Imperfect Love Story

Old Delhi railway station never looked so beautiful. I had my semester exams after 36 hours, and I had not slept since past 36 hours. The entire electrons in my body were violating the basic law of atomic physics. They were in the outermost orbit, all of them. I had never felt more alive than today. And all of these were, because I got a text message, a couple of hours ago.

“Hi
Going to Jaipur via Delhi…
Just boarded Rajdhani…
B-6”

20 more hours to go… Could not wait at home…What if there happens a vehicle strike. What if I fall asleep and never wake up. 20 hours is nothing. I have waited 7 years.

7 years must have changed a lot of things. Let me close my eyes. Let me picture, how she would look. What she will be wearing. Blue was her favorite color. But she looked divine when she wore white. And that 440 volt smile in her entire face. Those ever twinkling eye would be absolutely ethereal.

Does she still remember those crazy moments and those silly fights, which always gave us a reason to like each other? All the time spent beneath the trees, disputing, agreeing, bullying…growing up in love. I remember every bit of it, every single minute detail…

10 more hours to go…Someone has come here with a bouquet, may be to receive his regular wife. Why the hell I haven’t brought anything for her. She likes public display of affection. Oh God she will speak nonstop, about nothing. Why the hell the gap between the two trains is only 4 hours. I want to listen to her nonstop. I can do this for my entire life.

Why the hell, even Rajdhani Express has to be late for 4 hours.

The cacophony of one siren brings my heartbeat to maximum. The jostling and bustling seem so immaterial. Why can’t I move my feet. Why does everything seem to move in slow motion? Why there are so many people in this world. I must make sure I am in front of B-6.

There she stands in all her glorious pink. I look into her eyes…deep, very deep. She does not smile. She does not even say any socially accepted greetings. Why the hell I am not saying anything. She has applied ‘kajal’ in those already beautiful eyes. How come her face is almost expressionless? Or may be, I don’t know, what this particular type of expression is called.

Another siren brings my heartbeat almost to a stop. I rush to take her luggage; we both run to another platform…another train…perhaps another 7 years.

Why the hell is she still silent? She takes out a gift from her bag for me. It’s a watch…like the one shown in Rang De Basanti. I look at it, with clinical detail. The train starts moving. Oh God, my vision has blurred. I look up to see. A teardrop falls from her eyes. And finally she speaks.

“I love you.”

The train moves…far away from my gaze. I look up in the sky and speak, almost silently.

“I love you too.”