The Stalker

Note: I apologize for my prolonged absence in this sphere. I have 5 scripts which are in the draft stage and guess what!! I stumble into this. As always the standard disclaimer shall follow:

Disclaimer: All the characters in the story are fictional and bear no resemblance to anybody living or dead. In an attempt to challenge the writer within I might have created characters but the feelings and the emotion exuded are true to my conscience and are as I would have reacted to such a situation.

Stalk: To follow or observe (a person) persistently, especially out of obsession or derangement.

This is my 7th trip to Mumbai in as many months and the schedule remains pretty much the same. Bunk the Friday. Take the 11:45 AM train. Yet! This is the third time I have had to catch the train while it was on the move. Its surprising how much I have gotten used to the "gas chambers". To give you a background, "the gas chamber" is my grandfather's unique way of waking me up. Unlike other elders he does not shake you up or shriek loudly into your ears or in short does not make a la-ghost appearance in your romantic dreams. He walks into your room, switches the A/C and the fans off; closes all the doors and windows and a very familiar smell of sweat ruins your otherwise rose filled gardens of romance. And thus the gas chamber name that chokes you awake. But surprisingly I have gotten so much used to it or maybe my dreams are clogged of dark-room client visits that I don't make out the difference.

Anyways I get up at 10:30 and realize I have an appointment to keep. So, 30th January 2009, 11:45 AM and I am still outside Central Station quarreling with the Autowaala. I throw a 100 at him and dash inside. The train is already half way down the platform and instead of Kajol its a pantry-car dood throwing up a hand to pull me in. After emptying a one litre water bottle, I slowly take the ticket out of my bag to check my reservation. S5, 72. 72? Does it really exist. Oh! Why not? Just the one near the loo. What luck! The consolation though was there was a foyer like space between the loo and my berth. How I wished that would absorb the smell as much as the wait-listed passengers haunting your berths?

Apparently as my luck would have it, my obsession of traveling light was taken by mom too seriously. She made my bag real light. No change of jeans, a hand-kerchief sized towel and to top it all no blanket. That was her way of saying "You are old enough to pack,!" At least she threw in a couple of books. Actually - amazing books. The best non-fiction and fiction books I have ever read would be on this journey( Liar's Poker - Michael Lewis and A thousand Splendid Suns - Khaled Hosseini). Both of them deserve a special blog mention. So lets reserve them for later. As I laid back all the items in the bag, I took temporary shelter in the opposite seat. A shrill voice shrieked " Ye humaara seat hai!" I was taken aback for a moment. It was a middle-aged woman who had come as a family of four which included two F 21s and the sacrilege I committed was I was seated beside one. I politely replied " I'll shift as soon as I am done with my packing. " Surprisingly the fourth sat between me and one of the F21s. I was amused and hurt at the same time. I was wearing formal shoes, a clean and normal black jeans, a decent tee with a respectable face. But that wasn't only why I was hurt. I knew they were F 21s only from the reservation list. Otherwise I would have mistaken them for married ladies in their late 30s who had cooked their faces in frying pans instead of food. Pardon the harsh thoughts, thats how mad I was.

I quickly stood up and started placing my bag in the upper berth that I heard another Excuse me. I am tired of this. Cant a man stand anywhere he wants! I looked behind and what I saw made my face go blank and my eyelids shut so slowly making sure I had captured it in my mind. An angel with beautiful eyes and just the right-shaped nose with a pretty smile on her face. From my height, the next thing I saw was how deep her cleavage ran. But the shutters shut too quickly as soon as they realized they were being watched by the very same eyes. It took another Excuse me for the Qutab Minar to sway across and let the angel pass. This is going to be my day, I thought as I sat down with my book. Hours passed and during one of my occasional breaks I saw the angel cross again. This time I saw her walk from a distance and my eyes just wouldn't leave her eyes. Nothing turns on a guy more than deep, expressive eyes. Well!! Almost nothing, to be true. I just closed the shutters and the gardens of roses reappeared. Not long, a smell more nauseating than sweat were right in front of me. Seat 72 was my grandfather's way of saying, you escaped my gas chamber, here is my revenge. I switched positions and sat on the other side.

About half-hour later I saw the angel again passing by me. This time the shutters didn't close so fast but were puzzled and quizzed her waistline. For a person who frequents the pantry, she has an awesome waistline. This obsession wasn't received too well by her eyes and they gave a disgusting look. Embarrassed, I went back to my book. That was so aweful! Why do I make it look so obvious? It was late and the number of passengers eying me to shut down the lights seemed to be increasing. I switched off the lights and went to sleep. It was colder than I thought it would be and I tried to wriggle a lot in the child-berth they had provided me that I almost fell off. The foyer was filled with people sleeping on the floor that it took an effort to go past them to the doors. I opened the door and a cool breeze freshened my senses. I was just about to close the door that something made me turn back and I saw someone passing by it to the next compartment. It must be her! It must be her! I quickly closed the door, bolted it and looked she was gone. The eternal debate began! Should I? Shouldn't I? I looked at the watch and it showed 3AM. It was a split second decision and I had made up my mind.

Its so dark. Where could she have gone? And how far is the pantry-car from this compartment. I kept walking till the pantry car showed up and not her. I shouldn't have. That was so dumb but I wasn't getting any sleep either. So I walked past gloomily. Hi! I turned back and there she was. The dim foyer light was enough for me to take a glance at her shining face. Hi! I am Antra.

Me: Hi!
Antra: Were you following me or something?
Me: No.. No..no...no... I was actually going to the pantry
Antra: At 3 in the morning. Really?
Me(blushing): Well!!!
Antra(smiling): I know. No blanket. No sleep. Right?
Me(questioningly): Yeah! But...
Antra: You are shivering and you are carrying a light bag. So I figured out.
Me: Have you been observing me?
Antra(sarcastically): Yeah! Sure!! Humor yourself! So which MBA college did you pass out from?
Me: MBA? How? Ok! For how long have you been stalking me?
Antra: You were reading Liar's Poker. So I took a guess. Fresh pass out?
Me(amazed): You are good
Antra: Well! I observed your bags and books while your eyes were running all over me.
Me(taken aback, embarrassed): What! No, they were not. Thats..Thats so blunt. Why would you think so?
Antra: Because, I saw so.
Me: It was just a casual glance. I swear. It didn't mean anything. Actually...
( I told her what happened with the two F 21s earlier this morning)
Antra: Oh...ok. That's bad!
Me: I know! I mean I have been mistaken for a geek in the past, but not a ruffian. Come on!! So?
Antra: So?
Me: Now do you believe?
Antra(smiling): Would you let it go. You are making way too big a deal. Its normal for guys to ogle at gals as long as its short and is not followed by any comments.
Me: Hmm.. So gals look at guys too? (stealing a glance from the corner of the eye)
Antra: Well...only the good looking ones. (Smiles mischievously). We usually stalk the other geeks to make fun of them.
Me: I am not a geek. I said I was mistaken for one.
Antra: Why do you get so worked up? Geeks are supposed to be good too.
Me: Yeah. In like academics. I am poor in that too. For God's sake ask my friends.
(Hearty laugh)
Antra: I have to leave. I am feeling sleepy
Me:(please don't) Suddenly discovered you had a blanket!!
Antra: (turns around) Lucky me! My mom doesn't pack mine. I do it myself. (Leaves)
Me(takes a moment for it to strike): How did she know?

Should I? Shouldn't I? Crash it. Its a half-a-day journey tomorrow. I'll run into her.

That was the last I saw of her. The next afternoon after searching the whole train thrice, I came back to my seat. Was it all just a dream? Was I imagining stuff? There was only one way to find out. The TTR was at my seat checking tickets. I quietly took the list when he was chatting with a fellow-mate from his native place and checked all the names for an Antra. No..No...No...No...No...No...No Antra Thats it. How can it all just be a dream? I gloomily sank into the seat while a shrill voice pricked my ear - "Yeh humaara seat hai" OH MY GOD!!! This was too much. I had to give it back. "Ye railways ka seat hai" and I picked up my bags and got down. If only!! If only!!

Epilogue:

Its 8: 30 PM. My sister said my return ticket was confirmed. How come it is not listed. I called her up and verified once again. Yes it was confirmed. She advised me to get into the train and ask the TTR. I did and the TTR gave me the lists and asked me to check. No..No...No...No...No...No...Thats it. No my name. I told the TTR and he said "Son, that's the reserved list you are looking at. For the RAC passengers who got confirmed after the chart has been prepared there is a separate post script with those names. Check there." Thats' it. That's where I didn't check. And that's why she didn't have a berth to sleep that night. She was in the RAC list. Damn! How did I not see that? Its not just a list. Its a confirmation that I had my first female stalker.

Written by,
Batty