The first time I saw him was on the bus I took once every week. I
was in the ninth standard and took extra classes for Maths because
finding X was a lot of problems. And on my first day of class, I managed to catch the 4.55PM bus. The only empty seat was beside this boy
whose uniform was unfamiliar to me. What grabbed my immediate attention was the
book he was reading: “Doctors” by Eric Segal. It was my favourite. He noticed
me staring at the book cover absent-mindedly once or twice while I pretended to look
away, and he cleared his throat and resumed reading. For the whole thirty
minutes of the journey, I was gathering the courage to ask him his favourite part, but failed at it. I cursed myself for being the introvert that I am, grabbed
my bag and walked to the door. Turning back one last time, I could see he was
engrossed in reading. Every time I boarded that bus, he seemed to be in the same seat, in the same school uniform, either listening to music on his headphones or reading a book. He barely looked up, and I thanked God for it. Because if he did, he could have judged me for staring at his books for too long as I stood or sat a few feet away. I never got the seat beside his. We never talked.
It wasn’t until I was home one of those days that I realised that I had lost my school ID. I couldn’t seem to find where I put it
last. It was always in my bag. Nevertheless, I applied for a new one. In a few days, I forgot about it. One day, as I walked out of the gates of the school
building, the now familiar uniform grabbed my attention. My eyes widened. I had
seen him many times by now, on the same bus; every day, for a brief moment in the ride, our
eyes did meet, and we looked away awkwardly. But what was he doing here? I tried to
be calm and expressionless as I walked past him, reminding myself that I
wasn’t the only person who studied there. He could very well be here as a
friend. He doesn't know me, and neither do I.
“Excuse me.” That was the first time I
heard his voice, calm, clear and a little unsure. “You. Excuse me.” He had
walked up to me by then, as I stopped and turned.
“Yes?” I tried to sound like I didn’t recognise him and failed miserably.
“You... I tried to talk to you on the bus
but...” He was searching his bag for something. “Here. You left it in your
seat.” He pulled out my lost ID card. I heaved a sigh of relief. Not a
scary stalker after all.
“Thank you,” I said in genuine
appreciation. “You came all the way here for this, I appreciate it....”
“I actually tried to talk to you a couple
of times to give this back.” He sounded a little embarrassed “I guess being an
introvert is a curse.” That made me smile.
“I totally understand.” I nodded. “So, how
can I thank you?”
“Oh no, no Ajabdeh, you need not.” He shook
his head.
“Wait... how do you know my name?” The
hint of shock in my voice was evident.
“That... umm... it’s... in the ID?” he said
matter-of-factly.
I was immediately embarrassed “Oh yes, yes.”
“Don’t worry, I'm not a crazy stalker.” He
shrugged.
A moment of silence passed by as the cars honked past us.
“I should go.” He turned to leave.
“Hey, wait!” He stopped and turned at my
words. “Umm... how about I treat you to Burgers? To thank you?”
“Oh, you need not!” He dismissed the idea.
“I insist.” I stepped carefully towards
him “There is a McD right at the turn of this road. Let’s go.”
“Okay.” He agreed, “But you really
don’t have to...”
“What’s your name?” I asked as we walked
side by side towards the outlet.
“Umm... Pratap... Pratap Singh Sisodia.” He
smiled. “I study at DVS”
“That’s almost half the city away!” I
stopped, astonished, “You came all the way here too...”
“Please, this is midway between my home and
school. It wasn’t a problem at all.” He smiled sheepishly.
“You could courier it to the given
address,” I said matter-of-factly, pushing the door open and finding a place.
“And miss a chance to have a McD meal for
free?” He sounded amused. I laughed.
“You have a point there.” I walked away to
place the orders.
When I came back with a tray of burgers,
fries and Coke, he was reading the book I saw him reading on the bus a few days earlier.
“This is one of my favourite novels, by the way,” I
said, placing down the tray.
“Huh?” he seemed lost as he looked up.
“This.” I pointed. It was Man, Woman & Child by Eric Segal.
“Ohh.” He smiled, “That’s why you keep staring at me on the bus!” I turned a little red at his words while he looked
away, a little embarrassed and then took his fries.
“So, where do you stay?” I asked, trying to
end the silence.
“Till today, uptown.” He smiled a little.
“What do you mean by till today?” I
frowned.
“I am moving to Delhi tomorrow. It was my
last day at school today and in this city.” He sighed. “My dad has a
transferable job. I barely have a city called home, or friends... It keeps
changing...”
“Come on.” I got up and packed my bags.
“Where?” he frowned. “You need to go so
soon?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Let’s make this
city worth remembering for you.” He smiled at my words. We grabbed our burgers
and walked out to the streets.
Through our long walk, we talked about the
novel, its characters, our favourite parts and the most hated ones. I had stopped
at the roadside food stall.
“The first thing you relate to a city is
its food,” I said, pointing at the small menu card with plenty of spelling
mistakes. “So let’s start with the street food.”
After three plates of chaat and plenty of
laughter over it being spicy, we walked to the riverfront. Sitting on the
steps and watching the sun set, he smiled.
“You were right. I will remember this city
and the last day here.” He said as I smiled at him.
“And you.” He added before looking away at
the sunset. That was the first time I noticed his eyes were brown. Almost like
the autumn leaves around us.
