My tribute to one of the greatest writers of india. Mr ruskin bond, a heartfelt gratitude for all the wonderful stories you have written and making me understand the importance of little things in life.
I had the compartment to myself up to Solan, or I thought. Then a girl got in. The couple who saw her off were probably her parents. They seemed very anxious about her comfort, and the women gave the girl a detailed instruction as to where to keep her things, when not to lean out of window, et cetra et cetra.
I was little oblivious of the people around me. She got up to adjust her luggage, in the overhead luggage shelf. She was standing very close to me, so close that the perfume from her hair was tantalizing. I wanted to raise my hand and touch her hair but she moved away, only the scent of her perfume lingered where she had stood. It would take me some time to discover something about her looks, but I liked her voice. They called goodbyes and the train pulled out of the station.
‘Are you going to shimla?’ I asked
It was a pleasant morning but the girl had a shawl thrown across her shoulder. Her feet were in a pair of ordinary sandals and she was wearing a purple coloured Salwar-kamize. But she was young and graceful.
‘Yes, my aunt is meeting me there.’ the girl said.
She had peach-blossom complexion, set off by shiny black hair and dark eloquent eyes, typical of hill people.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked
‘To Solan, and then to Kasauli.’
‘But you could have gone by road.’
‘Yes, but this is the best time.’ I said recalling my memories. ‘The hills are covered with wild dahlias, the sun is delicious so a trip by train is much preferred.’
She was silent I wondered if my words had touched her, or whether she thought me as a romantic fool, or just another weird guy. She looked out of the window for sometime and neither of us said anything.
‘Quite a misty morning, isn’t it?’
‘Oh! Perfectly misty’ I said making a pretence of observing the landscape.
I turned from the window and faced the girl, and for a while we sat in silence.
‘ You have an interesting face.’ I remarked
I was becoming quite daring, I thought. But it was a safe remark, few girls can resist flattery.
She laughed pleasantly – a clear ringing laugh.
‘It’s nice to be told that I have a interesting face. I’m tired of people telling me I have a pretty face.’
Oh, but you do have a pretty face I thought: and aloud I said
‘Well, an interesting face can also be pretty.’
She looked wonderingly into my eyes, as though searching for something. I don’t know if she found what she was looking for, but she smiled.
‘Thank you’ she said. After a moment or so
‘But why are you so serious?’ she asked
I thought then, I would try to laugh for her. But the thought of laughing made me feel troubled and lonely. So I just smiled faintly.
‘We’ll be soon at your station’ she said
‘Oh, yes we will indeed’ I said glancing at my watch
‘Thank god, that it’s a small journey’ I said ‘I can’t possibly think of sitting down for more than 3-4 hours’
And yet I was prepared to sit there for almost any length of time. Just to listen her talk. Her voice had the sparkle of the mountain stream. As soon as I leave the train, I thought, she would forget our brief encounter; But It would stay with me for the rest of the journey, and a little more after.
The engine’s whistle shrieked, the carriage wheels changed their sound and rhythm. I got up and began to collect my things. The train drew slowly into the station. Outside there was the shouting of porters and vendors.
‘Goodbye’ said the girl
‘Bye’ I grinned ‘have a pleasant journey’
‘Yes, thank you’ said the girl
The guard blew the whistle and the train moved off. We watched each other till the signal box came in the way, and then the train took a turn.
I stood there for some time. There were so many things happening on the platform, and yet I could not rid my mind of the picture of the girls face and her dark, smouldering eyes. It was then that it dawned to me that, our relationship was rather unusual. It was like two logs meeting in a river and then parting only to meet never.
And the words of Ralph Hodgson came out of my mouth:
‘Time, you old gipsy man,
Will you not stay?
Put up your caravan,
Just for one day.’
I was little oblivious of the people around me. She got up to adjust her luggage, in the overhead luggage shelf. She was standing very close to me, so close that the perfume from her hair was tantalizing. I wanted to raise my hand and touch her hair but she moved away, only the scent of her perfume lingered where she had stood. It would take me some time to discover something about her looks, but I liked her voice. They called goodbyes and the train pulled out of the station.
‘Are you going to shimla?’ I asked
It was a pleasant morning but the girl had a shawl thrown across her shoulder. Her feet were in a pair of ordinary sandals and she was wearing a purple coloured Salwar-kamize. But she was young and graceful.
‘Yes, my aunt is meeting me there.’ the girl said.
She had peach-blossom complexion, set off by shiny black hair and dark eloquent eyes, typical of hill people.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked
‘To Solan, and then to Kasauli.’
‘But you could have gone by road.’
‘Yes, but this is the best time.’ I said recalling my memories. ‘The hills are covered with wild dahlias, the sun is delicious so a trip by train is much preferred.’
She was silent I wondered if my words had touched her, or whether she thought me as a romantic fool, or just another weird guy. She looked out of the window for sometime and neither of us said anything.
‘Quite a misty morning, isn’t it?’
‘Oh! Perfectly misty’ I said making a pretence of observing the landscape.
I turned from the window and faced the girl, and for a while we sat in silence.
‘ You have an interesting face.’ I remarked
I was becoming quite daring, I thought. But it was a safe remark, few girls can resist flattery.
She laughed pleasantly – a clear ringing laugh.
‘It’s nice to be told that I have a interesting face. I’m tired of people telling me I have a pretty face.’
Oh, but you do have a pretty face I thought: and aloud I said
‘Well, an interesting face can also be pretty.’
She looked wonderingly into my eyes, as though searching for something. I don’t know if she found what she was looking for, but she smiled.
‘Thank you’ she said. After a moment or so
‘But why are you so serious?’ she asked
I thought then, I would try to laugh for her. But the thought of laughing made me feel troubled and lonely. So I just smiled faintly.
‘We’ll be soon at your station’ she said
‘Oh, yes we will indeed’ I said glancing at my watch
‘Thank god, that it’s a small journey’ I said ‘I can’t possibly think of sitting down for more than 3-4 hours’
And yet I was prepared to sit there for almost any length of time. Just to listen her talk. Her voice had the sparkle of the mountain stream. As soon as I leave the train, I thought, she would forget our brief encounter; But It would stay with me for the rest of the journey, and a little more after.
The engine’s whistle shrieked, the carriage wheels changed their sound and rhythm. I got up and began to collect my things. The train drew slowly into the station. Outside there was the shouting of porters and vendors.
‘Goodbye’ said the girl
‘Bye’ I grinned ‘have a pleasant journey’
‘Yes, thank you’ said the girl
The guard blew the whistle and the train moved off. We watched each other till the signal box came in the way, and then the train took a turn.
I stood there for some time. There were so many things happening on the platform, and yet I could not rid my mind of the picture of the girls face and her dark, smouldering eyes. It was then that it dawned to me that, our relationship was rather unusual. It was like two logs meeting in a river and then parting only to meet never.
And the words of Ralph Hodgson came out of my mouth:
‘Time, you old gipsy man,
Will you not stay?
Put up your caravan,
Just for one day.’
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