That Night

                   It was raining cats and dogs when he came out of the flat to go to the railway station, a few kilo metres from his residence. It was difficult to see beyond a few metres. In the back ground of the light from the lamp post he could make out the rain was falling in curves, bending with the wind as it grew stronger or straightening when it relented a little.  The rain getting in to his eyes did not make it any easier to see. There was one rickshaw, with its owner curled-up in it, parked near the lamp post. He hailed the rickshaw puller whom he persuaded to take him to the station by promising to pay many times the normal fare. The rickshaw moved slowly, its progress retarded due to the heavy rain and strong wind.

                   It took him almost an hour and half to reach the station, completely drenched and a bit cold. The station, in spite of the inclement weather was crowded and he had had to jostle along to reach the ticket window. He asked for a ticket to Delhi by the train leaving, shortly, via Kanpur and Aligarh, for old Delhi station. He purchased the ticket and then there was another round of pushing and shoving to get away from the window. He took the over bridge to go to the platform number three where his train was parked. He leisurely looked for, found and entered in to the compartment. He found a seat for himself and shoved his bag under the it. He took out his handkerchief to wipe an enormous amount of water which he carried on his person. He managed it as best he could with his small handkerchief. He saw another person in black outfit in the compartment. He nodded to him and remarked, “What an awful evening?” To this the other person mumbled something, maybe, in agreement but hardly audible.

             He was hungry. He opened a window to find out if he could get something to eat and was greeted by a spray of water. He closed the window hurriedly. He ambled up to the door and opened it a little so that he may not receive another shower. He peeped through the partly open door and saw a vendor. The vendor wet and struggling to cover soggy samosas with polythene sheet though his samovar was in the open and the fire underneath it had been reduced to smoke. He asked for tea and samosas and was served some lukewarm muddy tea and wet samosas. He carried them to his seat and offered to share the dinner with the person in the black who refused the offer. He, then, sat down to devour his sordid dinner.

                  The train was already late and there was no sign of it leaving the station. The sundry travellers were sauntering in to the compartment, unhurried, before setting down. Another half hour passed before the train whistled. Though the train did not move it appeared to induce the passengers into activity. There was a rush into the compartment. Hitherto, indolent passengers moved into the compartment quickly pushing others, aside. There were lone travellers as well as families, young men and women who all made a bee line to the few coveted benches which were soon filled. The compartment was now occupied by more number of people than it was fashioned for. Though, passengers squeezed themselves into the compartment, many would have to travel standing. 

             And then, without any notice, the train lurched forward and stopped. It carried out the manoeuvre a few times before it put on some speed. In the mean while the passengers were settling down, some on the benches, others on the floor and a few were standing. Those who had managed to get some space to sit were pushing their neighbour to yield some more space which effort was being thwarted by the other person.

                   Our friend who had braved the storm to catch the train to Delhi was now well settled for the long and obviously uncomfortable journey ahead. There was no way to stretch oneself in the crowed train; indeed there was no space to change one’s position and sleep was impossible in the bustle.

                   He found himself seated next to the man in the black whom he had seen when he had entered the compartment and, therefore, had known him the longest among all the others passengers. A good reason, he believed, to start a conversation with him and reduce the tedium of the journey.

“Where are you going?”

He received no answer. “Ah! This train is going to Delhi; so you could not be going anywhere else. That was silly of me”. He guffawed without mirth, to hide his embarrassment. The two neighbours did not address each other for some time. It was becoming oppressively intolerable for him to travel, in the distressing condition, without the benefit of companionship. He made another attempt at conversation.

“Where do you live in Delhi?”

This time the attempt did not go in vain

“I do not live in Delhi.”

The reply encouraged him to continue.

“Then where do you live.”

                   It was evident that the other was not particularly enjoying the conversation or in a mood to socialise.

“Oh! Never mind; No where you would know.”

“How can you say that, I am quite well travelled?”

“But not where I live.” And perhaps to deflect the course of conversation asked, “Where do you live, in Delhi or in Lucknow?”

“I live in Lucknow, River Bank Colony, in the D block. Mine is the first house in the block, in front of the house of the famous doctor, Dr. Sharma. Do you know him?” He enthusiastically volunteered a lot more information than was needed. He wished to keep the conversation going.

“No I do not know him. I do not go to doctors.”

“Well it is nice that you enjoy good health. But tell me of a man who has never been sick, some or the other time. We all fall sick and need to consult a physician. Even if you do not need to visit a doctor, someone else, in the family, may need a doctor’s services. What I say is that it is best to keep one prepared for any crisis. Keep note of the clinic and the residential addresses of good doctors in town and keep their phone numbers handy. Yes sir! This is what I do.”

                   The other man was obviously was not interested in the wise counsel but did not join issue. He merely remarked, “No, I don’t,” and looked the other way to indicate that the exchange was over.

                   He shrugged his shoulder in a way to indicate, to anyone who might have been observing the twosome, that he bore no responsibility for early demise of the discussion. It had happened in spite of his best his best effort and keen desire to prolong it. He looked out of the glass window. He could not, though the fury of the storm had abated, somewhat. The train was not moving at its normal pace. The visibility had not improved enough for the driver of the train to raise the speed to normal. He closed his eyes so as to snatch some sleep. He must have dozed for he was roused up from his slumber by fearsome noises and cries of the passengers. There was pandemonium in the compartment which was lurched at an obtuse angle. Passengers were screaming, some were obviously hurt, some more than the others. The luggage was all over. People were trying to get out of the compartment, all at once and in the course not letting anyone out. The train had met with an accident while he had dozed.

The man, in the black, assumed command of the situation. Without a word, he pushed away those obstructing the passage with considerable force. He motioned the ones at the door to go out and clear the way for the others and to receive the wounded, the old, the children and the women. After the wounded, the old, the children and the women has been evacuated, with a wave of his hand, he motioned the men to go out, one at a time. He was the last to come out.

                   Some villagers had arrived at the scene when they saw the accident. They were now being supervised by the man in the black in attending to the injured. Some had brought food which was given to the passengers of the ill fated train. A little later some order had been established. The injured were carried and those who could walk were encouraged to do so and taken to the comparative safety of the nearby village. The man in the black supervised it all. When all the passengers had been taken care of, our friend from Lucknow and the man in the black remained behind, to look after the baggage of the passengers. they were the only individuals who had escaped unscathed. They sat down awaiting arrival of the police and the railway rescuers to hand over the charge of the site to them.

Anticipating long dreary wait, our man from Lucknow made another attempt at banter.

“When I told you that it was an awful evening, I could not have contemplated that it would be so horrid.”

There was no response.

“It is so dark and not a soul in sight, on top of it, the trauma of the accident; I am scared.” There was yet no response.

“It is scary and stultifying. Come on man! Speak up. Say something to lessen the melancholy.”

This desperate appeal too did not elicit any reaction.

“This scenario is just apt for the stories of ghosts.”

The man in the black stared hard at the speaker but still did not utter a word.

“Do you believe in Ghosts?” asked the man from Lucknow and laughed without conviction.

The man in the black dissolved in the dark.