Ting-a-ling of the anklets

                                              Ting-a-ling of the anklets

I flipped through the pages of almost a decade old but still newly bound Arvind Adiga's White Tiger, trying to be a little suave but actually killing the endless time at hand. The aroma of freshly fried samosas, hot brewing tea, early morning mist in the air and the in-numerous flowers that the little girl, dressed in a pink frock, was carrying entangled with the sweat of hundreds of passengers waiting to catch their trains and the coolies pulling the luggage. 

Suddenly, in the hustling chaos, I heard a voice. It crackled through the noises of the moving boogies and crying children. As it came closer, I felt a little perturbed. There was an evident uneasiness. My hands trembled and I started sweating profusely. I hurriedly left the book at the store and ran towards the voice. But the sound became feeble and left me gasping for not just my breath but my peace of mind.

Whole world seemed to be crumbling before me and tears trickled down my eyes like water gushing out a flooded dam. That melodious ting-a-ling sound of the anklets, reminded me of her fond memories. How we sat together at the same railway station last year waiting to board the train to Jaipur to celebrate our first marriage anniversary.  How she caressed through my unkempt hair wiping the in-evident sweat with her bright red duppata.  How we nudged each other, sang romantic songs, cracked jokes and laughed together while enjoying her favorite chocolate brownie. 

Humongous crowd boarded and deboarded the train, while we happily enjoyed the long arduous journey before our second honeymoon. With 20 minutes to go, I got ready to board the palace on wheels with my princess. While hopping the platforms to catch our train, her anklets filled the air with pleasing music. 

Ouch! Help, she cried suddenly. I turned around and was aghast to see her slip onto the railway track. I threw the luggage and the half eaten brownie, to pull her back. We shouted for help, but, at 4 am in morning our voices shriveled in the dark night. As, I mustered the strength and put all my effort to pull her back on the platform, a unnerving sound of an engine came blazingly fast towards us. She being visually challenged and deaf couldn't even feel the roaring death striking her at the lightening speed. I froze with the fear of losing her. Slowly and gradually, her hands slipped from mine; leaving behind just a red bangle and a charred body for me to cry.