We both look at our watches anxiously. Time is ticking away. Will the guy be on time? Will we be able to grab him? Can we make it…? The anxiety is growing in our minds and we are getting irritable and restless. Soon I get a call on the phone and am galvanized into action and I shout out instructions to my pal.
It is pitch dark on the other side of the airport pedestrian walkway. Soon the silhouette of a clumsy man limping emerges from the bright background of the heavily lighted airport. As we sight him I and my pal move out of the shadows I and accost him from the side.
The time and place can’t be more appropriate than now to get a hand on the sole travel bag that the guy held in his hand. An eye contact with my accomplice and a signal to make our move gets us started. A few gawky jostles from both the sides was all it took to snatch the bag from the oblivious guy. As I snatched the travel bag from the guy and ran out of the pedestrian walk way into the main road, my accomplice gets the cue immediately and sprints to catch up.
The clumsy man looks around for help. With no one around he finds no option but to run behind us. Fortunately for us the signal gets clear for the pedestrians to cross the main road just as my accomplice catches up. A dash across the road and we reach the Trisulam railway station.
“Hold this” I tell my accomplice flinging the big travel bag at him. “You go upstairs to the platform, I will go and get the tickets.”
“OK,” he says as he barely manages to get hold of the bag and runs down the stairs. His pace slows down as he in his huge pants reaches the other end of the subway and waits for me.
Soon the clumsy guy catches up and walks into the well lit area inside the station. We see the man fully now… He has a round face and a rounder belly. He is a perfect incarnation of Lord Ganesha. Dragging his feet and a face full of sweat he reaches the ticket counter looking for the guys who confiscated his travel bag. With blood rushing into his face he is unsure whom to chase, the guy who bolted with his bag or me standing in the ticket queue who is not having his bag.
I give a mischievous wink and a grin at his confused look while my turn to buy the ticket comes. Seeing not much reason to follow me, he decides to run behind his bag. With a dart, hop skip and jump I reach the end of the subway leading to the railway platform. Limping as he is, his pace is slow as a snail lest he fall down. It takes no time for me to catch up with him and overtake him in a few seconds. His face is now redder than before and lips pursed as he tries hard to hold his whole body intact while lunging at the stairs.
Breath regained, my accomplice waits patiently for me to join him. He is confident that the guy following us will take ages to catch up. As I approach, he instructs ”Platform 2.”
The railway station has a deserted look with no one in the platform. We glance back to see that the guy has finally managed to climb the stairs and is heading our way.
We rush along the length of the platform with our hearts racing and take a break at the nearest bench. “Phew!” my accomplice exclaims, “that was close.” Taking a pause to breathe, the guy searches hither and thither for us, and starts on his mission yet again. With both his hands near his hips, his running can be equated to the fast walk of ours.
“its pathetic to see him run like this,” sympathized my accomplice.
“Don’t sympathize too much. It’s entirely his fault. He shouldn’t be so careless,” I rebuked.
The guy was approaching fast. We could see his silhouette grow bigger and bigger as he was closing in on us. But we were not afraid of him. It would actually not take long for a person to strike him and injure him, but we did not want to do that. And why should we do that? We were not robbers…! We have not stolen anything.
“I made it” the guy exclaims with a muffled laugh as he nears us. His run has now turned into a walk.
“Yeah!” I and my accomplice agree and break into a good laugh.
“That was a good run Mamaji, but look at you, you are so exhausted,” I protest.
“That’s OK,” he sighs and sits down on the bench as he realizes that he is indeed tired from the adventure.
What is this adventure? Here’s a flashback.
Two Days Ago ….
It was a fine evening and I was having a cup of coffee along with snacks after a hard day’s work and chatting with my cousin who is always loaded with tales from his college. As we chatted, laughed, cracked jokes and pulled each other’s legs, the phone rang. Being Lazy to get up from our place lest it breaks our rhythm of enjoyment, we ignore the rings. The call was finally taken by my aunt. But just as we hear the ‘M’ word we are stunned and our ears are straining to hear the phone conversation. Our laughter was gone, jokes missed and tales …. What tales?
Both – my cousin and I were cursing each other for not picking up the phone first. How could we be so lackadaisical and miss a call from our ‘Mamaji.’ What was Mamaji telling on the other side which was keeping my aunt glued to the phone so long and answers only in monosyllables? Hanging on to each word uttered by my aunt, we both were trying to decipher what that call could mean.
Finally as she exclaimed “OooK” (the big stretch of OK usually said at the end of the call), we both felt let down. Was she going to hang up the phone without our getting a chance to talk to him? How could my aunt or even Mamaji even think of hanging up without us talking? After all we get to meet or talk to him only once in a while.
A brief about Mamaji ….
There are actually lots of pages to write about him. With great difficulty, an abridged version of what he is mentioned here….
Totally adorable, you cannot see this man without a big grin if not a big laugh. He does not know how to get angry. Very intelligent and among the most practical, common sensed and innovative person I have known. An excellent guide when it comes to choosing our career and very supportive on our choices. He has shaped the future of almost all the grandchildren of Swaminathan clan. He is a pleasing personality with humble thoughts and simple living. If we start talking to him, we can’t stop laughing and notice time passing by. Having fun without offending others is his forte.
Back to the flashback ……
When such a pleasing personality is on call, who would not like to hear a byte from him? As my aunt kept the receiver down, our heads hung.
“Hey! Why do I see such hung faces?” She enquired.
“Why did you keep the receiver down?” we countered.
“He was in a hurry, that’s why.” She explained trying to soothe us.
With droopy faces we tried to continue our forgotten conversation. Unable to bear the isolation, we finally went to our aunt and confronted her. “What did he say?” we questioned.
“About what?” she replied puzzled.
“On the call of course,” we clarified.
“Oh that! Nothing special. Just general enquiries,” she made clear.
“Nothing for us?” we asked surprised.
“What’s about you to talk?” she asked amazed.
With no more sentences or words in our kitty, we began to troop out of the room. As we reached the door, she opened up, “He is coming day after tomorrow.”
“What!” we both exclaimed in disbelief. ” When, where, how and how long?” we questioned in chorus.
“Shhh…! Quiet. He is coming here only as a hopper. His flight from Kolkota is coming late in the evening and then he has to catch the Rockfort Express train to Trichi. So he wants all you kiddos to meet him, pick him up at the airport and accompany him till Tambaram from where he will catch the Rockfort express train.” She explained the details.
“What! So this is a hop over place? He is not spending even a night with us?” We enquired unable to conceal our disappointment in our voice.
A concave smile was all that we got from my aunt. Still we were partially happy. We could at least meet him and chat for a while. And so we started counting the hours…
At the airport
We arrived at the airport an hour before the flight’s arrival. Squeezing and pushing our way through the crowd we managed to get to the vantage point in the first row in the visitors’ lounge. Our eyes were constantly on the board displaying the flight arrival status and on our watch. There was a gap of around two hours between the flight arrival time and the departure time of the train. But two hours seemed too less considering the amount of time he would take to come out of the airport, commute to Tambaram, have dinner and chat as well.
But just when things need to go right, they will go wrong. The flight was delayed by half an hour. Our anxiety mounts as the meeting time gets reduced by 30 minutes.
Finally the status board showed “ARRIVED” against the flight. Our eyes immediately started scanning the baggage lounge and all the people who are coming out. None of them resembled to the slightest extent our Mamaji. More than half an hour had passed since the flight arrived, but there was still no trace of him. Our tension kept mounting. To top it all, he never carried a cell phone. He never had one. There was no way we could contact him to know our whereabouts.
Suddenly my cell phone rang. It was an unknown number. Irritated that it might be one of those credit card sales people, I frowned and barked a “Hello!” into the phone.
“Hello,” I heard a familiar shout amidst the background commotion from the others side as well. I recognized the voice immediately.
“Mamaji! Where are you? Where are you calling from?” I enquired.
“Where are you guys?” He shouted above the din.
“We are in the visitors lobby waiting and looking for you,” I replied.
“I waited for you guys in the lobby but could not find you,” he explained.
“That’s fine. But where are you calling from now?” I enquired.
“From a phone booth outside the airport,” he replied.
I quickly moved away from the crowd and run in the direction where the phone booth might possibly be located. Simultaneously I signal to my cousin also to move away from the crowd and search for Mamaji outside.
“OK, Keep talking, give me a landmark or a signboard that you can see from the phone booth,” I instructed.
As he meticulously gave directions we moved towards him and spotted him. It was a mix of emotions when we saw him. We were relieved to have found him, angry for the fiasco, excited to get to talk to him; and the irritation that we have lost so much time already. But we have no time for anger or irritation. Time was too less to share our happiness itself. We had to plan our next move and we finally decided to go to Trisulam railway station. As we walked down the pedestrian walk way out of the airport, my cousin and I fought to walk close with Mamaji. Sometimes walking ahead of him just to hear him clearly, sometimes beside him to enable him to walk comfortably; walking was a juggle.
Half the time was spent in discussing how we missed each other at the airport. How we missed is right now not essential for me to describe as well. By the time we reached the end of the pedestrian walkway out of the airport, we had only 45 minutes left for the departure of his train. We decided on a pact. Since Mamaji cannot run fast, let him come slowly. I will go and buy the tickets and my cousin will go to the platform and beg the Engine driver to wait in case the train arrives but we haven’t. And so the chase began.....
Back to the present
The whole adventure from the airport to Trisulam railway station had taken 10 minutes. The local train came around 15 minutes later. So technically we had 20 minutes left to catch the train to Trichi. Considering the local train journey would take 15 minutes to reach Tambaram, we had only 5 minutes to run from first platform to the last platform from where the Rockfort Express would depart.
The Local train journey was filled with our updates of our college lives, career aspirations and other events, his encouragements and chirpy talks.
As the train reached Tambaram sanatorium, the penultimate stop, I chided him, “Why did you decide on such a short hop stop here?”
“I had no other go,” he replied.
“What if you miss the train?” we sighed.
“I will stay back to be with you all and catch the bus tomorrow morning” he replied unfazed.
This answer struck both of us. Inwardly we were hoping that he misses his train. The only consideration that stopped us from outwardly expressing this desire was the fact that my cousin at Trichi also needed her father’s attention. In spite of this, we did express this concern in low voices which he heard too. He only laughed loudly at it and PROMISED that next time he came he would spend at least a night with us.
As the local train reached Tambaram station we had seven minutes to go. This would be required to hop skip and jump to the last platform. Since we had a bonus of two more minutes, we decided on not running, but to walk fast.
We successfully waded through the crowd and reached the steps on the foot over bridge at the end of first platform. Talking, laughing and chattering we climbed up and down the stairs and reached the last platform, expecting the Rockfort Express train to arrive at any moment.
The platform bore an empty look as we sat down on a bench near about the place where mamaji’s coach would stop.
“So, what else?” Mamaji enquired.
“Nothing much other than that we hardly got time to spend with you,” said my cousin with a tinge of sadness and concern.
“Had I missed this train, I would have definitely been with you. Agli baar dekhenge (Will see next time).” He gave hopes.
Our conversation was interrupted by the railway public announcement informing the arrival of the Rockfort Express. And soon the lights in the entire platform came on. By the time we could wink, the train arrived and our Mamaji boarded the train even as we handed over his travel bag and food parcel.
Bidding a cheerful goodbye, we returned back home silently with a heavy heart but with hopes that we would be able to spend ample time with him “The Next Time.”
That “Next Time” never came. Once he even missed his train, but a near empty bus just outside the airport beckoned him and carted him away to Trichi.
Today, Mamaji is there to spend time with us, but neither my cousin nor my brother is here in India to enjoy his conversations.
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