Accidental Meeting

A chance meeting between a mother and her estranged daughter. The story is set in a train journey

The train was already at the platform, I ambled my way to the AC 2 tier coach. Ten more minutes for departure, I casually checked the seating chart, Rama Nagarajan and two other ladies were in the same compartment as me.

Could it be, I wondered .....,

As I walked towards my seat I heard her voice. She was (as always) the loudest in the group and sounded very excited. I did not recognise the other two names. But the conversation indicated that the three woman had been friends for a while.

I put my luggage under the seat and casually looked at her, she too was staring at me. As soon as our eyes met, she glanced away. It was obvious that she did not want to acknowledge me, I too looked away. She had aged, was wearing a small bindi customary to woman who had lost their husband. Her face too had mellowed. Twenty years does take a toll on a person.

It was late, I made my bed and moved up to my bunk. The ladies downstairs continued with their chatter, but she did not speak much. As I lay on the bed, incidents from the rather painful past flashed through my mind. I casually glanced towards her on the lower berth, it was dark and I could not see her, I am sure she was awake too and maybe she too was remembering those days.

I was a different person twenty years ago. No one could have guessed that I would become a successful business person or for that matter be able to stand on my own two feet. The physical scars were gone, but the mental ones were still there, deep and hidden somewhere in the back of my mind. I vividly remember the day I landed on their doorstep, bruises all over my body, scared and helpless. Why he hit me, that I do not recall, all I wanted was for my own parents to hug me and give me some hope for the future.

My father was furious when he saw me,

"Why do you have to anger him so much, What will our relatives say"?

Then he turned towards my Mother and said, "Call them in the morning, tell them that we are sorry, talk to Mami and say that our daughter is immature. We will send her back by the night train". No questions about my health, he did not even care to even find out what had happened. I had been married off and was expected to stay with my husband. My mother always did what my Father asked.

Her husband was dead, yet she did not want to recognize me. Even today, she did what my father would have wanted.

Chennai to Delhi is a 36 hour journey. I could not pretend to sleep all day and had to come down when the breakfast was served. The other two ladies tried to strike a polite conversation with me. They were traveling to Rishikesh and were excited about taking a dip in the Ganges at the Har ki Powli ghat in Haridwar. They mentioned that another friend of theirs was in the AC three tier compartment, she decided to join them at the last minute and could get only AC three tier tickets. I slowly glanced at her, she was now maintaining a stoic silence, her eyes were puffy, she too had not slept all night.

Just before noon, the other too ladies decided to meet up with their other friend. I was now alone with her. Slowly our eyes met, her eyes were moist, a tear rolled down my cheek too.

"When, did it happen", I asked.

Three years ago, he had cancer, she said. I felt no sorrow, I did not want to mourn my own father.

"Are you happy", she asked.

'I am at peace', I replied.

A long silence followed. I wanted to tell her about my life, her grandson and little granddaughter, my job ... but not a word escaped my lips. Maybe she too wanted to fill me up with the happenings of the past two decades, but she too did not utter a single word.

The other two ladies came back, I reverted my gaze from her and pretended to read.

After lunch, I asked the ladies if their friend would like switch seats with me. The surprised yet delighted women jumped at the offer. I took my luggage and walked towards the AC Three tier compartment. I had run way twenty years ago and have not stopped running since.

Author's Note

A mother is not always your best friend,

Reviews

[duke]

ms. sharda

your observational skills and insights into the human condition are inspiring.

these insights and observations can weigh heavy on our hearts and souls and sometimes sharing with like-minded others can ease the weight as we are happy to share the load.

thank-you for sharing your works

duke