The Mumbai city was flooded with rain-water, traffic was in deep mess, nothing was moving and on top of it, all the local and long route trains were stopped on the way. Besides, the domestic flights were also cancelled for indefinite period.
I was stuck in the city from the previous night. I was coming back from Pune after attending my quarterly sales meet and wanted to go back to Calcutta by late evening flight but I could not do so because I missed my flight due to late arrival at the airport. Thereafter, I decided to catch Gitanjali express train to Calcutta in the morning.
Luckily, I got the reservation in AC-II tier coach in Gitanjali express train, which leaves Mumbai's V.T. Station at six in the morning but was delayed due to the heavy rain. The rain had probably decided not to stop until the whole city was submersed.
Therefore, I decided to wait at the station itself and I proceeded towards platform number one from where Gitanjali express train was scheduled to depart. I sat on the long chair which was vacant at that point of time. Except for the coolies, nobody else was around. I had just started reading my book (I was carrying with me), when someone interrupted my reading and asked in Bengali “Excuse me sir, Howrah train would come at this platform?” Instead of replying to him, I put my own question to her: “Which Train?” She replied: “Gitanjoly Express”. Before I could confirm to her, the cooly carrying her belongings had already kept her luggage on the ground and left colleting his dues.
She was in her mid-thirties, slim, smart, tall and very fair looking beautiful woman. She was wearing plain cotton sari with red border which was almost wet with the rain water. Somehow, I could not hold myself and offered her small fresh towel to make herself dry. In reciprocation, she opened a flask, poured two cups of tea and offered me one hot cup of tea along with biscuits.
Meantime, the announcement was made that Gitanjali express would leave in the evening. We first became very happy but sad thereafter because it’s only eleven in the morning and we had to wait for another 5-6 hours on the platform before boarding our train.
I requested her to keep an eye on my luggage and went out to bring some food for us. It took me more than half an hour to bring the food, soft drinks and tea from a nearby market because most of the hotels near the station were closed. With great difficulty, I managed food from a restaurant and her flask came handy for carrying hot tea for us.
She was looking worried, tensed and almost in tears when she saw me, before I could explain the reason of my delay, she started shouting at me as if I was her slave. Some how, I could not control myself and smiled at her, which further irritated her and all of a sudden she started hitting me with both her hands, and then, she put her head on my chest and broke down. Her face was full of tears and she was uttering few unfinished words in Bengali with great difficulty.
Lots of people, who were sitting at the platform, started watching this drama and whispering to each other in soft voices, which could be heard by all of us without any problem: “It’s their problem let them fight and others should mind their own business.”
I am sure my co-passenger had also heard the above statement; suddenly, she became very calm, quite and serious, as if, nothing had happened between us. She very politely said "sorry" to me and then gave me the justification of her anger.
She felt, as if I have started eating out alone and avoiding her company but when she saw me coming with lots of food packets she could not control herself and she bursted out on me with her suppressed anger, but in-between she almost forgot one thing that I was nobody to her, I was a stranger, who happened to be at the platform at that point of time, thanks to the unstoppable rain and would leave her on arrival at our destination; leaving everything behind, that too, without any guarantee of any future meeting between us.
Almost an hour had passed since that unpleasant incident but nobody uttered a single word, we ate our food in silence without feeling any taste as if we were simply filling our stomach although the need was not there but we were simply avoiding eye contacts with each others, putting everything inside without giving much thought to it.
Her silence was quite disturbing and I was seriously thinking about today’s episode, what have I done that had irritated her so much that she became so angry, violent and nervous. I didn’t know how I had developed a soft corner for her. She reminded me of my very close childhood friend whom I lost in my early life. She is not at all like her but her tantrum had reminded me of someone whom I loved the most. She died at the very young age of twenty-one due to severe asthma attack.
As expected she started unfolding herself with lots of pain which could be seen on her face. And finally she exploded “Sir, you know, he had left me and wanted me to divorce him at all cost. He is not ready to give me one more chance to save our marriage because he has already selected another companion, with whom he is living and last night he brought her home, you see. I could not tolerate this act of shame and his guts when he introduced her as his "would be wife".
Tell me Sir, for how long a woman can tolerate her husband’s atrocity, beating, injustice, torchers and bad words about her family, and why? I am PhD. in Physic and working as a Professor earning fairly good salary but what will I tell about our broken marriage to my parents? They all think that I am happily married and enjoying my married life with a very successful (B.TECH+MBA+MNC employed) husband.
Now I have realized why she was so angry on me, it was her last night’s incident which had forced her to release her anger; when she saw me coming late from market, she could not hold herself any longer and bursted out with volcano of her pain, furiously.
Our train started at seven in the evening. We were sitting facing each other on side-lower seats. On the face of it, she was looking quite comfortable, relaxed and relieved from all her pain, problem and tension; but deep down, she was worried and desperately looking for a solution to her problem. And at other side, I was thinking, why our lives are so complicated and wondering: “Life is not mathematics; it’s unpredictable.”
With Prayers
Gurcharan
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