Just before Diwali, I did one last struggle on IRCTC to get a tatkal ticket of a train leaving Friday and failed. Surprisingly, tickets on Mysore-Pune bus were still available for a bus leaving Thursday 4 PM. Long live KSRTC! I called my best friend who lived in Pune and who was going to Amravati day after. She confirmed we can travel together and there was my plan to go home, with all confirmed reservations, just a few hours before departure. I finished my work hurriedly, ran home to pack bags and reached the bus stop a few minutes before four.
Seat number 21, double check, “it is seat number 21!” There were many seats available when I booked and I could have chosen any, but I chose 21 and there, the first time during many journeys, was a girl in the seat next to mine. She looked about my age, maybe a little younger, glasses; she wore jeans and a round neck t-shirt, possibly having Marilyn Monroe print, I could never see properly to be sure. Looking at a girl’s t-shirt from close distance isn’t just possible. I mean no gentleman would do that - conspicuously! I was delighted with the possibility of an eventful journey and a great start of holidays. But, seconds after I took my seat, she called the conductor to ask for a seat change. I was disappointed and was slightly offended. I had been a complete gentleman. I was totally busy reading Sophie’s world – a book on philosophy. I never looked at her… Alright, I looked at her, but only through peripheral vision and I left shared armrest for her to use. Yet she asked for a seat change. It’s like she looked at me and asked for a change. Couldn’t she have done that before if she was concerned? However, no adjustment could be made. I continued reading my book. I was trying not to look out of the window, thinking she might think I’m looking at her.
Sudeep’s Kempe Gowda, Kannada version of Singham, started playing on bus video. A man sitting behind us asked me to ask her to recline the seat as his view was obstructed. “Where are you going?” she asked after a few seconds. “Pune, you?” I asked.
“Me too. Actually, I have to get down at Pune and travel again for about 50 kilometres to reach my home.”
“Oh! I am from Amravati, I’m also travelling, tomorrow, today I’ll be with my friend.”
“How long does it take from Pune?”
“About 12 hours.”
“That’s far!”
“Yeah. What you do in Mysore?”
“I’m doing my PhD from CFTRI. What you do?”
“Oh wow! Food technology. I’m in L&T. Senior engineer.” At that point, I had an urge to tell I’m also doing MS along with the job (which I was). How much futile it might be compared to a PhD, but I just couldn’t be ‘just a grad’ while she is research scholar.
“Great! Working and doing MS. It’s nice. Must be tough.”, she said.
“Umm, yes, during exams and assignments it’s. Otherwise, it’s ok.”
“Are you doing PhD after B.Tech?”
“Yes”
I laughed at a joke in the movie. “Do you understand Kannada?” she asked.
“Just a little. I’m here from four years, so not as good as I should. Even three-year-old kids learn to talk fluently.”
She said, “I’m here from a year and I don’t understand it at all”.
“That’s ok. It needs practice and a lot of people talking around. In my team, many people talk Kannada. Actually, sometimes during technical discussions, when two or more Kannada speaking people are there, people get carried away and start talking in Kannada. I’ll just listen to the whole thing patiently and then say, please repeat that. I have no idea what you have been talking about from last zillion minutes.”
She chuckled.
Then we started talking about a lot of things. My work, office hours, her research, future plans, hobbies, books, movies, schooling and friends, which are the good restaurants and where we live in Mysore and how we commute and what not. In a very short time, we were talking like friends. It was effortless and felt unpretentious. When I told I have an FZ she said, “Oh good. I like Bullet. That bike really looks nice. Guys who ride them should have a great physique. It looks great, manly.” I suddenly became conscious of my physique. I hoped what she said was just an opinion she is not indirectly telling ‘I don’t find you attractive.’ I still showed agreement with what she was saying. It was the truth. I’m just not built for a Royal Enfield. The bus stopped for refreshments. I was still engrossed in my thoughts; she wasn’t particularly great looking either. She had her flaws and then as well I kind of liked her because of academics, independence, the fact that she paid conscious thought into what she ate and easy going nature. I hoped she looked past my extra small torso, thin hands and crowded teeth. By the time I got my order, I recovered from the thoughts and laughed at myself for wanting approval of a stranger. Guess that’s about the need of appreciation. She was sitting alone with her coffee. The thing about travelling, when you start journey alone, you are alone even though every seat in the bus is taken. You experience solitude even though you are literally rubbing shoulder with the person sitting next to you. But not that day, that day, I had her. I asked her if I can join her. Then I asked her the question that bothered me for a long time.
“How do you measure how many calories, protein, carbs, sugar, fats and other ingredients are there in a food? Like this banana shake.”
“There are lab tests”, she said.
“What kind of tests? Do you use Mass Spectrometer?”
“No. Mass spec is not required for this. Just simple chemical based tests.”
When we resumed the journey, we continued talking with even more details. She told me her elder sister just got married a few months ago.
“Good. So now your turn”, I said.
“No. At least not for next three years. My parents won’t force me.”
“That’s really good. You have a boyfriend?”
“No. I mean it is ok for my parents if I have a love marriage. I just didn’t like anyone yet. What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No. I had. We broke up, so no one now. Mum has started asking about marriage and if she can find some girls for me but I’m not ready for arranged marriage yet.”
“Why not?”
“Umm, I believe one should only marry for love. I don’t like the concept of arranged marriage. I mean how can one make probably the biggest decision in life, based on one meeting?”
“Right. At least one should meet or talk over a long period of time like a month before getting engaged”, she said.
“Exactly! You believe that right! I asked many people what they feel is important when going for arranged marriage. And I gave them options. Almost everyone said compatibility between the guy and the girl. Those who said compatibility cannot be judged or should not be a criterion said so because they felt there isn’t enough time to know about compatibility.”
“Yes, people don’t allow boy and girl to meet or even talk over the phone before engagement.”
“Right and you know what was even delightful? No one said caste, religion and horoscope are important. I was pleasantly surprised. If every one of young people thinks this way, why our elders decide compatibility by horoscopes and not allow the would-be bride and the groom to talk to each other? People according to their convenience think whatever our forefathers have said and done is right and must be followed and they don’t consider younger generation to be virtuous, even sometimes they don’t even consider their opinion in matters of their own life when the fact is older generation is not always right, if we were to believe they are always right, we would believe earth is at centre of the universe and it rains because of some god and plague is wrath of gods and…”
“You really are reading philosophy!”, she interrupted. We laughed and continued talking, making jokes, telling stories and experiences from our lives. She gave me her FB id and added her as a friend right then.
The bus stopped at dinner around 11:30. We sat together and I asked her to order. I paid the bill, 200 rupees including tip. I didn’t even let her see the bill. She asked me how much was it and opened her clutch to take out money. I said there is no need. She insisted and took out 500 rupees note.
“The bill was just 180. And I can’t take it.” I was standing with my hands in my pockets.
“I have my own money. I get a stipend. I can pay for myself.”
“I know that. But I just can’t take it. If you really want to return it, call me when we are in Mysore and take me out somewhere.”
She gave me a look which I am not sure was blush or exasperation or mix of both.
We wished each other good night soon after dinner and slept. When I woke up in the middle of the night she was facing me. Her face lit in the gentle light of night lamp. A quarter of the moon chasing us from silhouettes of trees. A wisp of her hair was wandering over her eyes and face. I imagined my hand reaching for it and tucking it behind her ear. Of course, I didn’t do it. She was looking beautiful. Her face was relaxed and looked like a child’s face, innocent and happy. I just kept looking at her until I fall asleep.
She was still sleeping when I woke up in the morning. You know one should always have the first date on the long bus journey. If the way other person looks after you see them in the morning doesn’t affect the attraction you have, be assured what you felt last night wasn’t just physical and there is a deeper connection. She woke up shortly after. Less than a couple of hours were left to reach Pune. We didn’t talk much in the morning. Partially because it was difficult to keep up the momentum of things we discussed previous night. One doesn’t just want to ruin it. It’s better to conserve the potential. And partly because of fear of bad breath! Again, one doesn’t just want to ruin it. When we reached Pune and got down the bus, she said, “Ok then, bye. See you in Mysore.”
“Yes, of course,” I replied.
“I didn’t even give you my number.”
“That’s ok. I have you on FB. You can message later.”
“Okay then, bye.”
“Bye” and we waved.
Note: It’s true that I met such a girl while going to Pune. It’s also true that we talked a lot. However, this isn’t transcript of our discussion. It’s a story, a dramatised and romanticised version of real events.
