The last night stand of a dejected lover

It might have been midnight and the rain was on full swing. I stumbled to get through my way and got all soaked in water. All I had with me was an old pen torch to guide me through the slippery path which wasn’t of much use in this heavy rain. I was terribly cold, but it didn’t matter anymore because when the sun rises I would be no more. Struggling through the thorny grasses and muddy water, I stepped on to a metallic lump and felt the coldness of this metal through my naked feet and I knew I had reached my destination. I laid down keeping my head and feet to the parallel rail and waited for the train. Far away in the cry of the rain I heard the hooting of a train to which my heart skipped a beat. I’ve waited for trains before but they were in the stations and that too for short journeys. But here in this merciless rain lying on the railway line I was waiting for the biggest journey of my life.

Molykutty, you might be enjoying your first night with your hubby, but poor Balettan is here counting his last minutes in the rain. I was crying along with the clouds, but who cared what I was doing or feeling. I felt this decision of mine a hefty and a right one. Just then I remembered, the note I had written was penned with an ink pen, which is now getting soaked in water. I wondered what a fool I was.

Lying on the rail and getting showered by the chilling rain, I started thinking about Molykutty. Those wonderful days we spent together. Molykutty’s face was all that I could see in the dark. Her long hair and mesmerizing eyes flashed in my mind. I thought about our frequent outings, small chats and my perpetual visits to the ladies hostel to give her a scare. Both of our favourite poet was ‘Balachandran Chullikadu’, both of us loved Sreenivasan’s movies and lauded MT’s writings (though I’ve never read any). Both of us preferred tea to coffee and our favourite colour was white. But they are all past and didn’t matter any more. What mattered more was our religion. She was a Christian and I, a Hindu. I wonder who created all these religions. But what hurt me more was that she didn’t accompany me to run away. She was weeping. And her Appan, a bastard took her from me. She could have rejected her family and come with me, but she didn’t. May be, she was right in her decision. A gulf settled NRI is much better than an unemployed with a torn pocket. I started crying again, but it was useless to weep in this rain and I waited for the train.

The smell of the rusty rail was vexing me, I thought of tolerating as it was the last few hours of my life and I need to be patient. But later I found out that the smell was not of the rusty rail. Some son of a bitch had defecated there in the morning and the odour was penetrating my nose. When I couldn’t stand this anymore, I stood up and walked a bit ahead and laid there and made sure no shit was around this time. Then once again I remembered Molykutty. We first met in a train. We were reading the same book and it was Molykutty who started the conversation. Anyway who cares about it now? Tomorrow the world will read about an unidentified dead body. And now, why did I write that suicide note in an ink pen. But then it struck me, that pen was gifted by Molykutty.

The rain stopped and I slept off. Hours later, I woke up. Everything was white and the sky was dazzling my eyes. Was this the heaven? A dark fellow with a big mustache appeared in my vicinity. I identified him as the lord Yama.

“Njan evidaya?” (Where am I?), I asked him.

“Thaniku urangan vere stalam kittiyilledo?”(Didn’t you get any other place to sleep?), he asked me.

I looked down and answered him in silence.

Then he said something revealing.

“Farm housil kackoos illathathukondu, njangal e ozhinja railila karyam sadhikal” (As there isn’t any toilet in the farm house, we defecate here on this abandoned rail.)

“Ayye!” was my spontaneous reply.

Totally embarrassed, I stood up and started walking towards home.

My old mother was waiting for me.

“Evide ayirunnu?” (Where were you?), she questioned me.

“Mazha ayathu kondu stationil kidannu.” (I slept in the station as it was raining), I replied.

“Hum! Narittu vayya, poi kulikada”, (You stink like anything, go and take bath), she said.

I fetched my towel and went to the bathroom following my mother’s orders like a good boy.

After a long run in the bathroom consuming gallons of water, a bar soap and 90 minutes of time, I came out as a new and a clean man. I snubbed away yesterdays events and thought of beginning a new life. My attention got diverted when I heard someone washing clothes outside. I looked out through the window and saw Moidu Kutty’s daughter Fathima outside. Well, she has grown up into a young lady. I stole her glance and winked at her. She returned a smile.