Reflections of love
“Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.�
� Jalaluddin Rumi
On a hot baking evening on platform 4, Hazrat Nizamuddin railway station, I ambled past the pieces of luggage placed on the platform and the people waiting for the train. I was returning to my home after an exhausting year of work in Delhi. I sat on the bench for a while, immersed in the story of the monk in the book by Robin Sharma; soon, I was distracted by the blaring horn of the approaching train. I slowly got up, still engaged in the beautiful narrative of the philosophy of the garden and its significance. In five minutes, I settled in the lower berth of my compartment with people slowly dribbling in the cabins near mine with their luggage. I wondered who my companions on this journey would be. I wished they were a quiet bunch because I preferred to rest on the upper berth and read my book during most of the 24-hour-long travel. Most of the cabins were still empty. An advantage of travelling on a weekday.
Everyone had settled, and the journey was about to begin, with the horn signalling the last call. I was happy that I was alone in my cabin. I preferred solitude over a talkative companion. As the train jerked violently and began to move, I saw through the window an elderly couple rushing towards our compartment. The train steadily gained pace. I dropped my book to run to the door and saw this elderly gentleman helping his wife board the moving train. He handed the trolley bag to me as he jogged alongside the train, and then with difficulty, he climbed up to enter the train. It was tense for those few moments seeing them struggle. To my surprise, they shared wild laughter as if they enjoyed the experience. I joined them with a smile. They thanked me, and we moved the luggage to my compartment, where they had their berths.
The journey had begun. With the book back in my hand, I quietly slipped into my upper birth. At 8 pm, I opened a biscuit packet, my dinner. The couple were busy below. The old man was slicing cucumber, carrot and beetroot and was arranging them neatly on a plate. He then sliced lemon and splashed its juice over the cut vegetables. The old woman looked at me, staring at them from above, and with a warm smile, she offered to join them for dinner. As the old man finished disposing of the vegetable peels in a newspaper ball, she offered him a hand towel.
I was amazed by their understanding of each other, an otherworldly communication bandwidth. They seemed to know what was going on in each other’s minds. Every time I watched them look into each other’s eyes, I remembered the quote by Henry David Thoreau, “Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other’s eyes for an instant? We should live in all the ages of the world in an hour; ay, in all the worlds of the ages�. Right after dinner, they settled for a nap. I returned to my nest and read about the monk who sold his Ferrari for a few hours before dozing off.
The following morning, I woke up to the screeching noise of wheels and announcements made at a railway station. It was half past six, and I was the last to wake up in the entire compartment. I saw the couple sitting close to each other, smiling at something, looking refreshed, and eagerly peering through the window. They were always smiling. I had this thought then; I wish my parents remained like this when they approached their latter days. I wanted to know about this unique couple. I wished them good morning.
“Good morning, Manu! Hope you had a good rest, kid,� came the energetic reply from the old man. Looking at my baffled expression, he continued, “Your name is Manu Prakash, as per the passenger’s list. Sorry if I am wrong.”�
In a haze of thought block, I just nodded without speaking.
“Go and get refreshed, Manu. We will have tea,� came the loving command from the lady. They both smiled again, now looking at something in the platform.
When I returned from the washroom, they offered me tea and biscuits.
“We saved it in a flask for you,� she spoke as she handed over the tea in a paper cup.
As I thanked them, the old man asked, “So, what do you do, Manu? You seem to be a studious boy.�
So, the conversation started. I introduced myself as a research fellow at Delhi University. I asked them how to address them.
Call us Ma and Pa or Grandma and Grandpa. As you wish, Manu. Again, that ever-present smile on both their faces. They were good with everyone and had already been acquainted with many in our compartment. I was impressed by the energy they possessed and their attitude towards others. Kind, courteous and helpful. They were a unique couple, I felt.
Then we discussed various things, from my education, life in a city like Delhi, and my parents. Then came the question from the gentleman regarding my marriage and love interests. I was dumbfounded as I didn’t expect a straightforward question like that from anyone, even my dearest friends who would come to receive me when I reached home. I was initially hesitant to spill the beans, but they were so friendly with me that I trusted them blindly and went on to tell my story of how I met this wonderful girl in Delhi. How we came together and the plan to reveal it to our parents. I also expressed my anxiety and fear about what would follow when our parents knew.
Then the couple came to my rescue and gave me positive inputs on handling the situation as if they had experienced it a gazillion times. Pa started to tell a story of a couple during their college days, which his soulmate interrupted immediatelyas she wanted to narrate. He obliged with a smile.
“It’s a cute story, Manu! There were these lovers, an intelligent, beautiful girl named Rasika, and an average-looking boy named Shakti, in our medical school. Their amalgamation was a truly symbiotic relationship. Every one of us felt that they exemplify the perfect couple. Even a third person like us could recognise the level of love, care, affection and understanding they had for each other. We, in fact, envied them. Everything went well till they graduated with medals and accolades. We knew that they would rule the medical fraternity because a union of a such kind without any ego and limitations will result only in progress beyond any imagination. But it was not to last, sadly though.
After a year, we learned that they parted ways because their families did not agree to the marriage. Stories like caste, economic status, pride, and the social stigma of having a love marriage were lurking around as reasons. Only they knew what the truth was. But we knew their love was strong enough, making them sacrifice their happiness for their parents.�
“It seems very tough ahead,� I sighed.
Ma laughed and spoke, “Yes, Manu, it is tough to leave the person you love with all your heart. But at the same time, it gives you the strength that the separation is only physical. They both knew no one could take away the love from their hearts. They knew they would live with each other every second of their life.�
“Where are they? What happened then, ma?� I asked with tremendous curiosity.
“Poor love birds, what would they do against their parents. They didn’t marry. They became pioneers in their field, heading the departments as professors in their respective colleges and serving the needy selflessly.�
“Their love is so pure. Some story to derive inspiration from during tough times,� I uttered.
“Yes, Manu. Realise that you are blessed to experience such love for one another. It doesn’t happen to everyone,� she spoke deeply.
“Yes, ma, feeling the blessing. I will call her and talk to her. I should share this remarkable story with her,� I got up to call my girl.
“I still feel they should have tried to make their parents understand their heart,� said Pa.
I saw the couple looking at each other deeply in their eyes. I went ahead with the call standing near the door and admiring the vast greenery we were passing through. When I returned to the cabin, they were resting in their berths. I climbed to my sanctuary and continued reading the book.
When we arrived at our destination, I stood with my backpack and luggage in my hand, ready to leave. The elderly couple got up from their afternoon nap and gathered their items. As the train came to a halt, they started to move out of the cabin. Something made me stop them.
“Ma! Pa! Bless me,� I touched their feet.
“Live long. Live free. Live happily, Manu,� came the blessings from Ma.
“Remain strong and calm, especially when you are in the middle of a storm,� said Pa.
With their beaming smile, they left the train and walked along the platform holding each other’s hands. I stood at the compartment door watching them go, and I wished to see the smile on their faces one more time. But they had disappeared among the scores of people on the platform.
I exited the compartment to a warm reception from my childhood friends. As we moved from the train, one of my friends teased me by saying, “Hey, Manu looks like you enjoyed your journey with cute girls.”�
I smiled and ignored their comments. They kept teasing me when another guy said, “I was eager to meet Rasika, and then I saw the age is 60!�
“What?� I returned to check the passenger list with the names Rasika, 65/F and Shakti, 66/M.
For a second, I froze in surprise. I was happy that Rasika and Shakti united in their final journey of life. I just smiled and went ahead with my life’s journey.
