Of Tattoos, Teas and Tiaras

Of Tattoos, Teas and Tiaras

It's 5 am in the city of Delhi, the sun is yet to rise. Cool breeze of autum has started spreading over the city and birds have also adjusted thier morning calls accordingly. Gayatri turns off her alarm as she gathers her bags near the door, she has a train to catch and her anxiousness has her ready before time, like always. She drags her trolley over the bumpy driveway of her street to get into her cab. Fussy as always, she checks everything before taking a seat, waves her dad a goodbye and leaves. 

The city is still asleep in deep slumber, barring a few devotees in temples and mosques offering early morning prayers. Marking the oncoming festivities, Saptaparni trees are in full bloom, spreading their light fragrance around. She rolls down her window and let's in the cool breeze. 

"Bhaiyya AC off kardijiye, mausam achha hai." She tells her driver. "Aapko koi pareshaani to nahi na?" She asks.
"Nahi madam, hum to khud bina AC chal re the, aapke aane k pehle chalu kiya bas" The driver was polite. 

Drawing in a deep breathe, Gayatri took a whiff of the in flowing sweet notes of Saptaparni flowers which now filled the car. "Mhhhh ye khushbu itni pyaari lagti hai na navratri ki", Olfactory recepptors are known to make intricate links with memory. People often recall moments assocaited with smell. 

Gayatri closed her eyes taking in deep breathes of the early morning breeze. Letting in all the moments of nostalgia associated with the soft smell fill her mind. The glorious days of childhood she spent in these alleys, playing under the trees, the navratri and pujo fragrance of burnt samagri that mixed with the air. Delhi city with its hustle and bustle seldom gave the opportunity to draw a fresh breathe, so when it did, one would pounce for sure. The lanes all the way till the New Delhi Railway Station were flanked with these trees and the short drive was pleasant to her liking. 

Setting foot into the revamped railway system, Gayatri was caught by surprise. Last time she took a train, it was over a decade ago. A lot had changed since then, some welcome changes, others not so much.
Meeting up with her team members, Gayatri located her coach and seat. "Dibs on the window seat" Kshitij smirked with his glasses drawn to his nose. Claustrophobic and filled with anxiety, this one always called dibs on the window, which others happily obliged, fearing worse outcomes to deal with otherwise. 

It was going to be a long journey, and she came prepared with reading materials and snacks of her own. One thing Gayatri loved about train rides was the joy of staring out the window, and the constant chatter erupting from different corners around the coach as different people shared different stories. While not much of a talker herself, Gayatri liked to see the different perspectives people shared, especially during travel. Indian railway has it's own charm in this aspect, which no other mode of travel can compete with. 

Picking up her book, "Advice on dying, and living a better life" by Thich Nhat Hanh, Gayatri immeresed herself into reading, anticipating a not so pleasant sight outside the window in the wee hours of early morning on Delhi outskirts. The mega city is flanked by landfills on most sides. Something, no one would enjoy seeing first thing in the morning. 

Apart from being an amazing book with adaptations from the teachings of the Budhha, Gayatri also enjoyed how it caught attention, as the bizarre title was the reason she had stopped on her way outside a book store and actually walked out with it. 

"Oh my god, Gayatri why would you read that?" Richa could not help retort looking at the book. 
"Read closer," Gayatri smirked with a playful smile, revealing the latter line, which was printed in a smaller font probably by design. It was a pure marketing genius, whoever had chosen to design this cover, and Gayatri was a fan for sure. 
"Tum train mei baith k amma banogi? Kuchh interesting baat hi karlo yaar. Aaao aaju baju ki janta dekhein, mahual ka jaayza lein thoda sa" Richa was a fun person, with a contagious energy. All she needed was some chai in her system and she was a bullet rain in herself. 
"Tum log baith ni saktey kya ek jagah?" The anxiety was kicking in in Kshitij, he did not want them going and possibly crossing some unexpected mishap. "Baki tum dekh lo. I would suggest you guys stay put". He crossed his arms decidedly. The girls continued their chatter without paying heed, this was a usual routine they had come to terms with.

"Umm I don't see anyone fun, baki to apni team hai. Wo be seniors. So can't do much" Gayatri took to her seat as her gaze met their boss's who too was on the same coach a few seats away with others. 

"Kya boring aurat ho tum yaar. " Richa sipped on her tea. 
"Yaar ab bachche nahi rahey na hum k bhaagtey kheltey train ghum k aayein." Gayatri looked at Richa and they both had a playful glee in their eyes. Nostalgia danced in their eyes and at once they both were in sync. "Sir ko kya kahengey?" Was the question they both blurted out, trying to come up with a plan. "Waise I doubt he'd mind. He is anyway unbothered, and it is a public train. Hum kho thodi jaengey" Richa was right. These were two grown women, planning some absolute batshit crazy antics of roaming about like unsupervised kids. Maybe 30 really was the new 20, with more freedom that is. 

Picking up their handbags, the girls excused themselves and walked around the train. Kshitij simply gave them both a disgruntled nod, knowing aptly well, that they would go do whatever he advised against. 

It was pretty jampacked of a compartment, with full occupancy, for an early morning, and a lot of people were barely waking up as the sun was now rising. Rays pierced through the grills of the metal gaited windows. The landscape was changing to a more rural setting, with sparse houses, farms and open fields sprawling far and wide. 

There was a an empty cabin with 6 vacant seats on one of the coach, "Here we both can have a window seat" Richa exclaimed. "And no calling dibs" They chuckled. "aar usko bhi bula lete hain, nahi to baad  mei naraaz hoga" Richa spoke softly. No matter the bickering, she did regard Kshitij with a motherly softness and cared about him. "No Network though. Stupid network provider" Richa looked at her phone, half complacently.
"Okay, I'll call. Par baat tum karogi. Uske nakhre ni uthaa sakti main" Gayatri pouted. Richa was the peace maker, who understood the soft side to both these hard headed weirdos she had decided to make friends with.
"Oye, coach C4 mei aaja. Yahaan baithenge. Aur mera flask leta aaio, chai hai usme, wo bhi achhi wali ghar ki bani" Call ended. Richa was brisk in her order, not leaving room for negotiations.

Kshitij did not get to say a word. C4 was three coaches away from where they were supposed to sit. Moving trains caused motion sickness and Kshitij could not admit that, he feared being seen as a vulnerable softy. With staggering steps, he embarked on the journey. Legs shaking and hands trembling he walked all the way across three train compartments, to find the girls giggling over something silly. He peered into the coach, it was pretty sparsely occupied, this could be a safety concern. But first, he needed to draw a breathe and wipe his hands which were now sweaty with all the effort. Richa saw him first, and Gayatri turned around too. 

"You forgot her flask", Gayatri remarked. Looking at his empty hands. 
"Chai dilwa dunga usko meri maa. Tu to piti nahi, phir mera khoon kyun piri hai?" Kshitij barked.
"Okay keedz, behave!" Richa rolled her eyes at the quarrelling duo.

"Kyaa baat ho rahi thi, bada hans re the tum log." Kshiti asked. Drawing shallow breaths, and hiding them somewhat successfully. Richa however had sensed the unease. But, she decided not to ask, to save him his grace.
"Ye batao tumne ye tattoo kyun banwaya?" Richa asked.
"Ye kaisa sawaal hua bhai? Paisa kama liya tha maine apna khud ka kaafi, mood tha banwaane ka. Jaa ke laga di aag" Kshitij was haughty in manners like that.
"Okay" Richa said. "Yaar mere bestie ne apne papa ka chehra banwaya tha after he passed away, and he used to tell me body art holds deep sentimental value to people." Richa trailed off. Thinking about her old friend, who meant a lot to her and whom she hadn't seen in a while now that they had moved cities. Life is funny that way, you may not lose people but circumstances take them faraway from you and only memories remain.

"I just like body art on people in general. Added stories just make them more beautiful and meaningful, and, It's okay if you wanna hold onto your secrets." Gayatri looked at Kshitij right in the eyes and then shrugged her shoulders casually. Kshitij could not help but look at her in bafflement, she did that often. Saying things which left people scrounging for words, as if she had stolen a glimpse into their soul. "But, you never praised mine." Kshitij looked at her questioningly, she had never shown appreciation for his. Even though he had caught her saying nice things to random strangers for their body art. 

"You tell any story of a body art you know" Kshitij tried to drive the topic around. Richa chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. Plus who doesn't like a good story? 

A tea seller walked by in this coach, and Kshitij bought two cups. This was a non AC coach, and the the empty seats gave him the freedom to light a smoke while he listened. Richa munched on her complimentary Marie from the AC coach as she leaned sideway to the window, to enjoy the cool breeze from and watched over the green fields of wheat which were two months short of a harvest. They both looked earnestly at Gayatri who now straightened up her kurta as she leaned forward and got into story telling mode.

"Well it is neither my story to tell, nor to share, but since you guys asked so here goes nothing. It is a story about a body art, someone shared the blue print of. More like a thought"
"Ek minute, ek to kahaani teri nahi,upar se tattoo bhi abhi bana nahi." Khsitij intervened with his idle hand as he flicked ash with the other. Richa tapped him on his palm to shush, almost like chiding a toddler for stealing cookie dough. She did not like disturbance in her tea time, especially when story telling was involved. 
"You wanted one that I really liked right? So this is a story of a guy. Someone pretty sweet. They told me of a plan to get some body art done, and when I asked them what it was, he was shy for a moment. Which was unusual, given their overall personality. They did not want to be judged, and I coaxed them to speak up. So the plan this person has is, to get a little heart stamp on themselves. Difference being, not any heart, but rather one made with the thumb impressions of and I quote "Their daughter, not first child, but daughter". So that was pretty cute, I mean yeah, the first child could be the daughter too, but the way this person said it, with a super shy look, it was rather adorable" 
"Haaye, ye hai kidhar? Iski beti ki maa main ban jau?" Richa chuckled. 

"Ye impress karne k liye kaha hoga iske bandey ne, main bata ra hun" Kshitij had a sour face while the girls gushed over the story.

"FYI, I haven't seen them in a long while, nor do I know if I'd see them again. So no it was not some antic to impress". Gayatri rolled her eyes. She knew she was not as naïve in gauging the ingenuity of the heart. At least not as bad as Khitij gave her the credit for. She kept Khitij at a distance for the very reason, she knew he meant no harm but again, not all was good. 

"To mata, kab milogi? Jab uski shadi pe channa mereya k performance k liye auditions hongey?" Richa was making her frustration visible for Gayatri to see. "Ya main chali jaun, bhaisaab ka naam, pata phone number dedo bas tum" Richa smirked, acting like she was going to get down the very next station and snatch this mystery guy. Kshitij was visibly embarrassed and facepalmed himself, over the absurdity these two women in his life were falling for. 

Kshitij was a trail mix, hard to capture, and difficult to predict, his energy never in alignment with his words. Richa on the other hand, was a lot like water, accepting the flaws just as well as she accepted the goodness in people; neutral to everything and nothing. Gayatri, was just Gayatri, loud and clear like her name. Hiding her thoughts and emotions were both pretty difficult for her. These were all modern day hermits, living out of their fancy travel bags with curated yet, borrowed philosophies and broken dreams. Living by each day, and calling it a life. 

 

Continued From Par 1