The BOOK
CHAPTER ONE
It all started long back. My father was in Indian Administrative Service. Because of some government policy every officer, in those days, was transferred to some other place after every 3-4 years. At that time he was posted in Ludhiana, a big industrial town in Punjab.
The house we were staying in was provided by the government. It was a huge bungalow type of house having many rooms. Three of these rooms were kept by my father and the rest were occupied by us two brothers and our mother. My father made his office in one room, where he worked before and after his regular office hours and the other room served as a waiting room for all people who came to meet him officially when he was at home. The third room was his library.
My father was a remarkable person. He was my hero and I always wanted to be like him as I was totally in awe of him. One thing that I liked most in him was when he used to sit in his library reading some or the other book with his reading glasses on and a glass of scotch on the rocks by his side. I used to watch him for a long time through a gap in the door panels, registering his each mannerism in my brain and when he wasn’t at home I used to sit in his office or library, on his chair and imitate his actions. I got immense satisfaction in aping him.
He was a man of letters. He knew many languages, English, Hindi, Punjabi, Urdu, French, German and many more. He told me that he learned foreign languages just to read some books in their original form as according to him no one can do full justice to the essence of a book while translating. He had a huge collection of books as well. They were of different languages. I and my brother were strictly forbidden to enter his library, but I always sneaked in there when nobody was at home. Nothing I liked more than doing exactly what he did. I used to sit on that chair, put his reading glasses on, have a glass of coke with some ice cubes in it on the table by my side and open some book pretending to read it.
Among his various books there was this one book that always held my attention. I found it only by chance when I was taking some other books from the top most row by keeping the chair on the table and standing on it. It wasn’t kept among other books of that row but was sort of hidden in the small space behind this row and the wall. The book was in some foreign language that I could not understand but that didn’t stop me looking at it. The fonts were roman but it wasn’t English – it could have been French or German or some other European language, but it definitely wasn’t English.
That was the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen. It was hard bound with a soft metal cover with many golden engravings. It had an old world charm and was like the books you see in Harry Potter movies. On a parchment on the front cover the name of the book was printed. As the fonts were roman I could read that very well. The book’s name was “New Delhi Express”. I guessed that New Delhi Express would be called New Delhi Express in any language, so reading the name of the book presented no problem at all.
The printing of the book was out of the world too. Shining white pages with jet black letters always took my breath away. Keeping that book open on the table and just touching its pages with my finger tips always gave me a strange thrill. It was a big book about 18 inches long, 9 inches wide and about four inches thick having about 500 pages. But it was much heavier than it looked and I always felt short of breath while removing it from its usual place. But I never cared for that for the pleasure of looking at it was any day greater than the minor trouble in lifting it.
There were some pictures in the book too. However these were not photographs but sketches. Though the book was almost like a fix for me yet one of its sketches, perhaps it was second or third sketch of the book after about 200 or so pages, which always gave me the creeps. Just looking at that sketch always sent a tingling sensation, down my spine. I was literally afraid of that sketch. Many times that sketch came in my dreams and I always woke up with a start, fully drenched with sweat. Still that didn’t stop me taking a look at the book whenever I was alone at home. I always tried hard not to open that page and enjoy the book feeling the other pages; but however hard I tried, I couldn’t succeed at it. Either the book first opened on that page or I always came across that page while going through that book. So much so that I even during my waking hours; I started having hallucinations about that sketch. I started losing my appetite and sleep. My weight came down considerably and dark circles started appearing under my eyes. But never for a moment, had I thought of stopping looking at that book. Like a junkie turns to drugs, again and again, despite knowing the dangers; I also continued to look at that book and inadvertently at that sketch. I also had something like withdrawal symptoms when I didn’t look at that book for a week or so.
However there was nothing scary in the traditional sense about that sketch. Still I was afraid of it like anything. It was a sketch of a railway station. It was a night scene with a slight drizzle. It showed two platforms with two sets of railway tracts between them. It was drawn as if the artist sat on a footbridge connecting the two platforms as it also showed the railings of the foot bridge in the foreground. It seemed that the artist sat more towards the platform on the left side than that on the right side. There were lampposts at equal intervals on both the platforms and except on a few of them; the lights were shown making a small round halo on the ground below them. There was also the name of the station written at various places but it was too hazy to make out even the language in which it was written. Strangely, except one man, who stood exactly under a lamppost at the far end of the right platform, there wasn’t any other living being shown on that station.
This man was wearing a long coat and was standing with his back against the lamppost. He was also wearing a hat. The light from the lamp post fell directly on his head and not a single feature of his was visible even when I tried to look at him through a magnifying glass. He was tall, well built and was smoking and stood there as if he had all the time in the world.
When this sketch started really troubling me and my mother was almost on the verge of taking me to the doctor, I hit upon an idea to avoid looking at it. Without caring about what would be the reaction of my father; I stapled 3-4 pages before that sketch and as many after that, together and continued my adventures with that book. My nightmares gradually stopped and I started regaining my health. My father never found out what I did to that book as he never asked me anything about it.
After staying for about 4 years in Ludhiana my father was transferred to Patiala- a historical town in Punjab. My mother, with me and my younger brother were spending holidays at my grandmother’s; so the entire shifting was done in my absence. On coming back to our new home in a new town, when one day I found myself alone in the house; I tried to look for that book in my father’s library, but couldn’t find it. I tried really hard but all in vain. I couldn’t ask my father about it as he would have known then that I frequent his library and play with his books, something he despised most.
Gradually I got busy with my medicine studies and that book went completely out of my mind.
CHAPTER TWO
I completed my MBBS from Patiala and as I was always a good student I wrote the medical post graduation entrance examination and got selected in PGIMER (Post Graduate Institute of Medical Education and Research, also known as PGI) Chandigarh for my MS (master of surgery). I scored very well in that examination and got the most difficult and sought after subject of neurosurgery.
When I was in my final year, one evening I was sitting in our open air auditorium to watch some cultural program organized by some NGO (Non Government Organization) to help the poor patients. I hated all such programs but went there as I had nothing else to do. The program hadn’t started yet and I was sitting with my head down thinking about a complicated surgery, I had to perform the next day. Suddenly I heard, perhaps in the most lyrical voice that I had ever heard, someone saying, “ is this seat taken?”
I looked up and what I saw completely took my breath away. I had had my share of crushes and affairs and had known some beautiful girls both in my profession and out of it, but now I was looking at the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She was a doctor, which was apparent from her apron, id card and the inevitable stethoscope. She was simple, fair, stunningly beautiful but without even a trace of makeup. Her long auburn hair were held tightly back into a pony tail. There was a simple smile on her face. I was staring at her crossing all limits of decency like I had never seen a girl before. She smiled again and asked slightly raising her eyebrows and voice, “excuse me… is this seat taken?”
“no.. no.. no… of course not” I stuttered and offered her the seat standing up. She sat down, smiling to herself, slightly blushing and that completely floored me.
She also took a liking towards me. We kept on chatting throughout that performance and even after that for an hour or so. I learned that she joined PGI 3 months back and was doing her MD in pediatrics (branch of medicine related to the care of children). We kept on meeting, though we worked at the same place yet we met rarely because of our different fields of studies and I being two years her senior. Still about 3 months after our first meeting I proposed to her and she accepted. We got engaged soon after and decided to get married after she completed her MD.
Like me she was a Punjabi. However her great grandmother was French. She (the great grandmother) came to India on sightseeing, fell in love with her great grandfather and stayed back. Her grand,other, mother and she were born in India. However she wanted to go to France sometime in her life to know her roots better and was learning French by joining weekly evening classes at Punjab University, which was just opposite to the PGI. Just to spend more time together I also joined those classes. Though it was just for two hours every Sunday afternoon, still I was happy to spend all that time with my love. By the end of the year I was quite fluent in reading and speaking French. I could also write it to some extent.
While I was living in hostel she was staying with her parents in Chandigarh itself. My father had retired and had moved to Australia with my mother. My brother was also there doing some networking job.
She cleared her first year and I completed my MS. I did exceptionally well during my course and got an invitation from the Royal College of Neurosurgeons London to do my super specialization (M.Ch.). We both decided that we will move to London after marriage and she will also try to do her M.Ch. there. But there were still two years left for her M.D. completion. I wrote back to the Royal College and expressed my inability to join immediately and said that I can join only after two years. They thankfully agreed and reserved a seat for me.
In the mean time I also got an offer from NIMHANS (National Institute of Mental Health and Neurosciences) Bangalore. They were paying me very good and it was also a chance for me to sharpen my skills before going for my M.Ch. in London. So we decided that I should move to Bangalore and fly back to Chandigarh after every three months for a week or so to spend time with her.
I joined NIMHANS. There I took a flat, in a building at walking distance from the hospital, which I shared with a colleague of mine. He was about two years older than me, had also done MS in neurosurgery and was working as a lecturer there. He was from a small village called Narpala in Andhra Pradesh some 250 KM from Bangalore. He was a good, affable chap and soon we became good friends. After every three months I took a week off and flew back to Chandigarh to spend time with my fiancée. A year passed and December of 2009 finally arrived.
That Sunday morning I was sleeping late as last night I had to perform an eight hour long surgery which had completely drained me. My flat partner had gone to his native place (that’s what they call it down south) as his grandmother was suddenly taken seriously ill. Suddenly I was woken up by the door bell. I looked at the watch it was 11:30 in the morning and wondered who it could be at that hour. I opened the door and found my partner standing there grinning from ear to ear. He came inside and said he was getting married on coming Saturday. He had to marry at such a short notice because his grandmother was very serious and had no hope of recovery and she wanted to see him married before she died. But as the girl was the daughter of their family friends, he knew her well. He also said that I will have to attend his marriage. I was happy for him and readily agreed.
While we were still making plans my phone rang. It was my fiancée. She sounded very excited and told me that her younger sister is getting engaged this Sunday and declared that I will have to attend that function come what may as every family member of hers wanted to meet me. I suddenly became speechless as there was no way I could miss any of these functions and also I couldn’t attend both of them. Still I said nothing to her and she cut the phone after the usual girly yak yak.
When I told my friend about the call in detail, both of us became very thoughtful. Neither of us wanted me to miss any of these occasions. After thinking for some time, he suddenly relaxed and said, “Look, I have a plan.”
I looked at him and he continued, “I wanted you to attend my marriage because I wanted you to meet my parents, relatives and other friends. But you can do that before my marriage as well. We will go to my place on Thursday, two days earlier than the marriage and we will meet all of them. On my actual marriage night you don’t have to stay to attend all the functions. There is a small town called Gooty about 50 KM from Narpala. At around 1:00 AM in the morning the Bangalore - New Delhi train halts there for about a minute. You can catch that train to reach Hyderabad. It will reach there at around 6 in the morning. From there you can catch the early morning flight to Delhi and then another flight to Chandigarh. This way you will be at Chandigarh around noon and can easily attend that engagement in the evening. So you stay with us till around midnight and then I will give you a car and a driver who will drop you at Gooty. To avoid any inconvenience we will book Bangalore to Hyderabad first AC ticket.”
It was fine with me. I also told this to my fiancée. Though she wanted me with her at least two days before that engagement but after hearing the whole story she reluctantly agreed. Next three days were very hectic. We booked my train ticket and both the flight tickets and did his marriage shopping. We also looked for another flat for him where he planned to move after marriage. I also met his fiancée, who had come there with her parents to do some shopping as well. She was a simple, dusky, cheerful and typical south Indian girl, dressed in a simple cotton sari. On Thursday we hired a cab and went to Narpala.
Everything went as planned. I spent two days at a south Indian village, eating all their authentic dishes, meeting people who were not from my part of the world and immensely enjoying myself. At around 11:00 pm on Saturday night, I took leave of my hosts, hugged my friend, did a bow with folded hands to his wife who was smiling brightly but wasn’t looking at me, muttered apologies to his parents and relatives and feeling really sad to leave all that gay atmosphere. It was a cold December night but the sky was very clear with moon and stars shining brightly.
I sat in the car and waved to everyone. The driver put it into the gear and we moved ahead. After about 15 minutes of driving suddenly the sky filled with black thunderous clouds. After another 15 minutes it started raining very heavily. Though I couldn’t see the road even 10 feet beyond us, but the driver kept his pace. He seemed to know the road like the back of his hand. It continued to rain heavily but when we were nearing the Gooty station it suddenly changed into a slight drizzle.
He stopped the car and I tipped him well which he accepted grinning. He apologized in broken Hindi for he couldn’t stay to see me boarding the train as he had to drop some other guest at some place. It was fine with me. He also told me that my train would come on the other platform and I would have to cross a foot bridge to get there.
I opened the door and exactly at 12:20AM on Sunday, the 20th December 2009 I set my foot on Gooty soil.
This was where I was destined to come.
CHAPTER THREE
The driver made a U-turn, stopped, looked out of the car window and smiled and waved at me. I too smiled and waved back. Suddenly I found that he wasn’t looking at me anymore but behind me and his smile was gradually fading, giving way to a look of terror on his face. I also looked behind me but didn’t find anything. He rolled up his window fast and ran out of there like a bat running out of hell. I stood there for some time staring at his tail lights which were fast disappearing into the dark. When I couldn’t see them anymore I turned back, shrugged mentally and started walking slowly towards the platform.
There was a small waiting hall type of building before the platform. It was painted in light yellow and white and had two huge arch gates. One gate was leading into it from the outside parking area and the other out of it to the platform. Above the gate the name “Gooty” was written in big bold black letters, against a bright yellow background, in three languages; Telugu, Hindi and English. A dim yellow light was coming from a lone bulb hung loosely by a wire over it. I entered that building and found what looked like a booking counter on the left side and a wall on the right side on which some Telugu film posters and some poster about Indian Railways were hung in dilapidated wooden frames.
Suddenly I didn’t like it anymore. I was getting a creepy sensation. The dim yellow light coming from a lone bulb hanging down from the ceiling was adding to the eerie atmosphere. There was no one in that building. The booking counter was empty too. Feeling a chill down my spine I entered the platform and turned right towards the crossover foot bridge. It was very cold and the slight drizzle was adding to the chill. I saw no one on both the platforms. I thought it might be because of the weather the passengers and the officials were hiding in some cozy corner as there were still some 40 minutes left for the scheduled arrival of the train.
I was wearing my brown leather jacket, a black turtleneck black pullover under it and blue jeans with sneakers. I had my essentials in a sling bag on my back. With my hands in my pockets and shoulders slightly drooping I started mounting the steps of the bridge. The tin roof over the steps gave a slight respite from the drizzle. All this setup was looking oddly familiar. As I was mounting those steps a strange feeling started growing inside me. I felt like this was not the first time I was there; I had been to this place before. I tried hard but could not remember when. I finally reached the bridge and turned left. After taking a few steps over the bridge I suddenly looked towards my left.
My heart missed a beat when I saw what I saw. I now knew exactly why all that seemed so oddly familiar. Though I had completely forgotten about it, it all came back to me in a jiffy. I realized to my shocked horror that I was looking at the same scene whose sketch was depicted in the book, I found many years back in my father’s personal library. The scene which once terrified me for many months, made me lose my sleep and my health was in front of me and what was even more terrifying was - now I was actually a part of that.
I started having trouble in breathing and my eyes started losing their focus. But somehow, with great difficulty, I pulled myself back together and decided to study the scene. The sketch in that book had completely come back to me. Though many years had passed since I last took a look at that but I remembered it as vividly as if I had seen it only a few hours back. I even remembered the distance between various lampposts on the two platforms and which one had a light on it and which one didn’t. The scene was exactly the same as that of the sketch. Two completely deserted platforms, same number of lampposts, at the same distances, benches, some refreshment booths, two sets of railway tracts beneath me and the conspicuous drizzle; were all there. The sketch was also drawn from where I was standing at that time. Even the railings of the bridge were exactly the same. As in the sketch I couldn’t see anyone anywhere on the station. I suddenly remembered the smoking man under a lamppost at the far corner of the right platform. I looked there and found him standing there in exactly in the same manner he was standing in that sketch; leisurely with his back against the lamppost, wearing a hat with the light falling on it, making it impossible to see what he looked like. There was a lighted cigarette in his mouth as well and the smoke was also making the same pattern as it was making in that sketch. Though the smoke was drifting from the cigarette and occasionally I could also see its glowing end, even from this distance, indicating that he was taking a puff, the man himself wasn’t moving at all.
All this was too perplexing. I was completely baffled and couldn’t make any head or tail of that situation. How could something like that happen to me? How could something like that happen to anybody? How a scene depicted in a book many years ago, and the book itself could be 50 or even more years old at that time, could be recreated so vividly in front of someone’s eyes. I suddenly remembered the title of that book as well and felt a chill down my spine once again. All sweat glands of my body emptied themselves at the same time; my hair, my palms, my soles, every inch of my body became drenched with sweat even on this chilly December night when I realized:
THE NAME OF THE TRAIN I WAS GOING TO BOARD WAS - NEW DELHI EXPRESS.
I stood there shaking for what seemed eternity to me. My brain gradually regained its composure but it was still unable to register these facts. I thought it might be just a dream or I must be hallucinating for what I was going through was simply not possible. It couldn’t be a dream because mostly boys or men have black and white dreams but what I was seeing was in full colour. Just to be sure I pricked myself hard but the scene didn’t vanish and it remained right there in front of my eyes. I was a doctor and that too concerned with neurology. I knew under certain special circumstances certain parts of our brain start behaving in a peculiar manner resulting in what we know as hallucinations. But these people have a history and many other problems as well like delusions, anxiety, nervousness etc. I had none of these. Still, just to give myself some shock I undid the metal buckle of my sling bag and pushed its needle almost quarter of an inch into the ball of my left thumb. Nothing happened except sharp piercing pain in my hand.
Could it be some ghostly affair? Could it be something involving spirits or reincarnation or something like that? Was I having glimpses of my last or next life or was I going to experience something supernatural? But I immediately dismissed all these thoughts from my mind and got angry at myself. Ghosts and spirits were supposed to be related to so-called human soul. During my carrier; I had cut and seen every square centimeter of human body but never found anything called soul. Nor was I taught about souls, ghosts and spirits. Life; as I had learned it, and I had learned it with scietific evidences backed by centuries of hard research and not from some baba sitting under a Peepal tree, was just a complex biochemical reaction; there was nothing before this reaction commences and there would be nothing after it stops. In my profession I treated and operated upon, and successfully at that, people who were suffering from so called ghostly affairs. And now I was attributing something I could not explain to ghosts and all, something all illiterate people did.
Then, I continued to think; could it be some set up, some prank or even some plot to kill me? I didn’t think even that was possible. I never told anyone about that book or that sketch. Until 10 minutes back I myself didn’t remember anything about them. How could anyone else know about it? There was only a remote possibility of my father or mother or even my brother finding out that I was afraid of that sketch by finding those stapled pages. But why would they want to kill me or pull a prank like this? We were a very close knit family; I loved them and they loved me. No; that simply wasn’t possible. I lead a normal life- no enmity, nothing with anyone. But even if it was a prank or some plot or anything; how was it possible to build something exactly like that sketch. It was not some small, ordinary building that anyone can make; it was a railway station built by government of India. Did I think the whole government is involved in this? Even if it was possible then how bringing me to that place possible? I came here by my own choice, nobody forced me.
“Okay”, I thought, letting my imagination run wild, “let us, for a moment think, that for some reasons someone wants to kill me or pull a prank on me; he or she somehow came to know that I was afraid of that sketch like anything and he or she gets everyone involved in it- my parents, my fiancée, my friend and the government of India-everyone. He or she was able to get the exact replica of that sketch built and also forced me to come to this place with the help of my friend and fiancée; but how that someone could have a drizzle in exactly the same manner shown there in that sketch?”
I felt my brain spinning. I was not getting anywhere and finding out anything about what was there before me. I thought I just could not stand there and board the train when it came. Before that I must find out what exactly was happening. Suddenly it seemed the most important thing to do in life to me. I could afford to miss that engagement, I could afford to miss everything in my life but, I thought, I could never afford not to have an explanation to those events. But how could I have that explanation? Whom could I contact? And suppose I called someone on phone, would I be able explain this whole affair and would he or she believe it? I was alone in that thing and I had to find the answer myself.
Suddenly I realized I was not alone; there was someone who was as much involved in that as me. And that someone was standing under a lamppost, smoking a cigarette just a few meters away from me.
I decided to go to that person and ask him about this whole affair. And I started moving feeling like tons of weight was attached to my legs. Slowly I reached at the other end of the bridge and started my descent, never taking my eyes off from that person. I was thinking what I would ask him and how would I start the conversation. I certainly couldn’t ask him that what he was doing in a real place exactly like a sketch shown in a book. I could ask him if the train was on time. No, that wouldn’t have done. I would have to look for some opening from where I could continue the conversation. He was smoking, I could ask for light. Though I wasn’t a compulsive smoker, I used to have only a cigarette or two in a week or so, still I carried a pack of Marlboro Lights with me whenever I travelled. Yes, I told myself, asking for light could be a great opening as smokers have some sort of brotherhood.
Inch by inch I moved closer to him. Now as the distance between us was less than 25 meters, I could see him clearly. He was about my height; wearing jeans, jacket and sneakers. Still I couldn’t see his face as the brim of his hat caused a shadow on his face.
I looked at my watch. It was exactly 12:31 AM. I was at this place for exactly 11 minutes and I was looking at this guy for about last 6 or 7 minutes now. I noticed one strange thing – he didn’t show any kind of movement for all that time. He didn’t even take out that cigarette from his mouth; people didn’t smoke by keeping the cigarette in their mouths for that long. Though the end of the cigarette glowed intermittently and the smoke drifted from it indicating that it was being smoked, still the glowing end of the cigarette was a little away from his face, which showed that a considerable portion of it is still left to be burned. Cigarettes are normally not that long.
I stopped when I was within three feet of him and said, “Excuse me, can I have light please?”
He moved, took out the cigarette from his mouth and threw it on the ground. I looked at the cigarette and it seemed as if it had just been lighted. I now looked at the face of that man. He had taken off his hat and I could now see him very clearly. He gave me a mysterious smile and said’ “hi”.
Though more than two and half years have passed since that incident and I now am leading almost a normal life, but that moment still haunts me in my dreams and I don’t think I would ever be able to forget it. Have you ever touched a live electric wire, how do u react then? My reaction when I looked at that man was more or less the same because – I KNEW THAT MAN.
His smile deepened and it became all so mysterious. I felt all the blood leaving my face; suddenly the ground beneath me seemed to give away and I felt myself falling into a bottomless pit. Darkness descended on me. Before my head could hit the concrete floor I felt myself being held into two strong arms and my only thoughts, before I lost all my consciousness, were, “How could this be possible? How could this man be here at this time?”
CHAPTER FOUR
“How long is he going to take doctor?” I heard someone speaking in a heavy voice as if from deep inside of a well.
“No idea, he has been hit heavily on the head and you can’t say anything for sure in such cases” another voice said. With that I heard someone sobbing as well.
“Too bad!!” I heard the heavy voice again, “I have to take the statement of this man.”
“Well, even if he regains his consciousness now, I can’t allow you to talk with him immediately.”
“Why don’t you understand doctor, there has been an attempt on the life of this man in front of my own eyes. I not only have to talk to him but will have to ensure as well that it is not repeated.”
“Will you please explain in detail officer, how you are so sure that it is a case of attempted murder and not some accident?” someone asked in a familiar feminine lyrical voice.
“I will tell you the whole thing again, madam. Last time when I told you, you were not in proper frame of mind. So to have a better idea I will tell all about it again”, that heavy, unmistakable cop, voice said, “As you know, Madam, he was travelling by New Delhi Express this Sunday. The train was late by about 5 hours, so instead of reaching Hyderabad at its usual time of 6:10 in the morning it was around 10:40 AM. At the outskirts of Hyderabad city the train tract takes almost a U-turn and there is a railway crossing there as well. I was coming from my morning patrol and sitting in the jeep with some constables. We were waiting for the train to pass. As it came I saw this man standing in the doorway of a compartment. As the train was making a U-turn we could see it clearly and for a longer period. It appeared as if he was fighting with someone, but we couldn’t see the other man or men. Suddenly he fell off the train as if he was pushed by someone. When he fell, his head hit the other railway tract with some force. Luckily there was also an ambulance in the traffic so we brought him here as fast as we could. From his sling bag we found his id card and cell phone, so we informed the last dialed number which was yours and you are here now.”
“He called me at around 5:30 AM on Sunday morning, but the connection wasn’t very good so I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I tried to call back but he had switched off.”
“Oh, okay I will do one thing I will put two constables on duty outside his room and as soon as he is fit enough to make a statement, please inform me immediately.”
“We will do that”
I heard heavy footsteps going away and felt myself moaning a bit. But I couldn’t open my eyes, darkness still hung all around me. I tried to make out whatever I heard, but I found straight thinking impossible as my brain felt as if it had been put through a meat mincer. There was a lot of pain in my left shoulder, hands, back and leg as well. I felt a soft comforting hand stroking my forehead slowly but still was unable to open my eyes. When I forcefully tried, I again felt myself falling into a bottom less pit.
I had lost all track of time and felt the darkness gradually giving way to bright white light. Then slowly things started coming into focus. I found myself in a hospital room. There was no pain in my head and only a slight pain in my body. I Looked around and found some girl was sitting on the visitors chair, reading some book. I cleared my throat; she immediately looked at me and came running towards the bed.
She was my fiancée. She looked a little pale and week with dark circles under her eyes. I smiled at her and said, “Hi”.
She looked at me strangely as if fighting her tears back and said, “Hi, how are you feeling.”
“Not so good, I replied, “Where am I?”
“You are in a Hyderabad hospital. You fell down from a moving train five days back and you have been unconscious ever since,” she said in a trembling voice.
“Oh”, I said, “I am sorry to have missed your sister’s engagement.”
“That didn’t happen. As soon as I got a call from that police officer, who saw you falling, I with my father and brother rushed here. Luckily your injuries were only superficial, there is no major damage; only a shock. Now I advise you to stay relaxed and not to put any pressure on your brain.”
“I am sorry to cause all that troubles to your family.”
“There is no problem. They are here even now and are staying in a hotel. I even gave a call to your parents. They are here too. They will be coming here soon. It is 4:00 in the morning. Even your flat partner in Bangalore was here. We sent him back yesterday”
I felt myself drifting to sleep again and when I woke up; it was day and my parents with her father and brother were all there. They asked me the usual questions you ask to someone who has been through an accident.
I stayed in that hospital for a week, trying to pick up the threads of my life but couldn’t succeed. I didn’t remember anything after I fell unconscious at Gooty station. My fiancée wasn’t at her usual self; she seemed far away in her looks and acts. Many times during my stay there I asked her about what was wrong with her but she said nothing and always avoided eye contact.
After I started feeling a little better my parents and her father went back and only she and her brother stayed. The police officer who saw me falling off, and whom I heard in a semi conscious state, came to take my statement for a couple of times but I couldn’t help him, as I didn’t remember anything. Even my newly married friend and a couple of them more from Bangalore came to enquire about my health.
After a week or so I moved back to my flat in Bangalore with my fiancée and her brother. After staying there for another week, when I was feeling considerably fit she sent her brother back but decided to stay with me for another week or until I was fully fit. Her brother was a bit reluctant to leave both of us alone but as we were already engaged; he left muttering to himself.
Two days after her brother left, it was Saturday, 9th of January 2010, in the evening when we were watching TV sitting on different settees and sipping coffee, she suddenly asked, “why did you make that phone call?”
“Which phone call?” I asked
“The day you fell down from the train, you called me in the morning. I sent my brother back because I wanted both of us alone when I ask you about that.”
_
“In my semiconscious state I heard you telling that police officer about that phone call but even after continuing thinking for all this time I cannot remember anything. In fact I don’t remember anything after 12:35 AM that morning. What I told you anyway?”
“Really, you don’t remember”, she looked strangely at me, “It was unmistakably you but there was a demonic touch in your voice, you were laughing hysterically and calling me and my family all sorts of names. I kept asking what was wrong but you never listened to me and continued your abuses without stopping. It was as if you were high on some sort of drug or were possessed. You called me a bitch, a whore and what not. You didn’t stop at that and started abusing my family. I was about to disconnect when you suddenly stopped. I could hear you sobbing slightly and then you said in a very meek and trembling voice that you were sorry, you were not good enough for me and asked me to forgive you. You also told me that you were going away somewhere forever and I will never see you again. You disconnected after that, I tried to call you but you had switched off”
“You sure it was me?”
“As sure as I am sitting here, but I was very worried about you when in the end you became all human”
“I really don’t remember and simply don’t understand why would I abuse?. I have never abused anyone in life and you will be the last person I will do that with.”
I could now understand the reason behind her strange behaviour. Suddenly I wanted to tell her everything and I did just that. Starting from the first time I found that book to my falling to unconsciousness at Gooty station, I told her everything in all its details. She sat there mesmerized listening to what I had to say. I wanted to get that weight of chest and by telling her all I succeeded in that.
“So that’s all. I lost my consciousness at around 12:35 AM at Gooty railway station and then the police inspector saw me falling down from the train at 10:40 AM but, however hard I try, I can’t remember anything about those 10 hours. You tell me that you received a call from me at around 5:30 AM; this means I was not unconscious for that whole time but I couldn’t remember calling you. Those 10 hours hold a key to this all. You must believe me, I am not lying but I just can’t remember them. They are simply missing from my life”
She got up and came near where I was sitting. I also stood up. For the first time after I came back to consciousness she was making an eye contact; all that love had come back in her eyes. Suddenly she hugged me; a full frontal hug. Though we were engaged for more than a year now; we hardly touched each other. Somehow this never happened. She never showed any interest and even I didn’t force her. We were happy just talking and listening to each other. Now the feeling of her small, supple breasts against me was something I never felt before. I started stroking her back and felt her bra strap against my fingers. Her intoxicating aroma was simply too much for me. I was ready to go through this ordeal all over again just to get another hug from her like that. We stood there for some time; I was feeling at the top of the world. She suddenly slipped away and sat back on the settee, hiding her face in her hands and slightly laughing. I also turned my back towards her to save her from any embarrassment.
“Listen”, she asked after sometime and I turned towards her, “who was that man?”
I told her and saw the blood immediately leaving her face; from red it became chalk white and a look of horror came on it.
