THE FELLOW FOR HIS FALLEN TIME

The last train for the day had already left. While I could only hear the clock chime and passerby's drop their dime. Time had halted its hustle compelling me to down to the station master; begging for some reprieve.

"I am afraid nothing can be done about this situation mister", replied the station master.
"So, that means I have no other alternative to board another today and if I can, I need to be on my way to the next station Farikpur", I politely reaffirmed.

The station master with his shrewd look and a moustache with pointy ends, stared right through me uttering, "That's the issue". Whence forth he noted down something in his diary which he carried along lingering towards the other onlookers to fill his coffer.

Maybe I could have done the same. Yet, barren from work and whim. Off late I was restless and tired. Therefore I had no choice but to hash the timetable and take my place by the rugged benches with a strong coffee.

I know what you are thinking! Wouldn't it have been better off, if I had gone home and taken some rest after a long day's toil. Returning tomorrow fresh and free from the load.

The thing about this situation that you don't understand is. 'I have a nine year old daughter with a heart condition and an anxious wife who doesn't know her way around waiting for me'. If I did decide to stop by my abode I would have found the pillow too cold and head too heated up with a promise.

The ponderances and palpitations wouldn't let me move into slumber; but will rather help me to stay up all night, drowsy and dreaming and looking for other resorts. Nicotine maybe!

Mulling the contents of my coffee, I got lost in thought remembering this morning! Slipping the last end of my tie and strewing up my laces. I had forgotten to remind my wife to not be late on arrival at the station and left the brewing beverage cold made by her on the table. It seems she remembered!

Firstly, a client was waiting for me at the office and secondly after a scurry of lost cases and inconvenience to pay the rent, I had to get this in my favour.

This day of all days, was important to me because my daughter's heart operation beckoned in two days. We were off to Gurupur, engulfing the 'Gandhi heart Institute'. A long one day's ride to the place via train and right now I was looking at the shrunken signal bar my mobile phone had to offer.

While my senses of taste blurted with a hot streak of brown liquid frying my tongue. Waking me to the situation, from where I heard an announcement "Mr. Vikram Saha, you are requested to pick up your package from enquiry".

Out of sheer curiosity I visited the enquiry office, where intuitions met and they asked if was advocate Vikram Saha? All they did was hand me cat, and it was not any random road roaming puss. It was my daughter's puss reminding of my promise. The officers told me that she personally asked them to keep it for me.

Later on, I took my place back in those benches, comforting the fur of 'mack' as she purred with ecstasy. This time I was completely lost in wonderment and amazement of the love my daughter possessed towards me. Both of them knew not to miss our appointment.

Meanwhile, a tramp with a torn shawl and white beard supporting himself with the walker stick carrying a cat features similar to mine. Sat beside my bench asking for alms.

"Would the good gentlemen be so humble and give the poor a share of his fortune", spitted the hunched fellow.
"I have nothing to offer I am afraid", I spoke hesitantly.
"You surely do have something to offer", recanted the beggar again with a sly look in him.
I inquired, "What?"
He replied, "Yourself" and started laughing whole-heartedly. While his cat winced.

However, I didn't give much a due. Dwelling upon my current dilemmas, I dozed off to a snooze till the next morning dawn and clamour of stalls, coolies and public broke my sleep.

I stretched and took the early morning aroma into my lungs looking towards the side of the bench; where the old decrepit managed to hobble into. Fortunately there was no trace of him, just my imagination of a delirious chuckle and a piece of newspaper reel on which he dined.

I don't know what sort of reluctance relayed me on to pick that unkempt paper. As my eyes laid still and numb; my brain tingling with a shower of words that oozed from whispers.

'Gurupur express in flames', 'no passengers survived', 'fell victim to a bomb explosion', 'suspected terrorist group involved'.

I don't know why it tranquilized me and I felt a state of trance rolling into me.

Touching my cheek, I felt the prickles of that hour break into me like thousand pins acupuncturing my face. My legs began to bobble for I waited 10 years and am still to hear from my family.

All I could hear was the long hoot of a train that left at its hour and gaze at the cat beside me licking her paws.