Moving Up

The train braked abruptly, like reality had been to me lately. We were passing my favourite part of the journey – the solitary mounts that stood against the misty sky – an hour before reaching Kovai. The heart sank to lower depths for the sight – as beautiful as it was – was not enjoyed along with her. She had gone away at ease, yet never left me.

The mounts seemed to mock-up my present. Irregular, solitary, the mist contributing the uncertainties, the occasional green patches that were hopes, the dark grey rocky skin that was the bitterness of my days. The world was a mockery. The train was one. This stoppage too.

My friends sat a few feet away, occupied themselves, but with sincere empathy for me, ready to be served should there be an outburst from me. Instead, I watched the mount, the slope of which began countable meters away from me, the peak of which was a rock that studded it like on a crown. How many times had she pointed out that mount to me, or maybe it was another one. She always did, while her palm rested over mine, the warmth in between of the thinned, stranded air comforting us both while I sat resting my head on the seat, enjoying the fragrance of her flaunting hair. I had never asked what the fragrance was. It always smelled like peppermint and I could revoke it in me anytime as I pleased. My palm sweated now unfamiliarly and my eyes watched the stalled mount with attention undivided.

Life had been crazy of late and fed me the same. I stood up inside the stationary train. The train started to move. More mockery.

“I will be there. Don’t fuss.” I told my friends unannounced. They took a moment to register my words, the exact moment in which I got off the train that was picking up speed, and ran. I chose not to hear the voices as I ran to Mount Life, as I now called it, leaving behind the train that brought me here, that assured me a destination. I ran. I had to get over; them, the reminiscences that haunted me like flies around a bright light.

The gradual slope at the bottom were our woes when together. Those fights seemed silly now against the ultimate one there ever was. They all went past willingly, as I lost speed when the green moulds were reached, fresh and untouched. They were the days before the togetherness, the days of stolen glances and smiles, the pacing up of heartbeats, the occasional skipping of it were all felt in the freshness that gusted out of the green. I turned to see the train – away and below – like a caterpillar inching off with indifference. My legs were slower now and I panted as the rocky lane greeted my eyes, with shrubs of various kinds on either sides. I edged ahead, remembering the years of her magical presence, the magical part of it that turned taken for granted. The drives, the fuming passion, the food, gifts and smiles. Whenever I struck chord with impulsive jokes she used to laugh out loud uncontrollably, disregarding who or what was around; something I always cautioned her then; something that seemed incredibly adorable now – I remembered dearly as sweat and tears competed to gain prominence on my outlook, ignorant that they looked the same. I quickened my pace. I had to get over. My legs complained and pleaded. Gasping for air, I had revisits of similar gasps when she kissed me deep, breathless. My cheeks were shivering now, the air was colder, my lungs worked frantically. The rock that peaked was close now where my liberation lay. The train could not be seen now and the mist below me was an amazing concealment, nevertheless its meek definition. The rock was as tall as a wall, one I could jump over with ease when at my normal self. The first attempt was a leap of hope which failed miserably, as the rock left strained marks on my arms, empathising my legs. I stood pressed to the rock, my palms set over it, and I wailed.

Minutes passed uncountable to my senses. Pressed against the hard rock I sensed the hollow life ahead, the one minus the mighty presence she had caved into mine. That she would never call me again, that I would never again hear her deep voice childishly pampering me, that….that I can never sense peppermint (I was sure now) off her hair as we walked morning and night by the shady trees on our way to office – were all blunt strikes at me that someone was teasingly making.

I strived with all the strength that had regrouped in me and pulled myself up. Colder air rushed into me like consolation as I stood up on the peak with weary, shaking legs; above my agonies, my past. The view was uncompromised for my likes. I stretched my hands wide, breathed the mist in, a sense of victory creeping in. I closed my eyes. The slideshow was over. She must have been, too. The sweat and tears had merged harmoniously into nothingness.

Like everyone does, reasons devoid, I shouted out. It was her name. The echoes never surfaced. My hands stretched wide, breathing hard now, I looked beside, to see her, in her best salwar, eyes lined aptly with kajal, her dark brown eyes on me.

She smiled.

Another train passed by, far below, in the opposite direction.