Twenty two minutes of love

The connection between them was obvious the moment their hands touched accidentally. She thanked the mandatory jerks that came for free along with the purchase of a ticket for a ride in a Mumbai local train.

It was 7:25 am in the morning , the start of another mildly romantic monsoon day in the month of June. It had been drizzling continuously for the past three days, and the air was moist and cold.

She liked the monsoons, the way the dark clouds hung so low when it was about to rain, the sound of rain drops falling from the roofs of dirty shops, the sweet smell of damp earth when it had rained for a while.

Oh, it was so romantic and she kept hoping that each subsequent day would turn out to be more romantic than the previous one.

Now, she was seated in a relatively empty compartment of the first local to Kanjurmarg, a small suburb in the outskirts of Mumbai. She would have to be in IITB by 8 am for the specially scheduled lecture. Usually, she’d not be able to take her mind off the events of the hectic day that was about to follow, but today, she was more interested in the man seated in front of her.

He was in his mid thirties, wearing a hand-printed white kurta teamed with beige cargos, a sling bag flung around his neck and a pair of nonchalant chappals. .With his intelligent eyes lurking behind the specs resting on his sharp nose, his unruly yet wavy hair worn till his shoulders, a pair artistic hands adorning his athletic frame, a few lucky charms hung around his neck and curled on his fingers, he looked no less than a charmer himself.

She knew she was always harmlessly attracted to such men – casual and ethnic, intelligent and artistic. But this time, it was different. She found herself being wildly drawn to this man.

From the moment she’d taken her seat , she didn’t fail to notice the attention he was showering her with. An endearing smile followed by a casual introduction, he was an ex- student at the JJ school of arts and an independent artist trying to make his own niche. The moment they got talking , it was as if they’d talked for years. The sort of a casual yet arousing conversation you’d have with your partner over bed-tea. Something she’d yearned for in years that’d gone by. He was talkative, yet a good listener, he had opinions but didn’t try to force them, was firm and precise but took care to sprinkle his conversation with a dose of dry humour.

She’d dressed in a hurry in the morning , but she knew she looked beautiful and elegant. Teaming up an off-white designer top with a bright floral knee-length skirt, and finishing off the look with her thick hair left open, a touch of kohl in her eyes and a dash of gloss on her lips, and a pair of cherry-hued jootis on her chiseled feet, she was all set to romance the monsoons.

He hadn’t failed to notice her beauty. Time and again, he peppered his conversation with how he’d love to paint her eyes on canvas and how her the colours on her skirt could inspire his palette. He knew how to complement a beautiful woman, without offending her.

She was charmed.

And then when the driver applied the brakes to slow down the train for a scheduled stop, the sudden jerk caused their hands to accidently touch, a moment of touch that made her realize how much she was attracted to this man.

Was she in love?

For a moment that spanned an eternity , she looked into his eyes, his firm gaze holding on to hers, she let herself go and allowed herself to bask in the pleasure of the moment, not worried about the past or the future.

The mobile in her purse rang.

“Where are you wifey?? I am waiting at the lecturers’ cabin in IITB for you. Hope you are not going to be late for you guest lecture! Love you, my girl!”

Unable to respond to her husband’s loving voice, she managed a “Yes” and snapped back to reality.

She managed a forced smile, managed to come up with a reason for looking busy and sat back deep into her seat.

7:47 am.

“KANJURMARG”. The yellow and black board announced to anyone interested.

She gave a warm look to the stranger who’d seemed like a life-long companion, said her goodbyes and made sure he wouldn’t ask her number.

As she got down on the platform and started walking towards the exit, she closed her eyes for a brief moment, remembered each detail , packed the warm memories in a basket of love and warmth, and made sure she locked away her twenty-two minutes of love in a deep corner of her mind.

As she thought fondly of her loving husband, she made sure an inner voice was there to remind her …

“Remember to throw away the key when you open your eyes”.