Caranzol Station

Late at 1 o’clock on a cold, frosty night, the gust of wind, bearing melancholic whispers of the deserted train station, faded into silence, as it heard a lady humming some abstruse melody. Perched upon a bench near the platform with her fancy luggage nestled between her legs, she immersed herself in music flowing through her headphones. Clad in a pristine white sweater, adorned with an ebony thread that wove her name into its fabric, it proudly proclaimed, “Kashvi.” Time stretched languidly as she awaited her train, scheduled to arrive at 3 am. Immersed in music and captivated by the pages of her mobile library, she sought solace.

Yet, an inexplicable unease gnawed at her, as if unseen eyes were fixed upon her. She turned swiftly, her senses on high alert. Against the worn station walls, two men of middle-age leaned, ogling her in a prurient manner. She attempted to retreat into her own world with a pretense of indifference, yet their gaze persisted, unsettling her in the desolation of the station. Concern creased her brow, and she feigned a conversation on phone with her relatives. And then, in the midst of her unease, she saw him – an enigmatic figure standing amidst the station lights, his visage veiled but his silhouette unmistakable.

With a cigarette poised between his lips, he walked towards an empty bench, dressed immaculately in a crisp white shirt and tailored black trousers that traced the contours of his form. A true gentleman, he appeared. Drawn toward him, she approached, seeking refuge by his side. And as if in response to her presence, the lewd men departed, relieving her of their unwelcome presence. Feeling safe, she settled on the bench next to the man. Leaning on the bench, resting her legs upon her luggage trolley, she continued to shuffle through her music. With eyes closed, she hummed one of her favorite songs.

Lost in her reverie, the music coursing through her veins, she felt a tender touch on her arm resting upon the bench. Her eyes fluttered open, and found the man standing next to her. In an impetuous manner, she removed her headphones and sat up. Utterly stunned, she murmured, “Sameer.”

The man, his face adorned with stubble and shadows of sleepless nights, exuded a wise look through his eyes that were accompanied by grief. As esoteric as he may seem, he had a charming smile.

“Do you have some water to drink?” his voice, husky and suiting his masculine allure, echoed through her being.

Every word he uttered plunged her into a sea of oblivion. Taking a deep breath, she took the bottle out of her bag, her gaze locked with his.

“Thank you, Kashvi,” he uttered, each syllable laced with a poignant pause.

After nine years, two months, and seventeen days, by some quirk of fate, they met again.

Deep within, he had always known this day would come — a day he yearned for, a day he patiently awaited. They were once in love. He still is. Not with the woman before him, but with the collage of memories he made with her. As profound as he had imagined this moment, he dared not articulate its intensity; rather, he mocked it with humor.

“How have you been?” she inquired, her mind still grappling with the reality of their reunion.

“I am fine,” he replied in a flat tone.

“Come, take a seat here.” She moved her bags aside, clearing the bench for him. Gracefully, he sat down, crossing his legs with an air of elegance.

“Where are you headed?”

“Panaji,” he answered, his tone calm and measured.

“Oh! What brings you here to Caranzol? It doesn’t seem like a leisurely outing,”, her curiosity piqued.

“I’m here to meet an old friend. I had an office meeting in Goa, so I thought I’d drop by his house here.”

He refrained from engaging in further conversation, offering only curt responses.

“Where do you work?” she ventured, knowing his passion for computers and his remarkable expertise.

“I own an AI company, building AI solutions for my clients.”

She had always known he would find success and realize his dreams. Her mind was teemed with questions, thoughts swirling in tempest of emotions. Is he married? Does he have a girlfriend? Is he happy?

But most importantly, she felt an unstoppable urge to know if he had kept his promise. There was a concoction of emotions, thoughts, and feelings that were too evocative to manage. In the distance, they heard the deep echoing whistle of the train. He stepped forward to observe its arrival, clutching his laptop bag tightly.

He stepped onto the train, put his bag on his seat, and came out to bid her a fleeting farewell. Within a few minutes, the train would depart, leaving them with mere moments to either embrace or erase their connection forever.

“Do you still love me, Sameer?” she finally mustered the courage to ask, her voice trembling, her breath held captive within her chest.

He averted his gaze, turned his back towards her, and apprehensively took out his cigarette, placing it between his lips. She caught the faint rasp of a lighter flickering repeatedly, calling out to him with an abundance of love, and with the weight of memories that danced madly within her soul.

“Sameer.”

His name escaped her lips as tears cascaded down her cheeks. In response, he turned towards her, exhaling a stream of smoke into the air. The wisps of smoke obscured the space between them, and for the first time, she felt no distance separating their beings. The difference between the two was, he never measured distance by space.

She looked at him as the smoke dissipated into the air. Not a word from him. Flicking away the cigarette butt, he took one final drag before dropping it. He looked down while twisting foot with fervor to extinguish the ember, as if attempting to quell the raging turmoil within.

He could not bear to see the tears that welled in her eyes, for they encapsulated every sleepless night he had endured. She knew he kept his promise. Choked up with tears, she asked,

“After all this time?”

“Always.”

Without uttering another word, he departed abruptly, leaving behind no gestures, only an echo of their past.

x————————The End————————x

PS: I’m sure that Harry Potter series has etched its magic into the depths of our souls. I hope Potterheads will excuse me for finding whispers of my muse, which trace back to the profound love between Severus Snape and Lily Potter. I hope you’ve enjoyed my humble tribute to Snape’s enduring love, which serves as a reminder that love, even when left unfulfilled or untold, possesses the power to transcend boundaries of time, and shapes destinies in unimaginable ways.