Mumbai’s local train carries a millions of lives every day. Every smile, every laugh, every talk has a story behind it. A couple holding hands on the door, a girl flying her hair in the air with earplug in the ears, guys touching every pole that comes on the door or whistling some old song or shouting at a person in another car! Every story is deep, senseless or meaningful, stupid or serious; some stories, breaking the hearts of the speaker while some breaking the hearts of the listener. A stranger we see in every face has someone closer. I found a good and genuine friend one day, just for a day.
I was returning to hostel from a busy train of 11.38 PM. There was not enough space for me to get in with my camera bag and a set of tripod on my back. Usually, the night shifts finish at 11.00. So it was actually expected to be crowded on Thursday. Looking after such a big backpack and a tripod and ensuring that it goes safe is a challenge. I am not a challenger. I let the crowd in first and then I stepped in the train. I left from Malad and got the place to sit at Andheri, this happens only if you are lucky. I always am! I sat near a person continuously staring at the window he was sitting at. Not through the window but at the window. I smiled to myself and said,“ Local main hoon, nayi baat nahi!” I opened a book with photographs which one of my friend had given me.
“Are you make the Picture?, Same Dhoom? Same Dabangg?” Listening to his question actually made me conscious about him. He was a clean shaved boy of age about 20 years. He had an eye catching ear-ring which has made his ear a little flat at the bottom. He might have never replaced it since childhood. His nose was big and his eyes were small or were small because he also seemed not slept for long time. His Shirt was white and had become dirty brown, his pants were grey and torn below the knee. I couldn’t see any footwear but his figure looked miserable. His dark, fat eyebrows had almost covered his forehead; he smiled at me, “ I know English; you no speaking in Rajasthani.” Later I realized that his ‘Know’ was actually a ‘No’.
“Hi, mera naam Jay.” I thought it would be better to speak in language we bith probably knew better. “Main bas ek student hoon aur photography bhi karto hoon.”
“My name is Pankaj, I want to be hero in Picture.” I realized that he understood Hindi but he wanted to continue the same. “I working in the hotel in the Dadar. Go home, come from train from Jaisalmer.” I could understand what he actually wanted to say but his continuous smile was making me uncomfortable. I wanted to talk to him but he wouldn’t stop to let me talk. “Lining on road, night- day full to fun.” Some lines didn’t make any sense to me though. His eyes suddenly getting bigger made me smile though it was not about his lifestyle but was all about the way he expressed it to a stranger like me. “Seth like me. Giving chutti. Agle mahineko firse I am going home.”
Finally he took a break; I picked up, “How do you know English? Do you go to college?” I knew it was too early to ask but I couldn’t resist myself.
“I seeing English picture in Rajasthan, I fail 8th. Baap dead so I am working.” I wonder how he could smile telling everything though it was not necessary. I just said, “Nice, that you work….” I left the sentences half spoken. Maybe I had got the answers. The biggest answer was he is not the only one. Peeking into the others life actually would make no sense to me though I would think about. I actually could not help it at this stage. I took a deep breath and exhaled. I closed my eyes and put in my headsets. Soon after Santacruz station while I had barely finished half of a song he slugged me with shoulder and asked if he could make a call. I thought, “Oh! So this is why his face was not stopping between the sentences!” But I offered him my cell phone; he called, spoke for a minute or two and gave it back. His thanking speech didn’t end till we reach Mahim.
His face was not smiling loud as it was before he make the call. His forehead was visible now and was wrinkled with frowns. He again moved to the window; Stared again. I interrupted; “Any problem brother?” He turned head with closed eyes. “Aap muze kuch paise de sakte hai? Sau bhi chalengey. Bhagwan jaane fir mile to lauto bhu dunga.” I saw the weight in his words, his tone was changed with little roughness. His accent was not fake but was from the heart. I noticed the language much later. I hesitated to give him money he asked for. That was quite big amount for me, not doubting more about his genuinely I picked up a note of Fifty Rupees and offered him hardly when it announced for Dadar. He joined hands and bowed down. He held my hand tightly and said, “Thank you. Aapki madad nahi bhul paunga.”
The train stopped, he alighted. I was replaced on the window seat where he was. He waved the hand at me with a heavy hearted face. The train took me away with confusion. What if he just fooled me? What if he uses the money for wrong purpose? I reached to my hostel with the same doubts.
It takes time to forget a stranger like him. It hardly took a couple of days for me. Maybe after a week and half my phone rang saying, “Hello friend, remember me? Pankaj, Train mein mila tha, raatko. You giving me money? I am in Rahasthan. My behen ki shaadi happened yesterday. If you not give me money I am coming here, no shaadi.”
“Pankaj, aap sach me bhule nahi! You remember me!” I said.
“Sir, Dadarme mera Seth aapko aapka paisa de denge. Shayad abhi hero banana nahi hoga. Ajmer jar aha hoon.” Before I could say anything he gave me name of the hotel he used to work at, name of his Seth and the address which I did not noted because I was thinking what would have happened.
“Mamaji ka mobileme aapka number mila. Fir nahi baat hogi ab Ajmerme maa ke sath rahoonga.” He said thanks again and disconnected the call. He is one of those strangers whom I know will never meet me again in my life but will care always of miss the day we met. At least I could imagine him smiling through his voice. His happiness actually worth more than anything.
SMILE
N-JOY
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