A night at the VT

Just been bullying the world these busy days. And the best and strangest part was getting three diaries. Guess people see me as someone interested in writing. But you don’t want to know about me, I know, so let’s skip that and turn to a story I heard from a friend.

“I had gone Mumbai for the NDA exam.” says Abhi, “Yeah?” I replied. “That was fun, that was.” “All my friends took some rooms or lodges but I did not.” He added reading my questioning face, “I wanted to go places” I laughed- “And I’m sure you did!” hearing that, he was transported to some other level, seemed it was Mumbai all again in his mind. “I’d gone to Marine drive…” his expression that of a clownish oblivion. I couldn’t help but imagine the guy did have his day- The Marine Drive, after all, was and is, a darling to all who can embrace its beauty. The fantasy went on, my imagination went wild- a teenage boy at the sea shore, from twilight through midnight, all alone, as a newborn. I guess you’re a newborn every single day.

So, Abhi then continues with the star-strewn sky and the dark waves, the rushing winds and the nightly sounds of the city and the sea. I admit being envious. “So then…” says he, still in a trance, “At midnight, when I was at the CST–” Here, I was to interrupt him, “What? At VT at midnight?! Why?” “‘cos I wanted to!” which reminded me again that people other than me too wanted to do things.came up“So, there I am, sitting on a bench, looking at the tracks and here and there, in general” to which I said, “You talk like a drunk…” “No, wait, that still has to happen- you listen the story, you don’t spoil it!” “OK, continue, its your story after all!” “Yeah, so…where were we– yes, I am sitting there, and then comes a constable and tells me to get off” “Why?” “C’mon! I didn’t have a platform ticket, I didn’t have anything to do either. I was just there.” I said, “So, then?” And now the man’s all incredulous and wavy- “Then someone else comes up to me- some older guy, 28-30 maybe and tells me to get going” “And did you go with him?” “Of course I did.” “All alone with a stranger, past midnight? Are you freakin’ mad?!” “So what? That was a nice chap– we went on, ate some chicken, that was very good, he new his things… And yeah, some beer too” “Seriously, you drank, I mean, you were in twelfth standard, right?” He just stared at me. It felt like I was just a kid. “Anyway, so, who was he?” “Oh! Yeah, he’s was an engineer, some IT guy” “And he told me to enjoy everything in life but not to compromise studies…”

“…And yes, that reminds me, I forgot telling you the thing!” I could see it coming in his eyes, and now surprisingly, I was to feel something else, something strange. “That’s why he took me out of the station!” “It’s time they came- the prostitutes!” “What?!” I blurted, “Yeah! I saw them! I even heard a two-hundred-rupee rate!” That turned my stomach, but I didn’t express that, instead I professed, like someĀ Raju Guide, “That happens, man…It is reality and this is what happens out there, not to be so surprised about…” So hollow my words.

The thing is, hearing that from a younger kid makes the kid inside me much uncomfortable and rekindles the sense of knowing how less I have known or experienced. And teaches me how the dwellings of humans go about.



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