Deepak lived his life in short, organised, pre-defined tasks. He woke up each morning to the same routine. 32 strokes with the tooth brush, one minuet and fifty nine seconds. His shoes just a step away from his bed. his bath an exact seven and a half minuets. His hairbrush moved 4 times to the left and then 4 times to the right. Deepak was a particular sort of man.
Deepak reached Goregaon train station everyday at 9min past nine on the dot. He bought his news paper found a bench and crossed his legs. For the last five years Deepak and his constant companions on the slow train to church gate had developed an unsaid comradry. unsaid because Deepak didnt think it task worthy to actually make conversation. Deepak was a man of few words numbers dont talk you see.
As is to be expected then from a character like this in a story like this a morning would come that would shake Deepak's world. This morning came on the 12th of May 2005.
Deepak sat down. He always sat coming and going. Before he sat though he would take out his hankerchief and pat the seat. Deepak wasnt eccentric he was just clean. This morning though change would come sealed in a little white envelope under his seat, return sender marked to a Mumbaii address. As is to be expected of characters like this in stories like this Deepak did something entirely out of character. Deepak read the letter. he forgot to finish the sports pages he read the letter.
"If you think you can just walk away without ever knowing what you left behind you are wrong. You have to know what you have left me with. Now that you have left i will not let you go. I will hurt myself to hurt you. I will make guilt claw you until you cant go on. This trail of blood that will follow you where ever you may go. I will not be your ornament to love and lose I have bought the tickets on this journey with my tears and i will not waste them so buckle up baby this is going to be a ride"
that smudge in the corner was that a tear that fell while she was writing the letter? She? Who wrote this letter? Deepak looked around at the bored calm faces around him and wondered whos heart was beating with such hate. Who wrote that letter?
Deepak's world changed with that letter. He got off the train but didnt go to work. He found himself walking down a dirt path, walking to the home of the unknown return sender. it was a narrow narrow street in an unfamiliar part of town. There was a smell in the air. the squelch squelch of each step made Deepak uncomfortable. He reached an apartment block. a series of little boxs falling off their hinges indicated the names of the residents of the building. So it was a she, Sonali. She was called Sonali. Deepak took out the letter and wrote on the envelope. " I'm sorry i opened this letter I found it on the train this morning".
The next morning started with only 29 strokes of the tooth brush and only three of the hairbrush. Deepak was at the station earlier today and he wasnt sitting. He bought the newspaper but he wasnt reading. Deepak looked around at the faces around him. Who was Sonali?
And then he saw her standing by the train. He had seen her before. She was new only a month old on the train. He remembered noticing her before he like the red sari that she wore . Her hair was dishevelled and she wore an exhausted, blank look on her face.
She saw a little man in a pink shirt looking at her. She was so sick of these looks. She glared back at him.
And then he was standing by her " I'm sorry i didnt mean to". That was the first time that any one had actually apologised to her " It's ok" she said. Deepak felt a little more confidant "how did you know it was me" he asked her hesitantly. " I saw you looking at me".
Deepak wanted to ask her so many questions but there was the train and push shove they were both on the train. Deepak wasnt sitting he was standing and so was she. So they talked and as with stories like this and characters like Deepak they were soon spending a lot of time standing together on the train.
He took her to a lot of lunches but never dinner. He never met her after the 5:30 train back. Deepak felt blessed he felt blessed that he had found some one so special so much by chance. he felt like they were meant to be together considering that there was never even a need to introduce themselves to each other, they already knew. Deepak thanked god for that letter. He loved Sonali.
He finally decided one day to surprise her. He went back to that dirty alley. The squelch was no longer discomforting he was walking to his sonali.
He walked about that dingy staircase and down a dingier corridor. He walked to room number 4B and rung the bell. A woman in a grotesque red lehnga choli opened the door. Deepak was taken aback, she had said she lived alone. He asked the betal nut chewing woman if Sonali was home. A gruff voice eminated from the interiors of a monstrous bosam. "Sonali is not in here you wanto try new girl?".
Suddenly it was all clear to him why she didnt let him see her at night. So this is what she was a prostitute. Nausea made Deepak run.
Deepak ran out the dingy corridor down the dingy staircase and onto the sqeulchy dirty street. Sonali was Dead to him. Deepak was at the station all night. The night transforming everything into a dingy seediness.
Deepak didnt have the strength to move. Her saw her the next morning walk into the station walk to the point where they both met and wait for him. He wanted to ask her why but he didnt he turned back and never took that slow train to churchgate again.
Shazia took that train every day and everyday she waited for him at the same spot where they met but he never came back. Shazia soon moved out of the hostel in Goregaon where no visitors were allowed after 6:30 and moved to a nice new house in Andheri. She often wondered about the little man in a pink shirt who called her Soni and never told her his real name.
