Umashashi - A Love Story

Umashashi – A Love Story

Tathagata Mukhopadhyay

-           Hey mister … mind if I sit here?

-          Not at all, only if you trust me.

-          My Ammu told me never to trust a man. All men are alike.

-          Then, perhaps, you should find some other place. There are many benches on the platform.

-          Yes, but either somebody is sleeping or they are empty. I am scared. And you look harmless.

-        Hmmm, now that you are already seated beside me, I suppose I can presume that you are not scared of me.

-          Scared – no, a bit apprehensive, I must say.

-          From your clothes and looks, it appears you come from a well-to-do family. What’s a girl –  a lady, beg your pardon – like you doing here all alone in this deserted railway platform at this hour, may I ask?

-          I wanted to catch the one-o-clock up Mail. Who knew it was running late?

-          The train stops here only for a minute, do you have a reservation?

-          Oh … no, no, but I have a valid ticket.

-          They may not allow you to board without a valid reservation. You should have thought about it.

-          I know … I know … but I had to decide, suddenly… I didn’t quite plan … you know what I mean.

-          Hmmm… a spur of the moment decision… Nice mehendi ... there on your right hand, where you keep looking at your watch. Intricate, ornate design. Work of a professional... Do you have it on your left palm as well? You don’t have to look at your watch frequently; it won’t help the train to reach earlier.

-          Look, would you help me board the train … I mean, in the event I find it difficult to get a seat?

-       Who do you think I am? The son-in-law of the CMD of Indian Railways, or the nephew of the Railway minister?

-          No, but I know you know many railway staff.

-          How do you know that?

-          That’s easy. You spend all your leisure time here, on the railway platform. Everyone in town knows that. It’s obvious you would have friends. What do you so much time here, in this deserted platform?

-      I find this place very tranquil. The sound of a train whistling by, followed by long interludes of solitaire and total silence; it’s so very musical, so very rhythmic. Did you know that even total silence has music?

-          Don’t you sleep?

-          Of course, I do. Towards the morning. I do not have the pressure of getting up early for work.

-        But you have your social activities. You are also one of those helping types. Last week when a porter died of a heart attack, you took all initiatives to collect money to help his bereaved family. Also, once in a while, you teach street urchins. Why do you do all that? For cheap publicity? You want to be the hero in everyone’s eyes, don’t you, Mr Shivnath?

-          That’s astounding! How do you know so much about me? You even know my name!

-        Everyone around knows you. You may recall, you had been to our home on many occasions to collect funds for the new community park and playground. You, too, donated heavily for the cause. Didn’t you? Also, you had been to our college for that lecture on Environment Protection…or was it something on the Green House Emission …or something similar, you remember? You are after the Nobel Peace Prize or what?

-          Hmmm, now I see you know more about me than I myself do.

-        I know more. You are an engineer. You worked in the Middle East for seven years, right? Why have you quit working?

-          I didn’t. All those which you just mentioned keep me busy. My work. Very demanding; requires lots of efforts.

-          Work for a living, I mean.

-          Oh, you mean work without remunerations is no work! By your yardstick, none of the housewives – the home-makers – are working then? For that matter no Moms, when they spend full time in bringing up their infants, work because they do it for free.

-          No no no … not that. You are deliberately twisting it like an advocate. Okay, let me put it this way; don’t you need to earn?

-          Not really. I have enough to sustain myself. My needs are very simple.

-        You are just thirty or is it thirty-one - still quite young; don’t you have any girlfriends? Don’t you aspire to marry and settle in life?

-          Marrying has got nothing to do with settling. I am already quite settled, you see. You didn’t tell me why are you fleeing?

-          Fleeing? Why on earth do i have to flee? 

-         Traces of your bridal make-up is still visible. A corner of the red bridal saree is jutting out of the zip of your backpack - result of a hurried stash-job.

-          Huh - whatever! I laud your imagining skills, mister.

-          You look anxious. You want that Mail to arrive before time, don't you? I bet, your palms are sweaty, your throat dry...

-          What are you? A tail? Holmes?

-          Nope, a shrink perhaps, not a dick...

-          Papa wants to marry me to a guy I don’t like. I don’t believe in an arranged marriage.

-          So you fled from the Marriage Mandap, keeping everyone waiting. 

-          Not quite. I fled after the Mehendi ceremony. The marriage is tomorrow.

-        Straight out of Hindi serials. You took the last bus to the Railway Station I presume. Well, best of luck.

-          Are you supporting my move?

-          Would it matter if I didn’t?

-          Won’t you ask where I am heading for?

-          I’m sure you have made arrangements. You appear to be quite cautious and calculative.

-          Still, wouldn’t you like to know?

-          No.

-          Must you show indifference to everything?

-          Well – there are hardly anything that interests me, save for a few.

-          So there are things which you find interesting.

-          Yes, of course.

-          For example?

-          For example, I get very interested in food when I am hungry.

-          Hmmm, very cheeky. Look at that police constable. He’s on his patrol; eyeing us suspiciously.

-          He is only doing his job. Spotting suspicious things fall in the category of routine duties for cops.

-          You and me sitting on this railway platform on a wintry night; is this very weird?

-          Even if it is now, all his suspicions will be allayed once you depart.

-          And tomorrow, after I am found missing the same cop will pull you up at the police station and ask uncomfortable questions. Did it occur to you that the police might frame you on charges of abduction?

-          Ha ha … I will look forward to it. I find such games very interesting. You know once at Charles De Gaulle airport in Paris, the immigration officers held me up for four hours. They thought I was a drug peddler. They strip-searched me four or five times. They even searched through the linings of my bag; x-rayed my abdomen.

-          You should have protested. You were innocent after all.

-          I was actually enjoying their harassed looks. In fact, after four hours, when they finally allowed me to go, I felt a tad disappointed. I was enjoying the game.

-          For sure, with your physique, unkempt beard and un-groomed hair you look like a drug peddler.

-          Also that morning, after a long flight, my eyes were bloodshot – for I had little sleep; I drank for most of the flight.

-          You drink!!!

-          When did I claim I am a saint? I also smoked marijuana during my college days.

-          What other bad habits do you have, Shiv?

-          It depends on what you label as bad habits – mostly yardsticks of good and bad are set by people like you who form the society. For me, it’s all about personal choice – as long as it does not cause any harm to anybody else.

-          But smoking marijuana may have caused harm to you, your health.

-          We are responsible for all our deeds. We have to be prepared for the punishments.

-          You are not even inquisitive. How could an engineer be so devoid of inquisitiveness?

-          Not asking a question does not mean one is devoid of curiosities. When one can on one’s own find solutions, there is no need for him to ask.

-          You mean to say you never depended on anybody to find solutions?

-          Ummm … yeah, you can say so.

-          You are not suggesting that you solve all your problems, are you?

-          I never said that. It’s not necessary to solve all problems in life. We do not have to score full marks in all our exams, a little less won’t do any harm. We all are used to live with some problems, after a while the problems gets into our systems.

-          Like?

-          Like, I do not have a municipality water connection in my rented place. A problem, right? A home without water; sounds ominous. But in reality, I have learnt to manage with a couple of buckets which I fetch from the roadside tap. Now it has got into my system.

-          You have to fetch water for your daily usage from the roadside taps?

-       What’s so strange about that? Crores in our country don't even have access to clean tap water. Besides, carrying buckets of water is a good exercise. It keeps one strong. Why, even you, I’m sure, are used to living with a lot of problems; we all are.

-          You have a canny way of evading straight questions. You don’t give a straight answer, you don’t ask questions … you are … you are … what should I say –

-          Boring. Many people tell me that. Tell me something I haven't heard.

-         How well do you know me Shiv?  You had been to our place a couple of times.

-          Hmmm, good. What’s your name, Umashashi?

-          That’s a borrowed dialogue from ‘Sholay’. Everyone around calls me Uma. I allow you to call me that.

-          Well, Uma, you are – or should I say were – a student of the local Government College. And you are fleeing from your home just because you do not agree to marry the chap your Papa and Ammu chose. Do you have any message to be conveyed to your father after you are gone? I can do that for you.

-          No. I want to pursue a career in modelling. Do you think I am good enough to be a successful model? Does it sound cliched?

-          Ummm … let me see … you have the looks. Other than that I have no idea what it requires to become a successful model. You know what, when I was in Abu Dhabi, I came across a cab-driver who was also a successful model. He was a Keralite.

-          How mean! Do you have such lowly opinions on models?

-     No, seriously; he’d shown me his modelling pictures that were published as ads in Malayalam newspapers. 

-          There is no scope for making it big in modelling from a small town. I have to pursue my dreams in a big city. But Papa won’t listen. He wants me to marry. Tell me Shivnath, is this an age to get married? I am only twenty-three.

-          Hmmm … difficult question. My Mom was nineteen when she got married.

-      Those were different times. In those days girls were not supposed to make careers. Things have changed.

-          But you just told me you are fleeing because you did not believe in an arranged marriage?

-         It’s a bit of both. I may have considered an alternate career – teaching or something – if I’d found someone here who cared for me.

-       You know what; you are confused, big time. You are not clear about your real problems or real ambitions.

-          I am, actually. And I have a reason for it.

-          The reason, for being confused? Now you are confusing me!

-          Yes. But before that, may I ask you a personal question; have you ever been in love?

-          No.

-          Are you sure?

-          Sure. No. Never.

-          You are lying. I can say that from your face.

-       Look, every person  – unless he or she is a gay – feels attraction for the opposite sex particularly during the adolescence. That’s normal. That’s got nothing to do with falling in love or whatever.

-          You were infatuated with someone. Come on Shivnath, admit.

-          A long time ago. She was my friend’s sister. I was doing my Engineering while she still was in her high school. Several times I saw her watching us from her second-floor balcony while we played galli cricket. I thought she was watching me.

-          How did you know she watched you and no other guy in the crowd?

-          Yeah, it was a problem. And like all problems, it too had a solution.

-          And what was that?

-          Once I deliberately did not take part in a match and chose to observe from afar. She came to the balcony. Her probing eyes searched for someone. It was obvious she failed to locate the player of her choice for she disappeared inside soon after, only to reappear again after I’d joined the game.

-          So why didn’t you propose?

-          There were many reasons. I thought, then, that it would never culminate into a relationship. Also, I was unsure of myself. And then, soon after graduation, I left the country.

-          But you came back after seven years. Didn’t you try to locate the girl?

-          Again, there were many reasons. The most important being, by then I had other priorities in my life.

-          And what other reasons, may I ask?

-          Once you have identified the biggest reason, rest others become redundant. Considering them, or even thinking of them is a waste of time.

-          In your exam paper when you are asked to write five disadvantages of a system you have to write five points. You can’t just escape by stating the one you think is the biggest disadvantage and not answering the remaining four. I would like to know the other reasons.

-          Believe me, I have done that many a time in my papers; not answering despite being aware of the right answers. But since you insist, I wasn’t sure…

-          Sure of what, Shiv?

-          That time – I am talking of the cricket-match days - she was barely what … twelve or thirteen, perhaps. A good ten years have passed since…I wasn’t sure she would even recognize me, let alone having that puppy infatuation…

-          Go on, I am listening…

-          And while I was away, I lost both my parents in the epidemic that created havoc five years ago…

-          Hmmm…

-       And then, I chose a reverse path in my career. In fact for me, now, there is no career. I junked everything and chose to spend my life in this little town where I grew up, doing nothing. Now does that sound like a sound reason, Uma? There, I hear the bell. The train should be arriving in the next five minutes.

-          You could have accosted the girl once, just to find out, if not anything else, at least whether or not it was you her eyes searched for during those galli matches. Did you ever talk to her?

-          Yes, once.

-          Very interesting. Do you recall what had happened?

-          You are very inquisitive.

-          Yes, I am. You expect everyone to be like you. Now tell me what had happened.

-     She was a dancer. Once she had gone for a stage performance in the neighbouring town. The organizers had arranged for her transport back home. That day there were torrential rains. On her way back, the car broke down, with her alone in a deserted street with the driver. I had spotted the car while I was bi-cycling back in the rain. As I was crossing the car, I saw her, distressed and worried. I had offered to escort her home. She’d agreed.

-          Agreed? Just like that? Highly unlikely unless…anyway, then?

-          Then, nothing. We walked for three, perhaps four, kilometres in the rain till she reached her home, safely.

-          Didn’t you talk while you were walking?

-          Very little. General talks, like her hobbies, her favourite subjects and all that.

-     You could have asked her whether she had any soft corner for you. God had given you that opportunity.

-          The thought never crossed my mind. Why even she could have asked?

-          You are an idiot. A girl would seldom bare her feelings. Didn’t it occur to you that had the girl not have special feelings for you she would have never agreed to walk with you on a rain-soaked evening through a deserted street? How could you let go of that opportunity?

-          Such thoughts never had crossed my mind.

-          And you call yourself a shrink! You know what; the girl could have dumped an insensitive person like you, anyway.

-          All problems solved then.

-          What?

-          I had already scored a victory by allowing the opportunity to the girl to dump me. I outsmarted her.

-          Very, very smart – you insensitive brute.

-          There goes the second bell. The train should be arriving at any minute. You would do better to walk a little ahead. The three-tier coaches and the general compartment are towards the front.

-          Won’t you stop me Shiv? For once, wake up and listen to your conscience.

-          A Conscience to me is baggage. I have stopped carrying all such baggage since long.

-          A Relationship is not baggage. You may not get another chance, ever, in your life.

-          Nobody can be happy with me.

-          You are much too self-centred.

-          Your train is arriving. I can see its headlight at a distance.

-          I know why you quit your job and came back here. What if I say you came back for the girl who hero-worshipped you?

-          That’s pure conjecture.

-         It’s true. I saw it in your eyes. Even now whenever you crossed the girl’s home, you looked up at the balcony. The other day when you came to see the girl’s father, the girl noticed your covert darting glances from upstairs; those probing eyes desperate to catch a glimpse of the girl who once watched those galli cricket matches only to see you play. The girl waited and waited. On one pretext or other, she rejected courtships from many an eligible bachelor, for she believed one day her hero would be back to solve all her problems.

-          The train has entered the platform. You must leave now.

-          If you allow me to go now, Shiv, I promise I will never come back. I will be gone forever.

-          Stop kidding. Where is your luggage?

-          I don’t carry baggage either. I don’t need to carry anything with me to where I intend to go.

-          What the hell –

-          True, Shiv. After leaving the railway platform, the train crosses a river. The same river where you once swam. There was a girls’ school at its bank, remember? The bathing ghats were visible from the school. Did you ever notice the girl watching you as you swam? Good bye.

-          Hey, where are you going?

-          To board the train. I promise I will only go as far as the river.

-          Wait, wait Uma.

-          Leave me, you self-centred brute. Let me go.

-          Where are you going?

-          I thought you weren’t interested.

-          You are crazy!

-          I am. You think you are the only person who’s got the copyright to craziness?

-          You are not going anywhere.

-          I will not go back to my home.

-          Step down from the train.

-          I will never go back to my home.

-          You are a problem.

-          Then find a solution. You are an Engineer. I thought Engineers are good at finding solutions. The train has started to move. Hey, hang on – why are you boarding the train?

-          I am coming with you.

-          Then get in. Hanging out of the door of a moving train is a way too risky.

-          Move a little, will you? This place is cramped.

-          Here, hold my hand, come closer. I thought you did not care for me?

-          I didn’t. I don’t.

-          Then leave me with my woes and worries.

-          I can’t, because I have certain … certain …

-          You have what?

-          I have certain responsibilities towards you. You can’t leave like that. Knowingly, I cannot allow you to …

-          Allow what Shiv?

-          Allow you to junk your family, dump that guy with whom your parents arranged your marriage. Just think of what will happen to your folks. Think of all the arrangements they have made. All the money they have spent. The invitations that went out to your family members, neighbours, friends. Think of the loss of face, the humiliation, the social apathy that they shall have to endure because of this selfish decision of yours.

-          So why do you have to bother? What is in this for you? Whatever will happen will happen to me and my family. You do not have to take up the role of a self-proclaimed social reformer. Not for me, Shiv.

-          The train is entering the bridge. We are getting down at the next station across the river, and taking a taxi back. You are going to get married to your suitor, tomorrow. Period.

-          Leave my hand Shiv, you are hurting me.

-          No. I cannot give you any chance of escaping…and please, do not grin like a lunatic.

-          There is no marriage, Shiv. Never has been.

-        What do you mean? What on earth…what about those mehendis, the bridal makeup, your bridal dress stashed in your backpack?

-          These are all set up, Shiv. And you fell for it.

-          What?

-          Don’t look at me like an idiot. We have been chatting for over an hour now. Do you think that my missing from home would go unnoticed for this long? And what would any parent do when they find their girl missing? Inform the Police, of course. And what would the Police do? It would immediately look for the missing persons at the most obvious places. The Railway Station, the Bus Station and the only Hospital that our small town has. How long do you think they need before they’d nab me?

-          That cop, at the railway platform who was patrolling nearby was a plot of this setup, wasn’t he?

-          See, now you are thinking Shiv.

-          But why did you have to do all these, why? And why indeed would your parents agree to this rather preposterous set-up?

-          When I steadfastly refused to even consider any other boy, I had to disclose my reason for doing so.

-          Reason?

-          You, dumbo. You are the reason. When I told my Ammu and Papa that I would either have you – the vagabond – as my partner or die a spinster, they had to yield. But it came with a rider. I had a month – exactly 30 days – to woo you. I would be given free hand to do anything. But once the time limit exceeds, I must accede to all their wishes.   And as they say in the films and ads, I had declared - “Challenge accepted”. 

-          And what if I had not boarded this train, and left you alone with your fate?

-          You couldn’t. If I know you correctly, you are not the one to leave a damsel in distress. I talk from my previous experience. And the way you are gripping my arm, I am sure I wasn’t wrong in my assessment. Ufff… I must use a pain-balm on my wrist…

-          But just in case I indeed had chosen to let you go, would you have…

-          What? Jumped off the bridge? No way. In most matters, we are unlike, save one. Like you, I’m not a quitter. I still have half a month left of my time. I would have come up with a plan B, and if that failed, a plan C etc…

 

 

******

 

-             I thought we were going to your place, Shiv…it’s our wedding night after all.

-          Didn’t all wise men advise to walk a mile after dinner? Your Papa threw a lavish reception I must say. I overate.

-          Ummm – no. I think loitering in this deserted railway platform is a habit you’d hate to give up…Ohhhh it’s very cold here…

-          And what do you think are you doing Uma?

-          Sliding my hands into your jacket. Just to keep make sure my numb fingers don’t fall off in this chill. Hey, what’s that? Why has that puppy jumped onto your lap…your friend?

-          And follower... Habu, too, seeks warmth…

-          Habu? Isn’t that a stray?

-      Aren’t we all? Mutual sharing has its own charms. Come on, pet his furry neck. He shall share warmth as well.

-          And, what is that you are doing Mr Shivnath? Rolling a cigarette? Never knew you smoked.

-          Of course, you knew. Didn’t I tell you about my occasional indulgence with marijuana?

-          Oh, yes, of course. But I saw Sadhus using small earthenware pots to smoke ganja.

-          These are called reefers. Replace the tobacco with dried grass, it becomes a reefer. There you are, it’s ready. Let me light this up now…

-          Ummm…the smoke has a heady aroma. But must you do this tonight? It’s our wedding night after all.

-          All the more reason. This is celebration time  Ms.Umashashi.

-          Wrong. Mrs Umashashi. I am stumped by your ideas of celebrations…ummm

-          Hehehehe…you tickle me…

-          Are we going to spend the night here? The one AM Mail is about to arrive! And it’s rather nippy. I need more warmth…

-          It’s not going to be too warm in my quarters, Uma. The windows and doors have a lot of cracks.

-          Chalega. You have a quilt, don’t you? I want to sleep through the whole morning…

-          With a small break at 6 AM, I daresay.

-          Are you joking?

-          We must fetch water from the roadside municipality taps, remember? I got us two more buckets. So that’s four buckets now – to see us through the day…

-          Hmmm…Shiv, let me tell you, you are doing a very poor job to scare me…try something else.

-          No. Not trying to scare you. Just reminding you of the drills and the inconveniences. In summers, it would be just the opposite. No air-conditioning. You must get adjusted to that rickety ceiling fan I own.

-          And?

-          Monsoons can be very romantic though. You heard that song – “Raindrops are falling on my head”!!!

-          You do have a sense of humor, after all. Now would you mind demonstrating your sense of love, Shiv? Can we go home, finally?

-          Ummm…okay, let’s go.

-          Oh my God, your Habu is following us…is he going to accompany us?

-          How can I leave Habu out in this chilly night?

-       Hmmm…well, I guess I must get adjusted to your Habu being witness to our love scenes. I can adjust. Let’s go Shiv… I am shivering…

 

******

Mumbai

1 Aug 2020