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Sudesh Krishnamoorthy |
All of a sudden, it is very windy and cold today. It surprises me a bit, though I have seen temperatures dropping suddenly here in this part of the world. I can see from my 16th floor office window that it's getting dark. My watch, which is 10 minutes fast, shows 6.50pm. It's almost time for me to leave. A few minutes walk will enable me to catch the usual 7.00pm train. I don't like it much because it is very cold inside. I begin walking towards the station. It will be much worse, I think, considering that I am not wearing a jacket. The train arrives and a few people board it. I recognise some of them. I decide to climb to the upper compartment and take an aisle seat. I see a woman in her mid-40s at a window seat. The middle seat is vacant. I am glad to be sitting away from the window. It gets very cold there, even though I can rest my head against it and sleep away the rest of my journey. I feel the train moving. I take A Suitable Boy, the novel I have been trying to finish for more than three months, and try to read. I am feeling too cold and tired to read the small letters. I put it back in my bag. The train stops. It's one of those bigger stops where many people get in. I look at my watch. It's just 10 minutes after I boarded the train. A lot of people enter the compartment and all the vacant seats are taken up. At the next stop, more people get in. A lady in her mid-30s comes and stands near me. Besides a handbag, she carries a polythene bag. I look at her and she looks at me. As the train starts moving again, I stand up and offer her my seat. It is too near the window, too cold for me, I tell her. She looks pleased and sits. "Are you all right?" she soon asks. Then offering her polythene bag, she says, "If you are feeling cold you can wear my jumper." I cannot speak. I never thought someone, some stranger in the train, would be so kind. I politely refuse her offer. I am lost in thought. The train suddenly seems to be moving faster. She does not look at me. She is immersed in a colourful magazine. As my station approaches, I look at her again. She is still busy in her colourful world. She doesn't seem to think that she has done anything special, anything remarkable. I feel happy and grateful.
I start walking towards my apartment. I don't feel cold anymore.
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