Firsts

Arrival of the Normandy Train, Gare Saint-Lazare, 1877 by Claude Monet

It was a summer Sunday. Due to my negligence and self-absorption, I hadn’t met Aseem and Gloria for quite a while. Deciding to put others before me for the day, we planned a meeting. And we did meet at our usual destination in Dadar for which I traveled by the local train from Mulund. Now one thing you have to understand about Bombay is that it never stops. Ever. In the nooks and crannies of the city, it still breathes and runs – slowly, silently.

So on this Sunday, when the trains were having their weekly ritual of Megablocks and running later than usual, the May heat and my second-day of period decided to take a toll on me. Suffocated in that train compartment by human bodies, sweating, I almost fainted – standing there near the door, afraid of falling down the platform by the persistent human wave. And this was right before Dadar station was to arrive. With all my might, I kept my cool and got down at the station without succumbing to the darkness. My vision was all technicolored. If I wasn’t so scared out of my mind, I would have been fascinated. Tripping so wildly without any substance.

-

Why the mundane flashback? When I recovered, the incident reminded me of the essay topics we used to get in school – write about ‘Your day at a train station’ or ‘A Rainy Day You Remember’.

-

In my 21 years of existence, I have never ever gotten to experience the first rain. And that was a tragedy for someone like me – who loved monsoon with her whole heart. It always bothered me that I hadn’t gotten drenched in the downpour of the first real rain. Until last year.

Like our ritual of almost every day, AB, Giri, and I met up after work. These two are my childhood friends – the ones I hate to love. We met at our usual adda, where Giri got busy schmoozing with his girlfriend. And suddenly the rain started pouring down. By now AB had lit up the roll so we ran to find a cover where we could smoke. Half wet and shivering, AB and I stood under a roof, as the clouds roared, lightning danced and rain fell in torrents. And I stood there with a stupid grin on my face. Shivering. Smoking. Realizing the freedom of the moment, I passed the roll to AB and just stood under the downpour, soaking my bones with rain. Later, AB and I went to get our staple after-smoke-mango-drink. It was pouring down, we couldn't stop laughing because he couldn’t really drive with all the rain getting in his face. We were both drenched.

In my 21 years of existence, I have never been happier.

-

I wish the topics for essays I mentioned before, were given to us when we are adults in college and not kids in schools. Yes, children have unparalleled imagination because they don’t have barriers. But our words are much more powerful because of the experience and the barriers. Because we have learned to break them and be free. And there’s nothing as liberating as that.