A ticket to an Unexpected Destination

Written By – R. Roy

The rhythmic chug of the train filled the early morning air as I stepped onto the platform of Howrah Junction. The cool breeze carried the scent of freshly brewed chai and newspaper ink. With minimal baggage—a single suitcase and a handbag—I swiftly found my seat, placing my luggage securely beneath it.

Just as the train let out a long whistle, signaling its impending departure, a woman rushed into the compartment, dragging what seemed like half her household with her. The other passengers groaned audibly, some muttering about the inconvenience of her excessive baggage. The scene quickly escalated into a heated argument.

I observed for a moment, debating whether to intervene. Finally, deciding that the squabble was unnecessary, I stood up. “Let me help,” I said, my voice calm yet firm. I shifted my suitcase and adjusted a few bags, creating just enough space for her luggage.

The woman turned to me, her chestnut-colored hair tumbling over her shoulder. It was unusually thick and glossy, almost like a wig. “Thank you,” she said breathlessly, pushing a stray lock behind her ear as she settled into the seat across from mine.

“No worries,” I replied, offering a small smile.

We sat in silence for a while, the train rolling steadily through the outskirts of Kolkata. Then, as if remembering something, she turned to me. “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Ravika, and I’m  traveling to Pune.”

I smiled again. “Nice to meet you, Ravika. I’m Radhika, also traveling to Pune.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and she let out a soft chuckle. “Well, isn’t that funny? Our names are so similar.”

“It is,” I agreed. “Looks like we’ll be spending this long journey together.”

She sighed dramatically. “To be honest, I’m not really a train person. I prefer flights, but this time, I had no choice.”

“I don’t mind train journeys,” I said. “There’s something calming about them.”

Something about her seemed oddly familiar, but I couldn’t quite place where I had seen her before. Maybe she reminded me of someone from the past? I shook off the thought and focused on the conversation.

“So,” she asked, stretching her legs slightly, “what’s taking you to Pune?”

“My son studies there,” I replied. “This weekend is his birthday, so I’m going to give him a surprise.”

Her lips curved into a warm smile. “Oh, how lovely! Please convey my best wishes to him.”

“I will,” I said. “What about you?”

“The same. My daughter studies in Pune. She’s not been well lately, so I thought of paying her a visit.”

“Oh!” I said, a note of concern in my voice. “I hope she recovers soon.”

“Thank you,” she said, her eyes softening.

We started conversing about the weather, then about politics, then social issues, and then the conversation started getting more and more personal. Without realizing, we began talking about our families. She told me that she was married and that her husband was nine years older than her. She had three children—two daughters and a son. The age difference amused me, not in a bad way, but out of curiosity. This led to our next topic—marriage and how we had met our husbands.

I told her that I met my husband in college; he was three years senior to me. He fell in love with me within a few months of our interaction. However, I took my time, and it was only after more than a year that I finally said yes.

This made Ravika anxious. “Did you really marry the first man you ever dated?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“Yes,” I said, smiling at the memory.

She was amused that I had only one man in my life. “Tell me more,” she insisted. “What about your husband? Did he have someone in his life before he met you?”

I confidently replied, “No, he didn’t.”

This amused her even more. “Tell me more about your love story,” she urged. Her interest took me back to the past. I told her about how it all started and how much we were still in love with each other even after twenty-five years of togetherness. We, too, had three children—a girl and two boys. I also told her that my husband had never been in a relationship before me, and this was something we seldom discussed. “How do people move from one relationship to another? Doesn’t it bother them?” I wondered aloud.

To this, Ravika replied, “You know, Radhika, it’s very difficult to forget your first love.”

I looked at her curiously.

“Before I married my husband, I was in a relationship with a boy. He was one year older than me. We were in the same school. He was the one who proposed, and I also liked him. We were truly in love. But we were young and still in school. Our relationship lasted until higher secondary. The time I spent with him remains the best time of my life.”

This led to my next question. “Have you ever told your husband about your past?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “As a matter of fact, my father got me married as soon as he discovered my relationship. He sent me away to a different city to my relatives’ house for further studies and married me off. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to him. I told my husband about it. Though he took it openly, sometimes I do think that it bothers him.”

“It’s good that you didn’t hide this from your husband,” I said. “Marriage is all about trust and understanding.”

I felt blessed in a way and couldn’t help smiling, thinking of my husband. “You know, my husband and I never keep secrets from each other. More than a couple, we are best friends. We truly consider ourselves lucky to have each other in our lives.”

“Yes, you truly are lucky,” Ravika agreed. She sighed. “I have a confession to make.”

I was taken by surprise. “What confession?” I asked.

“For quite some time now, I have been thinking of my first love very often. I need closure.”

I was confused. “Closure?”

“The way I left him was not acceptable. He did not deserve it. He was hurt. Just after I left him, he started dating another girl and married her. All of us think that it was a revenge marriage. He didn’t take my disappearance very well. I think he deserves closure.”

I nodded. “If something bothers us, then we must take action so that it doesn’t bother us anymore.”

She looked surprised. “Do you really think I should call him?”

“Why not?” I replied.

The train was stationed at Manmad. The attendant announced that there was a major technical fault and the train would halt there for a few hours.

“Perfect,” said Ravika. “No connectivity issues. I can call him now.”

She dialed. I heard her say, “It’s me, Ravika.”

Then she switched to a video call. The moment I heard his voice, my heart stopped. It was familiar. Too familiar. I looked up, and my world shattered. It was my husband.

This journey would soon end, but I realized I had a long road ahead to travel.