Hum Hain Rahi Pyar Ke

Sometime in the winter of 2010 I was travelling back to Bangalore from my native Byadgi. The bus stopped in the wee hours at the final destination near Anand Rao Circle Bangalore. It was still dark outside. With little or no sleep, the thought of going to work on a Monday away from the comforts

of home wasn’t a good feeling which most must have experienced. 

I generally wait till all the passengers disembark from the bus. When I thought all had gotten down, I lazily moved to pick my bag up.

My sight went to the last rows of the bus where a girl woke up from sleep stretching her hands and yawning. Her hair untied, she was fair, little on a chubbier side, wore sleeveless kurta and was looking very pretty. Ask about scanning a girl in a second that too with half sleepy eyes.

“Which city is this”? She asked still sitting in her seat tying her hair.

That surprised me.

“Where are you going?” I asked

“Bangalore”

“This is Bangalore; the final stop. Please get down” I said and got down from the bus.

I waited outside for an auto rickshaw. My thought went to the girl in the bus who seemed to be a naivete. It wouldn’t be safe for her in the dark if she didn’t know the city, I thought.

Then I felt someone coming closer and standing next to me. I turned my head and it was the same girl. She looked at me and smiled. I felt that made my Monday. She looked surreal.

“New to the city?” I asked pretending not to be over enthusiastic.

“Yes” she nodded.

“Do you know how are you going to your home or wherever you have to go?” I asked.

“No. I thought of asking. Are there busses here?” She asked confusingly.

“No. You have to take autos. Where do you have to go?”

“Maruti Nagar”

“Aah. That’s just couple miles away from the place Wilson Garden I’m going to. If you don’t mind, we can share an auto and share the fare as well” I sounded honest.

She nodded gleefully.

The next moment we both were in an auto zooming in no traffic. She wasn’t one of those who sit at the extreme edge of the seat just to be safe. She sat comfortably.

“Alright. Where are you coming from?” I broke the ice.

“Belgaum”

“Your purpose of visit?” I was curious.

“I’m doing my M Tech in Belgaum. I came to do a 4 week internship in Bangalore. My friend lives in Maruti Nagar. She actually works here. I’ll be staying with her” She said in a breath.

I saw that she crossed her hands and held her shoulders, shivering in cold. I took out my jacket and offered her. She took it thanking me and covered herself.

“Actually I’m from Calcutta you know” She said.

“Oh tomi bongoli ! tomi khob bholo logolo baba. Mishit doi”

She burst out laughing hearing my broken Bengali.

“Your laughter is better” I said looking at her.

“Better than what?” She asked.

“Than your smile”

She blushed.

Then I told her that I was living in the city for over couple years and was working in an IT firm.

.

“Bangalore is a lovely city you know to hang around over the weekends. But just make sure you don’t travel on weekdays. Traffic sucks here” I was giving her gyan.

She was worried looking at her cell phone.

“What happened?” I asked

“Gosh! My cell battery got drained. I’m supposed to call my friend at Maruti Nagar” she said.

“No issues. You can use my phone. Hope you remember her number?”

She took my phone and spoke to her friend, asked for the landmark and said she was coming in an auto.

Wilson garden stop almost neared.

“The meter is around 100 rupees. It would hit around 150 till it reaches your place. And here is my share of 75 rupees” I took out my wallet.

“You are paying more” she blurted.

“That’s fine. Let’s share the journey” I said.

There was some silence.

“You are very nice. I don’t know how to thank you enough for all your help” she sounded sweet. I could see the sparkle and gratitude in her eyes.

I had liked her casualness and her carefree smile. I wanted to help her genuinely.

 “You can. By saying something” I told.

“Something? What is that?” she was puzzled.

“I’ll tell you when I get down” I said.

“You are funny” She laughed.

The auto stopped at Wilson garden. I grabbed my bag and jacket and got down from the auto.

Standing out, I bent over and told her,  “This probably was one of the sweetest journeys of my life. I want it to remain in our memories this way. You don’t know my name and I don’t know yours. Let’s just make it memorable by… probably never meeting again”

She looked baffled.

“And to make sure.. I’m deleting your friend’s number too." I took out my phone and went to the dialled numbers and deleted her friend’s number showing it to her.

She was quiet.

“And as I have told you, can you please repeat something after me?” I reminded her.

She nodded.

“Hum hain rahi pyar ke. Fir milenge chalte chalte”

She burst out laughing.

“What is this?” She asked.

“Just say it please. Hum hain rahi pyar ke. Fir milenge chalte chalte” I was adamant.

She said still laughing, “Hum hain rahi pyar ke. Fir milenge chalte chalte”

The auto zoomed away and I didn’t look back.

Antakshari

Late last year I returned from the US and was still struggling to settle down in Bengaluru. Sometime in November, I saw an ad about Library week in office. There were Dumb Charades and Antakshari competitions planned. ‘This is my kinda stuff’, I thought.  

I went to the Library on the specified date/time for the Antakshari competition as much excited as a kid running to a newly opened Six Flags in its neighborhood. And as expected, all other participants were freshers.  The guy, my partner who I had dragged along was a 2 year experienced who cribbed, “I would be feeling terribly awkward to participate along with all those freshers”

The competition began. There was a team of two girls who were giggling all the time; they were eccentric, arrogant and over confident. In one of the rounds, I sang Ram Leela’s ‘Anga laga de re'. These girls objected that I skipped one word, so I shouldn’t be awarded any points. The judge snatched away our points for that. I got really annoyed because I believed when you sing a song, there should be leeway for one or two mistakes. Then whatever song those girls sang, I proved to the judge that all those songs either had different beginning or they had missed one or the other word. Then those furious girls walked off in the middle of the competition. May be they wanted to kill me if it wasn’t office.

Then after that incident, whenever one of those girls, the shorter one, saw me in Cafeteria, at Library or at parking lot, she gave a nasty stare. I somehow liked that; the competitive spirit, the burning desire to win, the pain of loss and the momentary hatred for your opponents. A much much younger person taking panga with me was so endearing. That's how it should be in corporate world, or rather everywhere. All should be equal; no hierarchies whatsoever. At least that's how it is in my utopian world in my mind.

About 6 weeks later or so, I saw that girl in my ODC. Someone said she was one of the few freshers the HR had promised us to allocate to my project. That evening I conducted an induction meeting to those new joinees. After the meeting, this girl came to me sheepishly and said, “Sorry sir. Sorry sir”

“Don’t be” I said smilingly.

“I’m sorry for my behavior sir”

“That’s fine. I like you. And please! Don’t call me ‘sir’”

“Ok sir”, she said gleefully. She continued, “how about we two forming a team for the next year Library week competitions?”

“I would love to, but I know one thing for sure. After one year, like everyone else you would grow serious, and you would say that you would be feeling terribly awkward to participate with all the other freshers”, I said, this time with no smile.