Chapter 1
‘You know, it might be fun.’
I clicked my tongue at my sister’s obvious attempt at optimism. My damned exam was preponed and I had to look for the cheapest tickets available to get me to Delhi. Why I was even going through with this whole ordeal was beyond me. If anything, the stress of it was exhausting. It wasn’t like the exam was going to change how terrible I was at studying anyway, this whole thing was just an excuse to feel like I was actually doing something, no matter how pointless it felt. I suppose hanging out with my friends was a fun prospect, but I could not bring myself to be excited about that either. This trip was supposed to be exciting, with everyone free from the crushing agony of the past two years, reconnecting, and celebrating the start of a new year away from the prying eyes of parents. It should’ve been exciting. A preponed exam just meant more time to myself, away from the disappointed gazes of my family. If it was up to me, I’d be in my bed. Ah, scratch that. Even the thought of my bed was not comforting. I shoved a hoodie into my bag, trying to distract from the onslaught of unpleasant thoughts that were sure to worm their way into my mind at a later hour. My sister looked at me with concern but quickly averted her eyes. It irritated me, this look. I had seen it mirrored on many faces. Friends, and relatives, all wearing a mask of pity, ‘Oh your score doesn’t matter that much.’ ‘It’s still good!’ ‘You’ve got other strengths’. I grit my teeth, swallowing my quickly rising anger down into my chest. It benefits no one, I was told. Pulling on the zipper with more force than was strictly necessary, I shut the bag. My sister had taken this as a sign to exit, closing the door on her way out.
The exam was on the day after tomorrow. My hands trembled. Taking slow, deep breaths, I sat down on the floor. My loud breathing seemed to echo in the dead quiet of the room. The exam. The thing I was so ill-prepared for. What was I supposed to do? There wasn’t a chance in hell that I would clear it so what next? You had to be talented to do anything else, and I was just…mediocre. All in all, I had nothing. It filled me with dread to imagine the disappointed faces of my parents when they realize that they hadn’t given birth to an exceptional child, or even a useful one. I pressed my hand to my mouth to stifle any sobs that dared escape me. Shutting my eyes tight, I tried to focus on the upcoming trip. Only a few hours, then I’d be on my way. Go figure, it didn’t help either. I had never been big on train journeys since childhood. When I was seven, I had gotten lost at a station. I still remember clearly the terror of not knowing where my parents were, and the faces of strangers that seemed to be floating by, intermingling into twisted caricatures of their original selves. Their grating voices were still fresh in my ears.
But right now was not the time to think about that. It was just one night. My sister was right. I would go to sleep and be there before I knew it. I stood up, poised as ever, and switched off my light. Curling inside my blanket, I waited for the dread to pass.
Awful.
Extremely awful.
The train was chock-full of people, refusing to move the dang line forward so I could squeeze my way to my berth. They moved their heavy bags back and forth in the narrow corridor, pushing my back against the seats. I pushed back, not unlike a bull, and dragged the heavy bags toward my allotted seat. I had the uppermost berth, which annoyed me more. On the bottom seat sat an old lady, dressed in a white saree. She moved aside a little, to allow me space to stuff my bag under the seat. It was unnecessary, there were no bags under there, but I didn’t care enough to be intrigued. After settling the trolley bag, (the blue handle got stuck twice) I threw my backpack to the top berth and climbed up, not wanting to chitchat with the people happily talking amongst each other. I laid down, the tight space not enough for me to sit up straight. I chanced a look at the berth adjacent to mine, which had a person wrapped up tightly in the railway-provided blanket, and turned away from everyone. I wondered if they were actually comfortable like that or just trying really hard to ignore everyone else. The discomfort of this half-laid-back position grated on my nerves even more. The layers upon layers of clothing I had worn also weighed me down, leaving a dull ache in my straining muscles I was constantly aware of. I shifted and tossed until I found a semi-comfortable position. Huffing an annoyed breath, I glared at the white roof as if it had personally wronged me.
‘Would you like some pumpkin seeds?’
Turning my head to the left, I saw two big eyes staring up at me. I shifted to the side, to see a woman holding out a packet, smiling in a way so gentle I was taken aback. She was a few years older than me, probably newlywed (apart from the bright line of sindoor and red bindi she just glowed like a new bride) , her golden bangles shining at her wrists. Her dupatta shimmered in a way I found mesmerizing, even in the shitty train lighting. Everything on her looked expensive, except for a plain black thread around her neck, a small gold bead hanging from it. I had never seen such a simple mangal sutra. She nudged the packet towards me again.
‘Ah, thanks.’ I politely took the packet from her and shook out a few seeds into my palm. The meager dinner at home had only served to make me more hungry and I wasn’t about to turn down an offer of snacks. I mentally thanked the universe for placing this kind woman in my vicinity. As I returned the packet, she spoke again
‘I’m Ayushi.’
A little surprised by the unprompted conversation, I muttered out
‘I’m Simran.’
‘Oh like the movie!’
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the joke she seemed so pleased about. Before I had a chance to figure out what the polite response would be, a man spoke up
‘Hey sister, you got your blanket, right?’
The man seemed to be the same age as Ayushi, fiddling with the bedding on the upper side berth. He wore a simple blue kurta and would’ve been quite unremarkable if not for the eyes, which were quite striking. His manner was so gentle it was almost feminine. My grandfather would’ve huffed at it, and I was glad to not have him here. I started to speak but Ayushi beat me to the punch.
‘Babe, she’s stuffed it under her head.’
I flushed immediately. Her tone wasn’t mean, if anything, it was very matter-of-fact. It still felt like I should justify myself.
‘I just wanted to lean a bit more.’
Ah, now I sounded defensive. Her big eyes on me once again, she seemed to be a bit embarrassed.
‘No, of course! It’s obvious, you aren’t sleeping, so it’s only...’ She seemed to be struggling, hands gesturing wildly.
‘..the pillows are awfully thin anyway! It’s like sleeping on a board! Aren’t I right Kush?’ Her gaze was now directed to the man who had asked me about the blanket. He had turned around at the mention of his name, a confused sort of look on his face.
‘...uh...yes?’ He asked, in a way of response. I assumed he was more interested in fiddling with the bedding than conversing with people his wife seemed intent on befriending.
‘Well, you from Delhi?’ She asked, turning back to me, the panic still evident in her too-big smile and wide eyes.
‘No, I’m from Jammu. I have an exam in Delhi.’
She seemed to relax more at my response, taking it as permission to continue the conversation.
‘Ah, a student! Remember, an exam is not the end of the world. A piece of paper can’t decide your future. Einstein said that, I think.’
I nodded, not wanting to add that I did not care about the exam one bit, or that I was definitely going to fail. She didn’t need to know that.
‘Aye, don’t put ideas into the child’s head! You need ta get into a good college and make your ma and pa proud!’
An old man had suddenly decided to insert himself into the frankly dull conversation. He was lying in the previously folded-up middle berth just below mine. I leaned out to look at him, regretting it immediately. He reminded me of my grandfather, in a nauseating sort of way. He was wearing a brown sweater and a knitted black cap, that fit snugly over his ears. His large white mustache paired with his pot belly should’ve made him look jolly, but his furrowed brow suggested that wasn’t the case. One arm under his head and the other on his stomach, he stared at me intently. Ayushi looked at him, brows knit and lower lip jutting out, not dissimilar to a pout. Lifting a fat finger, he pointed it at my face.
‘Don’t ya run around causin’ trouble for your poor parents! Study, it’s for your own good!′ He barked out, and settled back into his former position, having provided his two cents about the conversation which had all but stopped now.
After a beat of silence, the middle-aged man opposite his bed, who had been playing snake on his phone all this time perked up
‘Oi old man, let the kids do whatever, it’s not the 60s anymore.’
I watched horrified, as the man continued playing the game as if he hadn’t just added to the drama that was quickly unfolding in compartment B12. His shoulder-length hair was tied in a loose ponytail, the game reflecting on his thick glasses. The old man’s wrinkled face twisted in annoyance. He clicked his tongue and added in a lower voice,
‘A failure like ya wouldn’t get it anyway’.
Even Ayushi was taken aback by the response. The man’s body shot up immediately in an attempt to sit up straight but his head was met with the solid surface above him, and the resulting thud left me cringing. He furiously rubbed at this head, still somehow finding the strength to retort to the old man’s insulting words
‘I’m a writer! I pen down revolutionary ideas in a national newspaper!’
The old man humphed and spat out in a voice laced with poison
‘Good-for-nothing communist. You got a problem with the Government, why don’t ya try runnin’ it instead of hiding behind ya shitty articles?′
The guy was red in the face, clutching the railing with both his hands, leaning so far out I thought he was going to fall at any moment. He was gritting his teeth, presumably trying to decide if hitting an old man would get him a long sentence.
Kush had apparently decided that he was not going to let this escalate any further and added
‘Guys, why don’t we have some tea first?’
This had the immediate effect of dousing the embers of the fire brewing between the two men. A small styrofoam cup was handed to me too, and I happily sipped at my chai.
