Bhubaneswar station had undergone a makeover; it wasn’t the same entrance I remembered. The new display for train timings, the bookstalls, the billboards of Tourism department; it was different. Some things may change, but some never will. The crowd of people at the enquiry counter jostling over each other, people sleeping on the floor near the waiting room, people staring at the reservation charts; all this against the backdrop of a huge poster of Sun temple in Konark, the symbol of Orissa’s great architectural history. The contrast was stark.
“Saab Taxi…” the guy woke me up from my trance. I nodded yes.
“Lingaraj Hotel.”
“Sir, 50 rupees”
I didn’t have the mood to negotiate, and nodded in agreement.
The guy immediately ran off to get his taxi, as I smiled at the coolie.
“Coming here after a long time… Things have changed”
“Yes Saab, things have indeed changed”
I went up to help him keep my suitcases down. The taxi guy was backing up towards me, with the rickety ambassador, and its boot open. As soon as he stopped near us, the coolie helped me put the suitcase in. I thanked him, and gave him 20 bucks. He kept smiling. I understood...and took out some change from my rear pocket and handed it over.
“Have a nice tea today…”
“Thanks Saab”
The driver had already closed the boot, and was warming up for the ride.
“I need to smoke. Can we stop somewhere near any tea shop outside the station?”
“Yes, there is a small shop just on the way. We can stop over there”
He started the engine, and the rickety ambassador shook back to life. He drew up the vehicle slowly and turned towards the main road. A few yards later, he slowed the vehicle towards a small tea shop. The morning sun had just awakened the city, and a couple of guys were sitting on the wooden bench and sipping slowly at the piping hot tea.
“One tea...err…make it two. One for this driver and one for me. And one gold kings”
The driver smiled and thanked me.
One good deed for the day, I thought.
I lit my cigarette, and looked at the small calendar hanging inside the shop.
June 10th, 2003. Eight long years had gone past, the same summer in Bhubaneswar.
I took a deep drag from my cigarette…
The Untold Story (1)
The train chugged in at Bhubaneswar station. Morning 7 am. The fresh morning air mixed with the putrefied stench of leftovers splattered on the rail tracks wafted through the air. It was the same Bhubaneswar station, the same smell, the same people that I had left 8 years ago. I had woken up early; I was unable to get a proper sleep. Probably because I was enthusiastic about coming back to Bhubaneswar, or was it the same old feeling creeping inside me for the past 8 years. The early morning hawkers were readying their wares. The mobile book stall was covered in a polythene cover, and the guy was still sipping on his hot tea. The tea vendors were busy walking along the platform, some even crossed over to the other side expecting some other train.
It was finally time to get out. The coolies had already got into the coach, and a couple of them had already sensed that I was easy bait; probably I did not look like one of the natives.
I went up to them and asked in fluent Oriya “How much for these 2 suitcases?”
With a surprising look, he muttered “40… saab”.
“What??? 40… I need to go outside this platform to the rickshaw stand. Not the other side. 10 is ok”
“Saab, you know the place… you are the first guy for us in the morning… Give me 20. Enough”.
And he picked up the suitcases. I could have got him for 10 rupees. Anyway, I was happy that I could still negotiate with them in their native language. Plus, the station held some special memories for me. I wanted to get down as soon as possible.
I went to the door along with the coolies, helping them a little bit with the heavy baggage and stepped out on the platform. Immediately I turned around, as if I saw somebody’s face, a very similar face.
‘Oh no… I must be dreaming, need to catch up on some sleep’. I told myself and saw the coolie guy putting the suitcases on his head. Poor guy, I should tip him some more after he drops me off at the Rickshaw Stand.
The walk to the stand had to go through the collapsible gates, where the usual black coat waala TT stood. He seemed to be standing there from time immemorial onwards. Huge streams of people were rushing towards to the exit, and all he could catch was a glimpse of their ticket. It must be sheer efficiency, I suppose, to catch somebody without a ticket.
I smiled at the guy rushing out of the exit. And then he turned and looked towards my side, and he seemed to smile back at me. I was taken aback; it was a very familiar face. I blinked my eyes, and looked back again. The guy had gone, but he seemed so familiar.
The coolie was walking a couple of feet ahead and he turned to look around to see whether I was coming. We had almost reached the exit gate and the TT would very possibly notice the huge suitcases. I took the ticket out of my jeans back pocket, and gestured him to go ahead.
It was as if only one of the sluice gates of Hirakud dam had been opened. The entire ocean of people seemed to converge at the exit gate. The poor TT was almost stuck to the walls. My coolie seemed like a fish swimming with the shoal, he had easily made it past the exit. 10 bucks extra was worth that effort, that too with my 2 suitcases. I flashed my ticket at the TT, and tried to squeeze past. Somehow my glance fell on the bench near the exit. The girl was looking at me. She gave me a faint smile, as if expecting that I would smile back. It was her. I cannot miss that face in a crowd even after 8 years. I stood transfixed, unaware of the shoal of fishes giving me a curious glare. I smiled back. Time stood still.
“Hello, you have the ticket, right? Com’on, move ahead… you are blocking the way”
“Hey… excuse me”.
I was awakened by the couple of guys shouting at me. The TT was looking at me absurdly. I shook my head, blinked my eyes and looked again at the bench. It was empty.
Oh my… Lack of sleep... Or was it? I just turned around and walked away. A couple of guys came up to me “Saab… taxi?” I just shook my head. My coolie was waiting for me.
It was finally time to get out. The coolies had already got into the coach, and a couple of them had already sensed that I was easy bait; probably I did not look like one of the natives.
I went up to them and asked in fluent Oriya “How much for these 2 suitcases?”
With a surprising look, he muttered “40… saab”.
“What??? 40… I need to go outside this platform to the rickshaw stand. Not the other side. 10 is ok”
“Saab, you know the place… you are the first guy for us in the morning… Give me 20. Enough”.
And he picked up the suitcases. I could have got him for 10 rupees. Anyway, I was happy that I could still negotiate with them in their native language. Plus, the station held some special memories for me. I wanted to get down as soon as possible.
I went to the door along with the coolies, helping them a little bit with the heavy baggage and stepped out on the platform. Immediately I turned around, as if I saw somebody’s face, a very similar face.
‘Oh no… I must be dreaming, need to catch up on some sleep’. I told myself and saw the coolie guy putting the suitcases on his head. Poor guy, I should tip him some more after he drops me off at the Rickshaw Stand.
The walk to the stand had to go through the collapsible gates, where the usual black coat waala TT stood. He seemed to be standing there from time immemorial onwards. Huge streams of people were rushing towards to the exit, and all he could catch was a glimpse of their ticket. It must be sheer efficiency, I suppose, to catch somebody without a ticket.
I smiled at the guy rushing out of the exit. And then he turned and looked towards my side, and he seemed to smile back at me. I was taken aback; it was a very familiar face. I blinked my eyes, and looked back again. The guy had gone, but he seemed so familiar.
The coolie was walking a couple of feet ahead and he turned to look around to see whether I was coming. We had almost reached the exit gate and the TT would very possibly notice the huge suitcases. I took the ticket out of my jeans back pocket, and gestured him to go ahead.
It was as if only one of the sluice gates of Hirakud dam had been opened. The entire ocean of people seemed to converge at the exit gate. The poor TT was almost stuck to the walls. My coolie seemed like a fish swimming with the shoal, he had easily made it past the exit. 10 bucks extra was worth that effort, that too with my 2 suitcases. I flashed my ticket at the TT, and tried to squeeze past. Somehow my glance fell on the bench near the exit. The girl was looking at me. She gave me a faint smile, as if expecting that I would smile back. It was her. I cannot miss that face in a crowd even after 8 years. I stood transfixed, unaware of the shoal of fishes giving me a curious glare. I smiled back. Time stood still.
“Hello, you have the ticket, right? Com’on, move ahead… you are blocking the way”
“Hey… excuse me”.
I was awakened by the couple of guys shouting at me. The TT was looking at me absurdly. I shook my head, blinked my eyes and looked again at the bench. It was empty.
Oh my… Lack of sleep... Or was it? I just turned around and walked away. A couple of guys came up to me “Saab… taxi?” I just shook my head. My coolie was waiting for me.
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