A few days ago, Madhyam found that his credit card has been sliced into two pieces of equivalent measurement; one piece with the card details and the other piece with the magnetic tape and signature. It so happened when the vendor swiped the card at Barista that it fell apart. Madhyam was not mad. He was just amazed by the separation. Like a husband being divorced with the wife; like two inseparable friends falling apart; like a magician being deprived of the wand.
Madhyam wondered there must be some adhesive that glues in those relationships. Once it dries up, things start to roll down the court. It is almost impractical to regress the adherence. Relationships apart, he decided that the card can be taken care of. He found an adhesive in the market and did the fixing. His card was adjoined and more importantly, it became functional as well.
So while he was on his way to Guwahati, he made a call to PVR cinema for a reservation to the show of Taare Zamen Par. He did not want to take any chances. He wanted to watch the movie the day he would reach
By that time the bus reached Tarajan. Madhyam’s eye started to flicker in delight at the sight of her. He knew that Ajori was boarding the same bus as his. That was a result of his little chit chat with her over the mobile the other day. He was certain; he would never like to see the end of this bus journey. He observed her. Next to her seat was a man who would not mind swapping seats! That was a cry out from his heart. But those were the few days; he was not listening to his heart. And the substance of mind was oblivious of such deductions. So he kept quiet. He sent a message to her mobile, ‘we are on the same bus, regards: Madhyam’.
After about 15 minutes, a message came back. “I know”. Madhyam could never figure out if she replied late or there was a problem of the network. But he could well figure out something; the moments of anxiety were still there. Ideally, by now her replying late should not make him anxious. But he could sense the loosening of grips.
“Do I still love her or, these are expressions of a mind who wants a change? “, he was obviously never looking for an answer. He was just hoping for a chanced encounter now that lasts at least for some time. A time that is needed to nip a cup of warm tea while speaking about the feelings of happiness to see her. Madhyam never had the chance to realize the meaning of the word spectacular practically. He was hoping talking to her and spending some time with her will be ostensibly spectacular.
The messaging thing continued as when he made a call to her, the voices were indistinct. But his purpose was not solved. While during the call, he could still hear her voice, whereas a message would take more than a distance of 10 kilometers by the speed of the bus before it actually reached him. Those disconnected calls and missing messages were the numbers on the dashboard. He pictured a blurred image of the future. In a newly developed suburb, inside the non-monolithic panorama of a coffee house, among the few coffee loving fellas, aside the house of a 360 degree view of the street and the visiting passers-by; Madhyam was busy engaging a customer satisfaction activity as the owner of the coffee house. He was engaging the patrons to fill up the feedback form. A lady in her late twenties captured his attention. She was in her denim and a jacket which gave her the look of a college girl. But there was this grit of her eyes, lashed in sparkle and the solid command of the way she handled a phone call over some “copyright” issues, she was definitely in a mission. She resembled to Ajori; except for the accent and the fact that she had firangi cheeks and chin.
“Well gentleman, I have only adhered to the pre agreed conditions that also stipulates that the online print of my book will have separate copyright resolutions. I understand your situation, but I am as good as the conditions which have been laid out. Now if we end on this note of congeniality, I can focus on the reprisal agreement. “, she hung up while she was completing the feedback form. Madhyam gave a gaze, trying to join some missing pieces,” Excuse me madam, you forgot to put up your name and signature”, he asked her.
“Hmm. Do you want my name or the feedback?”
“Ideally both”
“Ideally I should be served coffee for free, but the age of idealism is over”
Listening to her stark reaction, Madhyam gave her a smile and expressed,” Mam, looks like you are preoccupied with something, so never mind. Your feedback was what I was looking for; putting your personal details is optional”, without waiting for any response from her, he continued” But I want to assure you, you will not be contacted for any business. Thank you for your response”
This was the image he had in his mind. Madhyam will figure her out in future when they meet, but either he will not be too sure or he will keep the communication to the minimum. Ajori will not recognize him or even if she does she will act like a stranger to him.
In the meantime, he received another message from her, “What are you doing?”
After a putting a thought, he replied, “Sleeping”
To the reply of that message he received the one that read, “I thought you carry books with you”
“Apparently, I have got something in my sleep more interesting than those books, so “.
There was no reply. The bus halted for a break, on the highway aside the crest of a beautiful tea estate. This halt was for the passengers to release their nature’s call and sometimes as quinsy as casual smoking. So Madhyam decided it will not be a bad idea to stretch his legs and pass by the glance of the beauty on board.
“I forgot that the thing I found in my sleep is right before me, alive and smiling”, Madhyam passed the note to Ajori’s mobile while getting off the bus.
After a few minutes when he did not receive any reply from her, the image of the future he painted a few minutes back has started haunting. They have already started behaving like perfect strangers. Or the adhesive he was contemplating was starting to become extinct. He was not much excited to talk to her as she seems to be enjoying her own cocoon.
“One hell of a smoke”, Madhyam was an amateur smoker. Rather he was a tea/coffee guy. He was very enthused by the phrase “end in smoke”, that’s why he tried smoking sometimes. Funnily he thinks it would have been better had he tried to learn the phrase some other way. This way, he neither learnt it, nor became a smoker that any one would notice. Stepping up to the cabin, he was thinking of ways to avoid looking at her. Fortunately for him, she was asleep when he crossed the aisle. While she was sleeping, her co passenger was leaning towards her in almost a 45 degree slanting which the latter was unaware of. For a moment, Madhyam became jealous of that passenger. “I have known her for almost 8 years now and I have not sat together with her for even an hour. The curves and moves which he is exuberating now, never even occurred to me in my dreams”. With the abrupt course of the moments in the aisle, in which Madhyam was not even a means to the end, he slogged back to his seat.
The bus was accelerating after the momentary break. It was a bright sunny day after two days of continuous rain fall and the greenery of the passing woods and the tea gardens was lightened to perfection. However, the speed of bus and the resultant whim-wham acted as a deterrent to Madhyam’s indulgence. He has this habit of swallowing things at a slow pace, whether its food or beauty of the nature. If it were possible, he would have touched each leaf of the tea plants and hold it for a while and then feel its aroma in the calm sliding by his cheeks.” Why should we consummate things at a pace? Why accomplishing things as fast as it could is given such a huge importance in life? Why is the need for this rush? What is the use of reaching the destination and ending the journey?” This questions had been haunting Madhyam all these times. He had been the victim of the urge for accomplishments himself. “If I had not bugged her for an answer, we would have still been enjoying the journey together”, he was trying to find an answer to his quandary.
Everyone wants to be sure. So did Madhyam. But his anxiety to become sure came to pass later than he or she expected. In fact Madhyam was hugely unsure of his desired result. This could have been the underlying reason for his unwillingness to be sure. In short, he would live in an unsure state which is pleasant, than landing in surety which is surely unpleasant.
As it turned out however, Madhyam’s stubbornness with the status quo failed; his resistance fell like the struggling batsman seeing the twilight of his inning with the striking force of the January end
“Correctly said” a reply came from Ajori. The reply flashed his mind back to the ground. And the ground reality is, he was with Ajori travelling on the same bus. “So near yet so far is no myth”, he replied to her.
Again, as he was expecting a reply, it did not come. It explains an austere verity of his story with her. Ajori will appear in his life, in irregular intervals and for a very brief moment. She will appear when he does not expect her to show up. Conversely, if he hopes for a chance encounter, she will never meet him. Like the messages, coming in bits and without any purpose or substance which can add or adjoin the moments to make it meaningful. The journey that he expects out of many meaningful encounters were never there, but there have been pursuits which results in endless roads, without directions.
Madhyam got back to his thoughts.
“You live in a fool’s paradise”, she replied when Madhyam popped his question up, once again. This time he thought it was for final. Her answer did not make him upset, but the way she answered him was enough to shake his world. He thought that was the end. That was the end of a story which had nothing but nothingness. Madhyam was however terribly wrong. His love for Ajori never came to an end. Over the years, it kept growing. But he could control his manifestations. He tried to keep things under the carpet. Loving her when she would not; Living her when she was not. That was his way of life.
The bus halted for Lunch break. The usual 40-45 minutes break that these buses that ply between Jorhat and Guwahati.
Madhyam and Ajori got off the bus at Amoni for the lunch break. While Ajori was still in her sleep, Madhyam was in his dream despite the fact that he was awake. It goes without mention that, given an opportunity, both would prefer a better place to mingle; forget lunch. But out of Hobson’s choice, they had to resign to the ambience of the food joint or the dhaba.
Amoni is a small place, nearby the district of Nagaon. The place is popular for scattered places where people travelling to either direction alongside the NH 37, stop for breaks; lunch or otherwise. It does not provide best in class ambience; it is a common sight of a market full of those food-joints or small provision stores. For a juvenile soul, it will be worthwhile to smoke or to have a paan; to release the fatigue in front of the lazy paanwala, who would say, ‘Bondhu, did you watch Zubin’s last performance, he is less a singer and more of a drunk!!’
In front of the motel where Madhyam and Ajori went for their lunch, there is a fuel station newly opened. A couple of bikers went to fuel up their bike-tanks. Those were unmanned, not by design though. The attendants were sleeping inside the office, which is how the voice of the enraged bikers were heard, in an effort to bring those back to duty. Madhyam and Ajori showed the similar level of slothfulness for going down to lunch.
The incessant cry of the children, the parents of whom had a hard time controlling and intervening their desires, Madhyam lost his panache for a good time with Ajori already. He did not fell the desire to find another suitable place to sit. After he saw that Ajori has found a place, amidst the crowd to sit, he just followed suit. She was ordering food to the waiters; he approached her and retorted, “Don’t eat”.
“Excuse me”, Ajori snapped.
“I mean to say, I have brought home cooked food, please don’t order”, Madhyam gathered fortitude to make the proposition.
Madhyam could not determine whether the home cooked food or the way he approached her to eat with him made her smile. But he could find a way to come out of the perplexity; he just sat down and took the
Ajori admired the way the food was being packed. Seven chapattis packed in an aluminum foil, with three different kinds of aachars in three different aluminum foils; daal and aloo matar ki sabzi.
“Did Pehi packed all these for you?” she could not help asking Madhyam, while saying this she gave her trademark smile a much needed direction and potential. Madhyam was constantly looking at her; her each word was like the rain drops on the mirror of a window, falling down slowly, making the vision of the outside impaired for a while; the smile as adorable as the sunrise on a tempest; enough for Madhyam to overlook the ambience he cared so much about a while ago.
“Perhaps”, Madhyam eluded himself, “Pehi knows that I always have a company with me, with whom I might share food”. Humor does not go well with him; he appreciates that. But he thought there was no harm in trying. He wanted to snap a bite and nosh, by himself. He was aware that was a luxury, he could hardly afford. In stead, he started eating. And looked at her while she was having her lunch. Every time when they meet, they enter this no man’s land; where they act like strangers; as if they have forgot how to communicate; silence seems to prevail all the way.
“The food is good”, Ajori exclaimed while looking at his face with a surmise; as if she wanted to tell him something else and talked about the food.
“The shirt looks good on you”, he said elatedly as if he had discovered something interesting. She was wearing dark red shirt. While seeing her nodding her head in the direction of South and North, he asked her, “You say your favorite color is green, I haven’t seen you wearing one.”, after a pose, “ I of course understand, that I have met you after a gap of 2 years, so apparently your taste might have changed. Right?” Madhyam tried to bring a depth to the otherwise lackluster conversation. Before she could reply, he asked her again, “How about special chai of Amoni?”
She smiled again. She knew Madhyam had this creepy habit of having chai, regardless of time and place. She nodded again.
“Hahahaha”, she continued, “I can never forget your style of having coffee at Kamla Nagar”, and she could hardly stop laughing, “Your bravado of sipping hot coffee with a straw and “, she tried to control her breath and continued, “And your face after that, was unforgettable for me”.
That was an incident 3 years ago. Madhyam was thrilled to discover a sense of nostalgia within her; suggestive of paraphernalia they secretly pursue. It again speaks of a contrast between the two; this was one of those incidents which Madhyam almost religiously annihilated, while she treasured it to her heart. He thought it would have been nice, two list of such thing could be compiled; one comprising of things which Madhyam kept in memory, Ajori shrugged off; and one list with the vice versa. Perhaps there will not be a third list between them, in which there are things which both treasured with equal compassion.
By now, both had finished having food and waited for the special chai Ajori ordered. Both knew that this was the only occasion during the journey; they had talked and spent some time. Madhyam never thought she would have ordered chai for herself, as she was mostly a kind of cold coffee/lime juice type girl as he had so far known her.
“When have you developed this chai habit?”
“Ask me why I have developed this!”, while saying that she kept a close eye on the bus to check if it was there, “I will blame it on the surroundings; while preparing for the semester-end exams, to prevent myself from falling down to sleep or more so when I noticed other girls in the hostel taking the much needed refuge in the aroma of the chai, I also fell pray to it.”, while explaining this she forbore a hasty mood swing on her face, “ Histrionics, you know, I no longer found here in Guwahati; these are people of your community in the hostel, but I could never be closer to anyone . I miss days in
Madhyam was also surprised by the fact that Ajori cut short her stay in
“Why have you come back to Guwahati?” the words came out from Madhyam, though he never intended so.
“Forget it now”, she replied, “Finish your chai, the bus is about to leave”.
“Take this please”, Madhyam offered her a Dairy Milk chocolate. He knew, she loved chocolate, in fact it was her constant companion during travel and otherwise also.
The bus will resume its journey; so will life. Madhyam and Ajori had become just like passengers on a journey called life. They had their share of quality moments when time intended to. They passed their lives, some times being aloof of each other and sometimes with greater awareness.
“So, how do you plan to celebrate your birthday?” Ajori asked him. This is one occasion; they have always talked to each other, even though it was for a minute. Ajori had never forgotten to wish him on his birthday, ever since she became cognizant of the day.
Madhyam thought, this is one of the things of the third list he was contemplating about. “Well, I will for sure wait to here from you”, Madhyam passed it while crossing the aisle to take his seat in the bus.
Ajori gave her trademark smile; and Madhyam collected it in his memory; he knew, this will definitely glue him into her memories; for better or for worse.
No sooner had he took his seat, he received a message from her, “Happy rest of the journey”.
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