The Sleeping Technique

 

I have a lot of experience of running behind trains. I don't know how, but every time some urgency occurs ranging from moderate to high just before my trip. I believe that I'm a little less organized compared to the individuals my age. But this trip is different. On this trip, I was not willing to come. 

My son is six months old and has started reacting to all the little mischiefs I do when I'm with him. With a heavier heart, welled-up eyes, and slow steps I entered the railway station. The train was motionlessly gazing at me from the opposite platform. I was aware of the relationship between the night trains and me. I climbed the stairs as quick as I could. But the train started moving slowly as it was trying to tease me. 

Luckily, the bogie that I had to board was just crossing the staircase, and in no time I boarded it. The train forgave me this time.

The bogie was almost vacant. Some odd seats were occupied with motionless humans, covering their bodies with uniform blankets. I was looking for my side lower seat. There was no one in the whole compound except this lady who was sitting facing towards the other side. I kept my luggage under the berth and lay down. 

When all the animated stuff came to a halt and I closed my eyes to catch my sleep, I felt my heart heavy again. I was thinking what my son must be doing. I was missing the fragrance of his body, the curls of his hair. I was missing his small hands and his toothless smile. I miss putting him to bed, and watching his facial expressions when he gets into deep slumber. 

When it comes to putting him to sleep, I'm an expert. My strategy is darn too simple. I put him near my torso, cradle him at a uniform pace, and repeat the name of Lord Rama in more of a hissing voice.

Ram...

Ram...

Ram...

And in no time he enters into his dreamland, making faces of all kinds. 

I opened my eyes to set an alarm on my cellular phone. I even have a record of missing my destined stations too. As soon as I closed my eyes again, I heard a familiar voice. I thought for a while that I was hallucinating or something. I heard my son crying as he usually does when he wants to sleep but can't. When the voice became more clear and loud, I got up to see what was happening. I switched on the lights of the cabin. The lady who was lying on the other side was carrying her toddler on her lap and shaking it rigorously.

She apologized for that as she thought she must have disturbed my sleep. I just smiled and lay down again. Her baby was roaring like a hungry cub. I covered my head with the blanket and switched off the lights in case she wanted to feed the baby. 

The baby was crying at the top of his voice. I felt something fishy by then. I switched on the lights again and asked her whether she had checked the baby's temperature or not. She put her finger on the baby's neck to manually check the temperature. I was not aware of any such technique for measuring temperature, but she acknowledged that her baby was doing fine.

I asked her if  I could help. She was hesitant at first. She was really not expecting that. But looking at her baby's condition, she handed me her toddler. 

I stood up and roamed around a bit here and there. The baby was still crying, clenching my kurta in his little fists I started caressing the back of his head softly. That was the first time when he looked at me. Our eyes met for the first time. I smiled at him. He stopped crying for a few seconds, observing an unfamiliar face. He started crying again but at a much slower pace, as if he was complaining about something to me.

I sat on my berth and put his face to my abdomen, just below my heart. He stopped crying again. He was again observing my face. He lifted his left hand and started playing with my beard. I started cradling him when I noticed his eyes getting heavier. 

And finally, I started humming the name of Lord Rama.

Ram...

Ram...

Ram...

I told his mother to make her bed. I lay him down carefully and switched off the lights.

Her Mother started patting his back to make him feel safe and protected.

'Thank you' I heard her voice before I came back to my seat.

I was glad that my magic formula worked.  

The next morning I woke up before the alarm rang. I saw the baby giggling in her Mother's arms. She playfully told him to wish me good morning, to which he giggled some more. 

I went to freshen up. My station was about to arrive. 

When I came back from the restroom, her son was crying again. He was looking worn out with all that playing and giggling. I sat on my seat quietly and started putting my stuff in my backpack.

When I turned around again I saw the lady cradling him on her lap.

Ram...

Ram...

Ram...

 

Voila! 

He went into deep slumber even quicker than the night before. He was sleeping calmly when the train lowered its pace. I got up looking at the baby. He looked very similar to my own son. I kept looking at him till the train halted.

'What's his name?' I asked her.

'Irfan... Muhammad Irfan'. She smiled as she replied.

Anamika...

 I used to love train journeys. Be it a short or a long-distance journey, I always prefer trains over airways, provided I have no urgency. Never I have thought that I'll be able to travel the length and breadth of the nation so frequently. I worked as a relationship manager of one of the leading construction companies in the capital city of India. The company was young, so its employees. We had a team of highly energetic people who always prioritize their work over anything else in the world. 

But I was a bit different. 

I loved my job not because of the team or the company, but because of my profile. I had the freedom to approach clients on behalf of my organization and fetch the deals. It involved lots and lots of traveling. So every fortnight, I had to travel to different cities of the various states of the country.

Did I tell you that I love train journeys?

Until that day...

It was mid of march and I was traveling from Delhi to Amritsar. It was an evening train I caught from Hazrat Nizamuddin Railway station. I didn't get a reservation. So I had a word with the Ticket checker who allotted me a seat in the second AC coach. 

The coach was almost vacant until Panipat. There, around six or seven people boarded the train. I was reading the recently purchased copy of The Alchemist when she entered my compartment.

'Berth number 3' she pointed towards the seat I was sitting on. 

I quickly stood up and sat on the seat opposite her. I was happy that I got beautiful company for the rest of the journey. I smiled at her but her stoned face was unturned and unreceptive. And with all the things I have learned in my life, the best one is Minding my own business.

We spend an hour or so in utmost silence when this gentleman came to ask whether we'll have vegetarian food or non-vegetarian. We both opted for Vegetarian and after twenty minutes, we both received shiny containers of Rice and gravy, served in an age-old red tray. 

She sat numb for some time. I don't know why but that silence between us was disturbing me. I didn't feel like opening the packaged food and start eating alone.

'Shall we start?' I asked her out of courtesy.

It looked like she came out of some distant thinking. She didn't reply but started opening her container in a hurry. I didn't mind that, at least I could have my dinner in peace.

She was gulping her food very quickly, without chewing. I was finding all that quite awkward. Her face was tensed and sweaty, provided March's nights are not that hot. She was wearing an embroidered black suit with a white dupatta and looked like someone who comes from a very decent background. 

Suddenly something got stuck down her throat and she started coughing. I quickly gave her my water bottle and she quickly gulped some water. It gave her some relief. She gave my bottle back, without saying thank you, of course. She kept her leftover aside and went to the washroom. 

After a couple of minutes, she came back and sat cross-legged on her seat. She was looking directly into my eyes without any particular emotion. That was scary and disturbing. I was wondering to change my seat, but again, I find it a bit rude. 

I tried again to start a conversation.

'So where are you heading to, Ma'am?'

After a disturbing silence, she said 

'I have no idea where I'm heading to'.

End of conversation. There was nothing left to say anymore. 

As time passed, I was feeling a little sleepy. So I stretched my legs on my seat and I don't know when I went into a deep slumber. I opened my eyes once or twice in between. I saw her writing something on a ruled notebook. But whenever I used to look at her, she used to stop writing and looked at me again with that stone face. Every time I chose to close my eyes again. After an hour or so, I woke up and saw her still writing. I wore my shoes, took my Jacket and went to Washroom. I had this urge to smoke after dinner. Though It is not allowed to lit a cigarette on the train, I went near the washbasin, open the coach's door, and lit the cigarette. I was completely lost in my world when someone tapped lightly on my shoulder. My cabin mate was standing there.

'do you mind if I take a puff?'

I took out another cigarette but she quickly snatched the lit cigarette from my hand, closed her eyes, and started taking slow puffs.

'I was in college when I smoked last.' she more or less talked to herself.

I stood silently, looking at her face.

'What's your name?' I asked.

'I have no name.' she said.

After an awkward silence, she said 'Anamika, the one who has no name.'

'Avinash' I said 'The one who can't be destroyed.'

'So you are the unfortunate one.' she smiled the first time since I saw her. 'You have to destroy yourself to end all the pain, all the troubles, all the miseries'

I smiled, looking at her moist eyes. I could sense pain. 

'What's your story?' I asked.

'Oh it's a tragic one.' she smiled again

'I'm not sleepy at all' I looked directly at her.

'Umm it has a very happy beginning, a disturbing middle, but a beautiful end.' she said.

I folded my arms and started listening to her story.

'I met him in my college and I knew that he is the one. We started dating and got married after a couple of years.' she said looking into the void outside the coach's gate.

'First few months were good but he tortured me mentally after that. He blackmailed me and told me to bring Money from my Dad or he'll do all that which can't be expressed in words. Neither I can tell you, nor you can listen to that. My Father, who was already a Cancer patient, died a month back as he couldn't afford good treatment. He was handing most of his pension money to my husband. That's my friend is the disturbing middle of the story.' she smiled. I could see a cold sweat rolling down her face.

I wanted to comfort her. I want her to vomit out whatever was disturbing her. I was making sure not to sympathize with her, not to judge her, but listen to her. That's what, according to me, is the best way to comfort anyone.

After a long silence, she came towards the washbasin and started washing her face. I came a little backward, balancing myself so that I don't fall on her. 

She asked for another cigarette. I gave her the second last cigarette I had. She kept her between her lips. I lit the cigarette for her.

'And what's the beautiful end to the story? ' I asked her, hoping to see some light at the end of the tunnel. 

She smiled and gave me a piece of paper she was holding in her left hand.

'You'll see it yourself Avinash, the beautiful ending to my story.' she said.

I unfolded the paper and saw a line neatly written on it.

I gave full blame for my death to my husband Aakash, who tortured me, physically, mentally, and emotionally. 

-Anamika

I wasn't expecting that. When I looked at her, she was standing near the gate. I ran a step forward and tried to hold her arm. But she took a step backward, looking directly into my eyes. Her eyes were moist again. 

And that face still haunts me. 

Everything happened in a fraction of a second. But for me, it became a lifelong haunting.

I shouted at the highest pitch of my voice. I sat near the washbasin, keeping hands on my ears, and cried like a little kid.

That might be the beautiful end of her story but a tragic end to the happiness of my life.

I hate train journeys, did I tell you that before?

HRN