Skip to main content

The Girl in the Rickshaw

It was a long day at college. I was sitting in the library gazing past the window the sun was setting in beyond the horizon as I was penning down my thoughts. Few students were sitting down and reading in the library. It was closing time the housekeeping staff was cleaning the library floor as I was packing my bag.

I left the library at six and started walking towards the station. Its a ten-minute walk from my college. Boarding the 6:12pm train back to Thane I stood inside the boggie amidst the crowd reading Neither Here Nor There by Bill Bryson.

Thane station was abuzz with passengers, travelers traveling across places. It is one of the busiest stations on the central line. I walked down the busy street full of hawkers selling their goods, hurried crowd and rickshaws.

I found a rickshaw, it ferried the passengers to and fro on a sharing basis. I was waiting for my co-passengers to join in. As I was thumbing Neither Here Nor There a veiled girl came towards the Rickshaw, I could see only her eyes and they were beautiful I would say.

I stole half a glance, she was wearing a white top and blue jeans. I could feel I had seen her somewhere but didn’t remember. For a couple of moments, we looked at each other glancing through the mirror. She lowered her veil, she had a beautiful face, strong cheekbones, a small nose, and curved lips. “I have seen you somewhere. Do you have an elder sister ?” I asked. She looked at me as if searching for something in the depths of my eyes. “No, actually I am the elder one.” She said with a smile.

“I am Sanket. I study Computer Engineering. Our German teacher looks like you.” I said. “Oh is it, I am Shruti. I study Biology.” She said. “I like reading books by Bill Bryson, Ruskin Bond, and Ernest Hemingway. But last time I read anything Biology, was a long time ago.” I said. “Yeah, but you had to wrestle with all the math.” She said. “Yes that we had to, it was fun upto a certain point and then it was just outright scary,” I said.

“I pen down my thoughts every sometimes. I take a walk in the woods, in our very own Yeoor Hills. Amidst the trees I find my words.” I said. “Wow that’s interesting, I have a food blog on Instagram.” She said as the Rickshaw took a slight turn round the circle.

The conversation flowed from our shared interest in travel, food, and sports. “I represented my school in athletics back in my school days. I used to sprint.” She said with certain misty-eyed fondness. “I played cricket in my school days, those were one of the beautiful days where we played and thought of nothing else,” I said.

We exchanged numbers before getting down at our stop. “Can we go for a walk down the road? I asked expecting her to find some reason to say no. But she said yes and we walked down the road. I could feel the warmth and a sense of connection. “What’s your mother tongue?” I asked. “You will have to guess that,” she said throwing up a challenge.

I think you are Tamilian. She shook her head. A Punjabi. No, try again. “I know those eyes say you are a Maharashtrian,” I said. “Bingo that’s a good guess.” She said as we walked along the road with Yeoor Hills at the backdrop. “I find these hills extremely beautiful, I have been going there since my childhood,” I said. “Sweet Coincidence, I go there for jogging as well when I get time.” She said as we walked along the asphalt road. We took a left turn towards her house. I wanted the walk not to end and was trying to find reasons to extend it, but I found none. We stood in front of her complex. “What’s your plan?” She asked. “I am going to the gym and will play my tabla afterward,” I said. “That is amazing.” She said. “I had a really nice time. It was nice meeting you.” She said. “I found it the same,” I said. The sudden prospect of saying good-bye pulled at my heart and despite my stoic expression, she sensed it. She stepped forward and pulled her hand out. I received her gesture warmly with a shake of the hand. I held her hand for several seconds, longer than probably I should have, then I let it go. I couldn’t say anything. “We would meet soon again... in the rickshaw.” She said. “I would love to,” I said with a soft smile and a tender wave as I began walking towards my home.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Newton: A Perspective

A hero can be anyone, even a man doing something as simple and reassuring as putting a coat around a young boy’s shoulders to let him know the world hadn’t ended.                     -Batman, The Dark Knight Rises Newton is a story that resonates with this quote. Its a story of a common man who sets on a mission to conduct fair elections in Konar, Chattisgarh amidst resistance from maoists and naxalites. Pairing up with corrupt government officials and promising yet indifferent co-workers, honesty and perseverance are Newton’s best allies. With Cynicism and scepticism ruling the day and a vote count as meagre as seventy six. Newton quickly realises that he has to get things in order. He tries to educate the oppressed villagers about election who have already given up on the government, but is shoved aside by the security head who says voting machine is a toy and election is a lottery. “ Great work takes time...

Internship Saga - Part 2

The canteen was filled with employees from all the floors. But the canteen seemed to be a chilled out place with a lot of delicacies to try. I ordered a Mysore Masala Dosa. The chutney was tangy and sambhar was lip smacking. I gorged onto the dosa in no time as I was hungry. We came back to the Board Room and were waiting for Arya. “How was your lunch guys? Arya asked as she came in the Board room. “It was good.” We said in unison. The rest of the day was spent knowing about the work and various food outlets in the Corporate.Inc. It was Monday a fresh day of a new week. I was pumped up to start my work and get on with the issue raising stuff. But we had to wait until afternoon before the things streamlined. Waiting in the Board room we were passing our time reading books and watching the world outside the glass panes. Then suddenly in a moment’s time, one of the Corporate’s Sirs came in the Board room. “Good Afternoon, I am Nelson Marcus, the manager at the Corporate.Inc.” The ma...

A walk in the Yeoor

I woke up, sitting on my bed wrapped in my sheets. The floor was too cold. Taking a cold shower got me up and running. Outside it was still dark, a bark of the dog and the hustle of the milkman enlivened the silence of the early hours of the morning. I was rubbing my hands vigorously to keep them warm. I walked steadily towards Yeoor hills. It is a range of pristine mountains that is spread across Thane and runs up towards Borivali. It has been a hub for fitness enthusiasts, nature buffs and trekkers since a long time. I have been regularly jogging the Yeoor Hills since the first grade. I still remember my first visit to Yeoor, I had joined a badminton training camp. The coach there would take us to jog over the roads of Yeoor. As a kid, I was excited to reach the summit as soon as possible. It was a great feeling jogging across the trees on the asphalt road that led us up top. Over the years the road has remained the same but I have found many routes through the woods that lead us ...