On Love

Koel. The girl with the beautiful voice. The girl Rudhro was so deeply, so irreparably in love with.

Rudhro, who woke up every morning with  hope. Five years back, it was the hope of making Koel feel the way he felt for her. That rush of wind that lifted him off his feet every time he saw her. That feeling, like roses and mint and all things beautiful.

Then they fell in love. A full-fledged relationship that was declared as a commitment on Facebook. Koel, girl-with-beautiful-voice, got herself a job at last. When the state decided the capital required a metro rail system, the experts were called, the roads were dug, and after three years, the metro was ready to ply. It was then that the owner of the world’s most beautiful voice (or so Rudhro thought, at least) swooped in and took her one shot at immortality. Koel: the girl who didn’t care about security, stability, income and such mundane matters, auditioned and got selected to be the voice that rang aloud at every, every stoppage on the metro-rail routes connecting the north and south of the city. 

“The next stoppage- Xyz. Xyz station. Doors will open to the left. Mind the gap.”

Five years of being together. Memories. Some that you wish to steal from time. And some that even the most corrosive memory-detergent can’t erase. And at the end of it, Rudhro made a decision. Suddenly the levitation-enabling wind stopped blowing. So one morning Rudhro woke up with a new hope. He now hoped he could bring himself to tell Koel (who after that one pay-cheque had ceased looking for another job) that they needed to break up.

If this would still be love, he reasoned with himself, there would still be this magic- like…umm...say… a telepathic ability to read each other’s mind from afar. say, I want her to call me now. See, it isn’t love anymore. If I shut my eyes and ask her to call, will she? Call me, Koel.

Tring. Tring.

The phone?? How did that…?!

Hello?...yes, speaking….

 Then, silence. Like when the harshest of winters freezes the water in the pipes. A chill through the veins.

The voice from the other side rang in his ears- “ Yes, I am Inspector Bamji. You know any one named Koel--? There’s a bad news, I’m afraid….accident…could you please.. have to identify the body…

It was then that Rudhro ceased to listen to the voices (or noises) around him. It was, he thought, the cruelest joke God could ever play on any man.

He tried crying. Tears denied him a visit. He buried his faced in a pillow, and after a week, sleep came.

Two days later, Rudhro woke up with a hope. A hope of listening to that voice again. A ticket. A jump into a coach. Being seated.

“The next stoppage- Xyz. Xyz station. Doors will open to the left. Mind the gap.”

“The next stoppage- Abc. Abc station. Doors will open to the right. Mind the gap.”

“The next stoppage- Jkl. Jkl station. Doors will open to the left. Mind the gap.This line terminates at this station…”

Another ticket. Another jump. Being seated again. Then,

“The next stoppage- Abc. Abc station. Doors will open to the left. Mind the gap.”

Rudhro. Man with a hope, in love with the girl with the beautiful voice. On the longest journey of his life, a circle without a stop, without an escape.

 ~ Mouli Banerjee