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Glimpses Stolen

Glimpses Stolen.
                    Dinesh K Kapila
I saw him as he entered the coach. Tall, well built, close cropped hair. Wearing a blue shirt tucked into well fitting trousers. After placing his medium size tan coloured  suitcase and bag on the luggage rack, he happily helped two couples and a lady place their luggage also on the rack. To their profuse thanks, he just nodded shyly. Then he looked outside the window as though looking for someone. I was seated atleast six to eight rows away, on the side opposite to where he sat. I just followed his glance.  A middle aged lady stood on the platform, leaning against a pole.  She looked alone and tired, saw him and started waving to him. He waved to her, as if to say, I am OK, then nodded quietly to her to go. She just stood there, all alone, touched her eyes for a moment with her duppatta, and beckoned him to come out.
The young man looked at his watch, saw there was still a minute or so to go and quickly moved out. He went to her and embraced her, then swiftly touched her feet and placed her hand on his head, evidently seeking her blessings. Then again embracing her, he said something to her and moved towards the train, the lady still with her hands towards him, as if unwilling to let him go.  I just watched quietly, lost in the mother son moment. The world was moving around them, passengers hurrying to their coaches, youngsters chatting away on phones, pot bellied middle aged men barking business orders on phones and here were two lives playing out an emotion of their own.  The young man bounded into the coach and moved towards his seat.   His face betrayed his emotions ever so slightly but his body betrayed his emotions as he slumped into his chair. He again nodded to his mother  to go.  She gestured as if to say let the train move and I will go. She clutched a thermos tightly to her, as if clutching her son and unwilling to let him go.
I looked at her, her clothes were not expensive but certainly reflected a certain taste in colours and cut.  She was certainly a little dishevelled but that could be due to travelling or the slightly warmed up weather.  Why was she alone, I wondered or maybe the father could not come or what. I looked at the son, he pretended not to look at her, but was casting quick glances at her. He appeared engrossed in himself. I wondered who he was, perhaps a “fauji” returning to his base or a banker travelling to his branch in some small town. The train sounded the horn and then again, the guard blew his whistle. The last minute commotion scenes started playing out as relatives and friends got down or jumped in with swift good byes.
The young man looked at his mother as the train slowly jerked into motion. She smiled bravely, waved and started moving along the train. She was waving away, the young man gestured just once, a brief acknowledgement. But he was looking at her only. Around him the families chatted away, totally oblivious to the emotional storm playing around them. The train gathered momentum and the lady’s composure broke, first it was one dab at her eyes with the edge of the duppatta, then more dabs, then she just let the tears flow. The young man made as if to get up and then sat back with a gesture of being helpless. My last glimpse of her was standing, waving forlornly, tears still on her face, alone in the crowd in the shadows cast by the setting sun. The young man sat still for quite some time after that, hands over his eyes and it seemed he was sleeping. But I knew he was caught in a storm of emotions and was simply regaining composure. This byplay sort of haunted me all through the journey. As we reached our destination, I looked for the young man, but he seemed all action. He helped an old couple remove their luggage, picked up his own in one strong movement and was amongst the first to move out. As I got down, I saw him moving swiftly towards the exit gates in long self assured strides.
This then is life. It’s series of journeys, people come and go, some partner you a long way, some briefly. Pass and enjoy the time happily, remember these happy moments wherever you go.  The heart may ache but it also knows when it’s time to move on.

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