Another World Maybe

Anchit Som
3 min readJan 1, 2019

--

It was usually a 2 minute walk from the taxi pick up to my house but somehow it took longer today. I bid adieu by closing the door of the white WagonR DL 3C 2197, and as I did, I didn’t dare look into her eyes. I couldn’t dare to look back as I walked away from the taxi. The engine started behind me, though it was a noisy road, horns blaring, but I could distinctly hear the engine start. Even though eyes refused to see her go, my ears decided to hear her whizz away to the traffic signal. I stopped then, thinking about running to the traffic lights and hugging her goodbye one last time. But no last time suffices for how much I was going to feel her absence in my life. I said Goodbye Delhi, and moved on to my long sulking walk home. I possibly could not imagine Delhi without her and her comments on everything. Market no. 1 had no meaning when she didn’t badmouth Bengalis and their food habits, the street lights didn’t make sense without her discussing about converting them to disco lights. All the people around were just bodies with little life, without her judging their habits and clothing, even my fucking shoes didn’t make sense without her mentioning how I got ripped off on the price. It was a really long walk that I was trying to avoid all this time.

The taxi was taking a lot of time to arrive, it was freezing cold and she had kept her hand in my pocket. Slowly I moved my hand to the pocket as well, and I lightly touched her colder hand. She felt my warmer hand, smiled at me and grabbed my hand trying to extract all the warmth that she could. She then pinched me lightly to tease me and I conceded because that naughty smile was my means of warmth 3000 miles away. I didn’t want the taxi to arrive, I really didn’t want the taxi driver Manoj Singh to discover CR Park. CR park belonged to us today, and nobody had the right to take her away from me. I looked into her eyes and hated how constant they were. They were the same eyes I saw 6 years back when I was courting her from the back bench into liking me, the same eyes I saw when she was in love with another, the same eyes when she had her head on my chest and hands grasping me tight. Her eyes hinted that she wanted me to stay, that’s when I realized her eyes were myriad enough to make me weak and strong at the same time. The taxi driver called to say he had arrived and I could’ve crushed my Rs. 20,000 phone to not hear that news. She walked hurriedly towards the taxi as it was dark and she was getting late while my walking pace matched with my wish for time to slow down. As she reached for the taxi door, I pulled her towards me for one last hug, a futile attempt to stop time. It was short, very friendly and incomplete. But I didn’t blame her, nor could I blame myself. Life and reality hit us up making us realize that our paths were never going to cross. We were trying to build temporary bridges between two roads that might grow further apart with time and distance.

I was scared if the bridges would collapse, I was really scared if one of us let go of the pillars. And what if we have to build even longer bridges. I don’t know if we could. I dontI received a message from her with a picture of us with the caption “I love you too Bangali”. In a moment, I could hear the horns, feel my feet, notice the streetlights, time started running normally. My walk home became usual and everything fell to its place. I could not see her or the WagonR DL 3C 2197 but I could still feel her tingling cold hand touching mine and her beautiful eyes looking at a picture of us. I could see her smile at the joke I sent her, which the Korean guy told me during Lunch at the Admiralty Harbour.

Funny how a 2 min walk in our world felt long, it’s just six hours of flight time in the real world.

--

--