I rushed into the train heading to Andheri hoping to avoid the teenage boy following me with sheer dedication. Maybe if he put all this hard work into school, he would be passing his classes. I propped myself against the stanchion in the train to compose myself. Tears started welling up in my eyes. I couldn’t cry, not now, especially not in front of that imbecile! I frantically started waving my hands in front of my eyes in a fan-like motion to help evaporate the salty liquid being secreted. I heard snorting and muffled laughter behind me. I jerked my head back in order to see the source of these sounds, only to see the doors close behind. If only he had been slower.
I pretended to be valiant and looked right in his eyes in the most condescending way possible. Though I tried my best, just a glance at him was enough to make me tear up. I was never an emotional guy. I never knew how to express myself so I kept to myself, there was no point in bothering to convey what I wanted to when no one understood or even tried to understand. But looking at him easily reminded me of the strong emotions of betrayal. What made things worse was the lack of remorse in his eyes. He didn’t care. Not one bit. “I can explain,” he started while staring at me right in the eye. His speaking in the most nonchalant tone made me feel like I was the one who was at fault. I was tired of this behaviour. He opened his mouth again to speak when I interrupted him.
“Man, I really can’t believe you. The audacity you have to follow me in here after everything. I trusted you. With everything. Every little aspect of my life. Can’t believe I used to be friends with a person like you,” I retorted.
In the briefest moment, I saw an emotion flash in his eyes which I’m not sure I had seen before - sadness. The walls around him soon came crawling back up. I sighed. I was exhausted and simply did not want to deal with all of this right now. I walked away from him and sat down on an empty seat holding my head in my hands to conceal the fact that I was crying. I was burnt out, and so tired. I sensed Karan’s presence in the seat next to me and felt a hand on my back in a comforting manner. I was too drained to move his hand away and as much as I didn’t want to accept it, it felt nice to have someone next to me, comforting me.
“Take your hand off of me or I’m gonna call the freaking Mahila Helpline,” I spoke up loudly in between sobs. He gave out a throaty chuckle which I swear to God sounded like a witch cackling. “Well lucky for you Ali, you aren’t a Mahila,” he said, still laughing. “Well maybe it would’ve been easier if I were a woman, wouldn’t it?” I snapped back. I slowly looked up, curious to see his face. He looked baffled. The inner corners of his eyebrows were angled up. And his lips were pouting outwards. I cannot describe the wave of satisfaction that washed over me after seeing his upset face. He might have a towering physique but he was a literal child. I averted my gaze from him.
This was the first I properly looked up to scan my surroundings. Something felt wrong. Our coach was completely empty. I quickly got onto my feet to peer into the other coach through the window that acted as a barrier between us. It was empty too. It was 8 p.m. In Mumbai. “Hey Karan, why are we the only ones in the coach?” I started hyperventilating.
“You always freak out so easily. Calm down.” Karan said, looking at me.
“Shut. Up.” I hissed through my teeth.
I headed towards the window and peered out of it. We were in a tunnel as it was pitch black outside. I sat down, fatigued. I went from having an anxiety attack to not caring in the span of 2 minutes. We sat there for a few minutes in silence. Karan didn’t seem to notice but I did. This tunnel was suspiciously long.
Suddenly, the train skidded to a halt causing both my unwanted companion and me to fly out of our seats. This almost blinding light penetrated through the windows of the train. I jerked my head towards Karan to look at how he was doing. He suddenly took on a pale look, as if his face had been white-washed. Then with a step backwards he collapsed on the floor. I, too, found myself losing consciousness. I stumbled as darkness covered my eyes like a blanket.
As my eyelids slowly opened and adjusted to the brightness, it felt as if I had awoken from a deep sleep and felt very refreshed - until the throbbing headache kicked in. I digested my environment. I was on the floor of the train station. I noticed Karan laying next to me, still unconscious. The sun blazed overhead. The last time I checked it was nighttime. How did so much time pass? Why did we pass out? What was the light that flashed out of nowhere? I brushed off these questions burning in my head as I searched for my phone in my sling bag. My parents must be worried. I unlocked my phone with shaky hands. No network? How was that possible?
I finally paid some attention to the public dressed in various kinds of clothes who were bustling and rushing all over the place. Some sat at the benches waiting for their respective trains to arrive. There was something outlandish about this scene in front of me. Everything seemed so… ancient? Women wore the six-yard saree with simple borders ruled, and the draping style varied from one woman to the other. The men seemed as if they were
inspired by the European fashion of their matinee idols. A thought popped up in my head and I rushed towards the newspaper stand. I picked up a newspaper hastily as I scanned the date.
18th August 1949.
“If you want to read the paper, you better buy it,” the owner of the stand spoke up lazily. I put the paper back on the stand and quietly walked away. I was freakishly calm. I walked back to where Karan lay unconscious. I won’t lie, I sort of forgot about him. As I crept up closer, I saw him slowly rousing up from his slumber. I squatted down to his level. He tilted his head quizzically. I stated, “All we have now is each other.”
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