Spending with me for sometime became an issue to my sister Kavya Mayuri. I was very busy watching films,
writing stories and recollecting dreams. At last I could keep those two days for her after months of planning. We boarded Sanjeevani Express at Saalagrama Nehrouli by 6:00 p.m. for Sahyadri Nirvana. It was a 12-hour journey through night with a limited halts. We could not get berths side by side. When I was enjoying myself watching the beautiful scenery passing by me sitting by the window, my sister came to me hurriedly and said, "Fellow, an angel is there just opposite my berth. All around her are old
women and small children. I found that she is traveling alone. Go and celebrate your life there. I know your cursed background in matters of girls. It is an extraordinary opportunity..." I rushed to the seat and sat calmly. I spent one hour only looking at her from the edge of my
book in the hands. She was a tall damsel clad in white Punjabi dress. Ramba, Maneka and the likes of the heaven commit suicides out of uncontrollable jealosy and self-pity if they see her face for five seconds on the orders of Indra. I can spend ten years in darkness if she is with me. Her face is a moon and her color is synonym to twilight. I regretted not having a thousand eyes to shoot her perfectly. I sensed that she detected my
secret looks at her. I spent two more hours doing all the kinds of disciplined monkey acts signaling her that I consider her a star of
beauty stuffed with a ton of quality. She was enjoying the scene remaining neutral and my levels of patience were dropping like blood pressure in the
body of an old man on deathbed. She was casting tantalizing looks at me once for ten minutes or so. The passive entities around us understood our mutual struggle to face each other. They intentionally neglected us completely. It was around 11:30 p.m. and everybody was in a flat position enjoying the sleepy journey. She was yawning hinting me that she was at the entrance gate of the palace of sleep. The train was slowing nearing a halt ahead. I acted like a lightning. Brought the tin of mango pickle from the bag of my sister, who was already asleep. Kept it on the upper berth and tensely waited for the train to stop with a jolt. By the grace of God, my plan worked out like magic. All the pickle and the red
oil fell on her like rain on a helpless old
woman in the open. She threw a ferocious glance at me and I looked other ways to escape from her fierce arrow. I could dare look at her face after ten minutes. Self-pity and helplessness were fighting in the paradise of her bewitching face. I felt as if my fate and serendipity were hastening on my side to combat with their opponents in her mind. She started looking kindly at me and added loving smiles soon. It was around 12:00. The midnight was blest, I felt. She stretched her right hand like a
child and I held it like an innocent and childlike romantic. I took her toward the toilet. She told me at a low voice, "Just because I was not enough kind with you, you have changed the scheme immediately. I have never seen a crazy chap like you before. Did you like me that madly? I don't think you had your supper this evening. I was before you no! You were chewing me with your eyes and you must feel heavy by now. I am going to my friend's
house in Sehranpur. I am not carrying even a piece of
clothing with me because our sizes are the same and I wear her
dresses during these few days of stay. I like this white set very much and you disfigured it badly. I can throw it out if I had one to wear but see the plight. How can I show my face to others in this dress? You silly criminal! I am only
daughter to my rich parents. I studied criminal psychology but never experienced it in person. You fulfilled that dream this night. You stole my
heart with your monkey mentality and donkey perseverance. Your poor sister must be sleeping there dreaming that her good brother is resting well beside a bell. I don't know how to wash my
body because my possessive mother never allowed me to move my hands on my statue of divinity and royalty with the soaps of roughness. I should feel ashamed of myself to say these words at the
age of
24 with a male. My mother often tells me that my
husband attends the duty of my bath after marriage. See how visionary and proud she is about my beauty. She gave it to me. Who am I to question her? I cannot tolerate a
male creature looking into my eyes bathing me considering me an infant. Let's do one thing. Blindfold yourself tightly and bathe me in the toilet. I hope I can bear that torture. Remember that I should not smell even a bit of that
oil on my
body after the bath. You can take as much time as you like. I don't mind even if you empty the whole tank in the process. First get me a pair of
clothes from your bag. I would throw away those stained
clothes after the water treatment. I think it is the best option left to me to avenge you. Don't make noise. If somebody wakes up before we go in, it turns out a public show in the coach". I struggled to remember if there was any word in English to mean a thousand times higher than bliss and paradise. First I cleaned the toilet for ten minutes splashing the water all the sides using all my energy that remained workless for many years. Took her hand into mine and led her inside like a servant does with his master. The toilet was a palace for me for those few minutes. She blindfolded my eyes tightly with my big white handkerchief. I felt as if a five-year-old kid was setting a rag on my eyes to protect herself from my gluttony looks. I thanked
God for creating her so beautifully externally with kilos of innocence and softness inwardly. She gave me two Dove soaps. I washed her for four hours restlessly and finished the two soaps. The toilet was filled with the fragrance of the soap. The tank above our heads was emptied completely. She died a million times witnessing my plight in the blindfold and I a billion times feeling the hell due to my blinded eyes. I understood why Little Krishna liked butter in His childhood and bees hunt for honey in the deep forests. I tasted both during these few minutes with my sixth sense. She undid the dressing on my eyes of suffering after wearing my white trousers and dark blue shirt. I liked to die in her hands and ask her to throw my dead
body into wilderness from the
running train. My hands that worshipped an epitome of celestial
beauty for sometime should not touch any other inferior stuff afterwards. She cannot withstand a good boy dying in her hands in that setting of the train. Consoled myself and opened the door. I too moved out after ten minutes. It was around 5:00 a.m. and still thickly dark outside. I saluted the naughty sun for sleeping extra that morning. I brought her reddened
clothes with me secretly avoiding the notice of my innocent sister. A devotee of stately
beauty like me should not request a goddess of beauty, sensitivity and magnanimity to
love me or marry me. There are thousands of angels in India. Their goodness and softness should not be hurt by my selfish desires and cruel demands. She may keep my
clothes with her as a token of a memorable event in her life. This is just my dream about the attitude of a dream girl like her. We got off by 6:00 a.m. at our station. I did not even look at her when the train was distancing from my sight. I did not like to cry before my sister who knew nothing about the grand episode that night. After eight years one of my
friends in the UK told me that he bought an antique pair of
clothes for ten million sterling pounds from a rich
woman and her husband. He also told me that her name is Kailasini Devanshi Himum. I thought that she might be that girl I saw in Sanjeevani Express. I ran to the railway authorities and begged them to tell me where that train is
running presently. I was shocked to hear that it was burnt into ashes by rioters in a north Indian state sometime ago. I cried for many days recollecting the loss of earthly heaven that carried a divine being for some hours in her lap. History never pities jokers like me. May
God bless Kailasini wherever she is! She is a classic
art piece for me. What about you?!
