I met “her” that fateful night…

That night I was on my own

riding the train

to Bhopal, maybe Mhow,

Does it matter? The name?

I sat hunched, like I usually do

on the top berth reading a book

Pretending I didn’t mind being alone

Ignoring the “loud” families below

Wrapping myself in my  shield

But she

She saw right through my facade

She smiled a bit and asked

“Here would you like some food?”

Her friendliness couldn’t be barred by a book

Her open smile, her gentle voice

I had no choice, but to be nice!

“Not really, I am not hungry” I said

“It’s not poisoned” she laughed!

I went red like I was a two-year old

Caught with my hand in the cookie bowl

I accepted the sandwich

and we began to chatter

Talking to her was easy

That we’d just met,  didn’t matter

Name, home, work, education,

We walked the through routine

but soon we were talking of hopes and dreams

All night we sat

talking,

Just like that

My book forgotten,

our berths unslept

I discovered

she was a dreamer, just like me

An idealist, a thinker, a “spirit” free

She spoke softly, spinning words of gold

everything she uttered was poetry

I was completely bowled!

When she asked me my story

I simply told

Everything I could think of

Since I was two-year old

If she spoke well,she listened even better

Her head cocked to a side,

her gaze filled with compassion

Understanding things said and left unsaid

Even though I maintained a stony face

My inner angst was reflected  in her eyes

When I surreptitiously attempted to brush aside

Two tears threatening to roll down my eyes,

She began to cry, long open tears she shed

Was it possible for her to feel?

So much for a stranger like me

When the morning sun shone

I felt like

In this world I wasn’t alone

I had found on this soulful night

A person who spoke my language, and heard me right

At the station when she turned to leave

She shook my hand, giving it a squeeze

I tentatively squeezed it back

the train seemed so empty after that

There was nothing to do, nobody to chat

Even the book that I had really longed to read

Now so boring it seemed

By the time my station came

I could hardly wait, to google her name

And make her my Facebook friend

When I finally keyed in her name

It spat out a string of suggests

But I was only seeking her face

Found her at the end of the second page

I clicked to see her wall

She was all she said

except for  a minor detail

There on her profile for all to see

Were a husband she hugged and two lovely kids

Her eyes shone just like they had, on me

Her friends list was really long

And from the comments on her wall

It was evident she was a good “friend ” to all

For a minute I didn’t know what to feel

Had she or  hadn’t she cheated me?

I hadn’t asked about her family life

I had been so busy narrating my story

At no point had she lead me on

Just spoke to me in that gentle tone

After that first hit of surprise

I understood, I realized

It didn’t matter if she was married or free

She could still be a good friend to me

And so with a big smile

I sent her a “friend” invite

And now we  keep in touch on mail

she listens to my long dreary tales

My silly worries and unending angst

She gives me advice and “saner” plans

Now whenever I travel by train

I chat, talk and attempt to connect

with someone, sitting close to me

for I learned this on that fateful night

one never knows,Where & When

New friends walk in

and change your life

The Write Over the Weekend theme for this week was
You meet a random person and start talking… What happens next?
As you know I am at the lit festival, I have resorted to some cheating this week. I am publishing something I had written long back! Well its not so long back really, but that’s how it feels.

 

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

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5 Comments Add yours

  1. vasudha says:

    Lovely poem full of soulful insights !

  2. Very interesting subject, thanks for putting up.

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