

(Swarnima and Chirag! Sounds like a nice couple. Well, at times a silly topic does help to break the ice!)

Chirag happily went to the nearby food court, and he came back with 2 mugs.

Swarnima: What’s this? 2 cups of tea. Where is your coffee?

Chirag: Hmm…you know Swarnima, these folks at the adjacent food court prepare amazing tea. Infact I instructed them to customize it with a few drops of honey, instead of sugar and more…oops less milk. Am sure they have made it well. Why don’t you try it?

Swarnima smiled again. 

(Chirag, you look super cute while lying. How often does a black coffee lover drink a cup of tea, that too with drops of honey! Do you even know how tea is made? Anyway!)

Both sat next to each other.

Slowly Swarnima put her head on Chirag’s shoulder. Chirag held her hand and the couple were visibly happy sipping tea together.

The tea is fabulous and I love the guy who customised it for me… Swarnima murmured.