Without opening my eyes, my hands set about their business looking for the phone as it kept beeping louder and louder. I finally got hold of the phone and looked at the display opening my eyes just enough to notice that it was already 8.45 AM. I had somehow slept through two alarms (again) and this was the final alarm, the backup to the backup. I sat up on the side of my bed for a moment looking at the mobile for any clue as to how I kept missing my alarms. But I knew there was no clue to be found there as I had this life-long struggle with waking up early. So, I roused myself from the temporary stupor and got into the washroom. I squeezed whatever little life was left in the toothpaste tube and got about my business.
I turned off the flame in the stove where I had set a couple of eggs to boil. I got dressed quickly and gobbled the eggs in one bite each. Still chewing on the second one, I stuffed my backpack with the laptop, charger and the file I was supposed to be working on. Locking the door and running down the stairs from my 4th floor room, I looked at the watch which read 9:35. “Oh boy! Late again”, I thought aloud as I made my way towards the bus stop which was just a minute’s distance from my room. The April sun was shining with full fervour and made waiting for the bus a hugely taxing ordeal. I put on my earphones and played the “most played” playlist and it felt like the very first song was teasing me with the lines “His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy” which was exactly what the heat was doing to me. I was on my second year of the 3 years of internship every CA student had to complete and still had almost a year and a half at a minimum left in Chennai but I was physically and emotionally exhausted.
Suddenly an ambulance zipped past the bus stop, sirens wailing which displaced enough hot air to hit me square in the face. That gust of air turned my thoughts to my very first day in Chennai. I had just disembarked on Chennai Central Railway Station from a 44 hours train journey at about 5.30 in the evening and the very first thing that I noticed was not the heat or humidity, not even the hordes of people pushing and shoving each other as some tried to get out while others desperately tried to enter the station. What struck me most was the peculiar inexplicable smell emanating from god knew where. That weird smell was probably the first in a long list of things that made me dislike Chennai almost instantly.
As I was still contemplating my first day in Chennai, a huge bus came to a halt just in front of me which actually had the body of two buses adjoined like an ugly metallic version of the Siamese twins. It was probably my lucky day I thought as I got on the bus and gleefully took an empty seat near the exit. I was still listening to music looking out the window aimlessly when I suddenly felt like there someone’s gaze was on me. A row back to the right side of the bus sat a young girl who, like me, had earphones in her ear and was looking at my direction. She was probably just looking past me, outside the exit door I surmised and, without giving her much thought, started to turn away when through the peripheral vision I thought I saw her smile at me. I quickly turned to face her and my suspicion turned out to be true. She was indeed flashing a warm smile towards my general direction. That came as quite a shock and I looked around me to see if she was actually looking at someone else as I didn’t want to be embarrassed by returning her smile only to find it was meant for someone else. Finally, I felt confident enough that the smile was indeed meant for me. I took in a few breaths, calmed my nerves and turned around, my eyes frantically looking for her but the bus had just stopped and she wasn’t there. Instead, there was an older woman sitting there who gave me an apprehensive look as our eyes suddenly met. I quickly turned around and thought that girl must have gotten down at that stop. At the next stop I got down, still thinking about her. It was almost 10 and I was determined not to be late. So, as was customary after getting down from a public bus, I checked to see if my wallet and mobile were still in my pockets. I was just about to start walking when a soft tap on my shoulder startled me. I turned around to find her standing right in front of me and gave her an awkward confused smile.
Apparently, she had left the seat for the old lady and was standing near the door, blocked from my view by another passenger.
“Hi! You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked smiling. Tried as hard as I may, I just couldn’t recall that face nor that voice. I smiled sheepishly shaking my head, still trying, trying as hard as I could to remember that pretty face. “I’m Salina” she said waiting for a response from me. “We met at the interview room in that Auditor’s office near Chepauk Stadium a couple of years ago. How come you don’t remember a fellow Nepalese, that too a girl, in this far away land?” she grinned. “God! I’m such an idiot!” I exclaimed suddenly the memories of that day came gushing in and making me wonder how on earth I had forgotten her in the first place. We proceeded to make some small talk. “How come I’ve not seen you in this route before?” I asked. Apparently, she was on her way to a client’s place for audit and this was her very first day on this bus route. “Lucky me”, I thought to myself. She glanced at her watch as we both realised we had to get to work. Just as I was building up my courage to ask her for her cell number, someone called out her name and she ran towards the voice saying, “Bye, see ya!”.It suddenly dawned on me that I did not even know her full name. My heart sank and I stood there worried if that was it; worried that I would never see her again.
My frown slowly turned upside down as I saw her scampering back. “How would we ever keep in touch without even exchanging numbers, silly?” she scolds me playfully. I had never in my life known that kind of happiness that too even after being called ‘silly’. I scratched my head, flashed a warm smile, took out my cell and finally asked her, “So, what’s your number?”. “Nine...Double Five....”she had just started to speak when we were rudely interrupted by a loudspeaker blaring a hit Tamil song which went ‘excuse me, Mr. Kandhasamy oru coffee kudipon ..come with me...’in which the actress was actually asking the guy out on coffee. Having come to understand a fair bit of Tamil during the 3 mostly miserable years there, I drew a quick parallel with our situation, looked at her and smiled. She must have understood as much because she too blushed, tucked the strand of hair which had fallen in her face neatly above her ear and smiled.
This was definitely something I would never forget.
