The growing darkness of the cloudy meadow was conquering the breathes of the deadly heaven. The groaning clouds having the frequent sparks reminded of the stronger depression warned by the broadcasters yesterday in the news channels. It was only a half way down the college schedule – the recess hours. The canteen, the cafeteria and the stair blocks were fitted by groups either with the bluffs or discussions regarding fishy topics. The library filled with the project managers and few first benchers to discuss the upcoming fests. A mass gathering round the sports ground to cheer both the teams ‘Invincible’ and ‘Insiders’ for another 45 minutes rivalry. Score line 2-1. Basements preparing for International conference and the auditorium sorted with the teachers’ meeting.
In the B2 block, probably on the 3rd floor, just right side of the stairs case up beside the ladies’ washroom, Room no. 3.1, he was sitting down on the bench, having her tiffin, and she besides, looking at each other with wordless expressions, and two smiles accompanying…
He found the page marker peeped up within page 223 and 224. He opened it and continued reading his diary –
‘Well, I found a girl beautiful and sweet.
I never knew you were the one waiting for me’
It was Ed Sheeran she supposed! The date mentioned on the 14th of February. He continued…
It was the Valentine’s’ Day! He was probably stammering with his words sitting beside her. The two probable adulthoods were almost with the words of wordlessness. She knowing his unsaid words and he trying to present those unsaid words. It had already started raining outside and his alibies were mere enough to divert her to the wonderful sight from the 3rd floor down the campus. He sighed. Suddenly, lightening flashed in the east and thunder rumbled a posthumous threat and the frightened moments pushed him to hold her hands at an instance and the piece of paper rolled down his hand near her loafer. He was afraid of thunder bolts from the childhood. She smiled towards his pale face and picked up the piece of paper. It was about 2 in his clock. Perhaps it was the best day, the time to confess or to conceal his feelings for her. But at that very moment, he stood with absolute drawback with her pale face and flopped his hands in his pocket. She opened the paper and found 9 12 21. She laughed. He was looking at her, did not have the idea what to do next, only trying to color his appearance with her expressions.
The heavy downfall had already pinched him with its drops until she pushed him behind from the window. He with his puzzled explanation said “SORRY! I didn’t mean it, I mean, I think I mean to say…. I mean… actually…..”. She couldn’t stop herself from laughing and at once became desperate to thrust her palms on his mouth and whispered: “I love you too”. She left the room. This time, Lightening flashed and thunder rumbled a posthumous threat inside him. Their journey started…
Suddenly he paused. Someone was standing in front of him. He put off his earplugs and looked up. Got stammered. Seat no. 32! It was ‘She’, standing near him! RAC 31! He closed his diary. The page marker fell down from within his diary. ‘She’ was looking all the same, with her blue spectacles, in blue Kurti and white leggings, Only her presence differed. The journey had ended almost five years back. Several missed calls and hung up caller id remained. The unshared moments between ‘online’ and ‘last seen’ each time had a new story from her end. Sometimes, it was her college assignments, sometimes it was her few abstract reasons. Unseen messages, un-replied facebook chats and blocked contact was enough to end their shared moments of being ‘together’ for the last few years. And for the couple of moments, the rest part of the his diary flashed in front of his eyes. He read it each time. Perhaps he could sense his favorite person and the favorites moments with his words. Unanswered questions were dipping down his mind and perhaps on the other side, she was fainted with her unfortunate causes to answer all his questions.
The train blew its whistle and the 12343 Sealdah Darjeeling mail was on its way from Bardhhaman. The journey started. The pinches of rain dropping on the windows gradually hazed their reflection.
Growing darkness of the cloudy meadow was conquering the breathes of the deadly heaven. The groaning clouds having the frequent sparks reminded of the stronger depression warned on the broadcasters yesterday in the news channels….