Navigating my way around the towers of dabbas and large wicker baskets that blocked the entrance, I reached the other entry finding a nearly empty corner. The inside of the train was a living mausoleum of the smells of Mumbai - of unyielding cologne and women's perfume; of liquid excreta: pungent sweat and urine that put me under the illusion I had entered the underbelly of a sewer plant.
He followed close, but as I straightened to grab the rod that parted the entrance in the middle, I understood why that corner had been sparsely populated while the other areas were bustling with a viscous spread of men and women. A homeless man stood holding the rod, his body covered with a repulsive bout of carbuncles.
As he approached me, he noticed the indecision in my eyes. My breath shook and I stared at the destitute, perhaps for the first time clueless, unknowing if I should move giving away my ineptitude to stomach the distressing reality that pervaded the world outside my own. He hadn't challenged me, I was aware it wasn't a test of sorts and yet, I strangely felt compelled to tell him I was indifferent to everything around me.
I took a step back and he came to stand in front of me, shielding my afflicting view of the homeless man.
The train jerked forward. Over my obsessions with cleanliness that were less than inane in London and here, an utter insanity, I had not taken support. I was thrust forward and my hand scrunched below his collar, pulling him to me. A second later, I was stable, but much closer to him, encompassed by his towering form; stolen from the world and cached in his hold.
My back curved sensing his hand on the small of my back, but any small movement would sheathe his body against mine and I refrained from twitching inside his arm.
Looking up to him, I saw his eyes summon a dare to continue with the dispassion I had showed him only seconds ago. And now I was caught in my own web of pretensions, while his smile emblazoned the moment of my surrender.
"You have two options," he said, his words a warm bluster against my face, "you can either leave your hand where it's resting now, or I can let mine remain where it has curled up. Be assured that one of them have to be left where they are at present. Else you are bound to end up in that man's arms like this."
A threat I couldn't back out of, however I was also aware, I was better off anywhere but in the grasps of his tenacity. "I doubt that would be necessary."
I drew out and walked to the other corner of the compartment and needless to say, he came after.
"You don't take well to advise, do you?" he asked, settling beside me, putting himself between me and the opening, as I leaned against the divider by the seating area.
"Not that I see you take kindly to my objections. Your options sounded like a contest, not advise." I looked at him sideways and he still held a smile, like it was permanent fixture over his features; amiable and annoying.
"You forget that I had admiringly borne witness to your objections against Aditya taking up Dhri's instructions," he countered.
"Only because I'm a sister who knows her brother's choices well," being my retort.
"But not your own? Not because your father had presented crowning facts about me."
Ass! Our volley that raced back and forth felt unnecessary, but insightful and hence, I kept on.
"And you dismiss that I had nothing to gain from choosing you over others." Again! I exhaled realizing my slip. "I mean as my brother's instructor," I amended quickly and he didn't seem to have regarded that allusion.
"Well, you certainly did gain my approval," an intended pause and then he added, "may be even your family's approval with that choice."
"Perhaps..." I assented ambiguous in my whisper leaving him to assume if I had approved the former or the latter of his claims. I looked away wondering if he didn't think it was as cryptic as I had intended it to be.
His head slanted to one side to catch my gaze; a brow cocked up. "Well, I will live to see another day," his words taunting and impudent.
"You shouldn't desire to seek existence upon my words." I bit back, unawares of what I had said that instant and only coming to realize it after. "That is a bit edgy, don't you think?"
"Only a thousand desires, each worth dying for..." he said with a measured pace and his words prickled against my skin.
Though I was not the one to indulge in native poetry, you don't lose out on Mirza ghalib. Not when it was the rendering by a hopeless lover ready for eternal endurance towards his pious betrayal.
"Either you are a compulsive flirt or you have a quote book somewhere in there," I shifted in my place and pointed at his bag, "Don't ever be misguided to think its charming," I said ensuring I was mild in my rebuke.
"Be assured, I don't have a book." He winked.
"Are you like this with every women?" My head tipped heavy from the frustration that surfaced in me and I choked against the holds of an uncalled for jealousy.
He turned facing away from me, his eyes unseeing far into the swamps of houses that passed us. "It started with Subha," he said deferring my question. "She was my classmate from school. We practically grew up together, but she is married now and it would make me a lesser man if I continued quoting poetry to her."
His voice revealed no sadness, but the strain of collecting a far away memory cracked his voice a bit. Again, there had been no need to share that sacred pain from a former life, but he had toldme just the same; with that revelation he'd affiliated me with a small portion of his past, deepening the moment.
Despite what he'd proferred, I was far from speaking about mine.
"And here I thought your skills with the bow and arrow was enough to keep any woman in your life." I spoke after a repose making light of our conversation, without meaning any disrespect.
"Apparently not," his attention came back to me and he appeared to welcome my jest. "Not even if I fail to let the women go without so much as a mark," he said hinting at that morning's exchange. "To mark or not mark, being the big question. Perhaps, that is where I'm going wrong."
His innuendo didn't fail on me; the conversation seemed wrong at so many levels and I laughed shaking my head.
"Perhaps, its whats keeping you out of jail. Have you thought about that?" I suggested and raised my gaze to his.
His eyes was light - I had recalled it as a green deception and I began to consider if it wasn't all closed to me, but I changed my mind discerning it was an abyss nonetheless, a chasm that demanded my free fall with abandon.
"The station," he said, just as the brakes began to squeal, "we have to switch trains here, Kushi."
I waited until we got down. "Shyama," I corrected him this time.
330