The True Colour of Bookmanship

I opened the book as soon as I got a seat on the train. I was eager to resume Preeti Shenoy's beautiful novel 'A Hundred Little Flames.' The narration is brilliant, and the story is so convincing that whenever you close it, you feel like beginning again from where you have stopped. The surroundings look similar as the plot was developed around a remote village in central Kerala, with most of the characters a Keralite must have seen daily; this is something that attached me to the book.

I bent down to pick up the bookmark, which dropped from the book due to my carelessness. Suddenly, my smartphone fell from my pocket and made a heavy sound when it hit the floor, which attracted the attention of all nearby passengers. A few looked at me, wondering why I was so eager to pick a piece of printed card from the floor; only a book lover knows the worth of a bookmark. I kept the bookmark safely in my shirt's pocket and glanced at the faces around me. Some returned to what they were doing, some were unaware, and a few looked at me with sympathy. I scanned their faces one last time before I began reading.

A pair of beautiful eyes were watching me, which was neither sarcastic nor sympathetic. The owner of the eyes, a lovely young lady, was standing a few feet away since there were no vacant seats nearby. The eyes were unbelievably beautiful, and the book became secondary to me afterward.

A surgical mask decorated the space underneath the beautiful eyes. A gift from the pandemic, behind which we look gorgeous to all who look at our faces. This must be an act of God to remind us that we are all equally attractive to his eyes, and equality must be ensured, even in beauty, for a few years at least. I presumed the face behind the mask was as beautiful as the eyes.

We looked in other directions for a few seconds, but again, our eyes met accidentally or deliberately. She wore a white churidar, a black sleeveless coat over it, and had neatly dressed her ponytail hair. It was clear that she was a lawyer. My sense of reality warned me not to look at her again; even staring at a woman for a few seconds may result in a lawsuit. Especially for a female lawyer, things will be easy, but my heart wanted to ignore the warnings. Sometimes, you follow your foolish heart rather than your clever brain.

Suddenly, I noticed a bandage on her left ankle, and she seemed to be searching for a vacant seat. The train was getting crowded after each stop; the probability of getting a seat was minimal. She noticed when I looked at her bandaged legs again, and our eyes met; I signaled her to occupy my seat. 

I would get down after two stations, and offering her a seat was not a big deal then. She looked at me in disbelief, and I had to signal her again. With a smile full of gratitude, she limped towards me and settled down in the seat, and to my surprise, she offered to hold my bag, which was a relief in the excessively crowded train.

The book you are reading is terrific. 

Pardon me. I had heard the words but wanted to confirm what she had said.

'A Hundred Little Flames,’ the book you were reading, is excellent. She pointed to my bag in her lap.

Ah.Preeti Shenoy. This is the first book I read from Shenoy. I replied with a smile.

I read this book a few years back when she published it, but I lost it somewhere. The book fascinated me then. She paused.

I, too, had lost a few good books in the past, but I am careful nowadays. Books are a treasure you can’t lose. I commented although it was a lie.

Do you read a lot of books? I enquired to continue the conversation.

As a student, I used to read a lot, but I don't have enough time to read now. She replied. The train journey is ideal for reading books,  especially if your trip is longer. I resumed reading when I started travelling on the train daily. I poured in enough motivation to continue talking with her.

She nodded and looked outside through the windows. She was not in the mood to continue the conversation for unknown reasons.

That was the end of a short conversation with her.

A few minutes passed, and I picked the bag from her lap and thanked her for holding it. She replied that she should thank me for offering a seat. As I was about to walk, she raised her finger like she had something to ask me. 

Err. If you don’t mind, can I ask you something? She sputtered.

I looked at her face curiously and nodded positively with an expression I could bring to my face to please her.

When you finish reading, could you please lend me that book? I promise I will return safely as soon as I finish reading. Her face appeared as if she had asked something impossible.

Okay, no issues, but I have just finished midway. There are plenty of pages to cover, and it might take a few more weeks. My reply must have disappointed her.

You will take up to one month in any case. She was not giving up.

You can ask me if you have my number. I was willing to share my number, which was better than asking for her number.

That won't be necessary; I will meet you in the same compartment precisely one month from now. How about that? She suggested an idea.

I knew she was bluffing to get rid of me before I asked for her number, which I had no intention of doing. The train had entered the station, and I needed to walk to the door. 

Let's see, then. I smiled and made my way through the crowd to the exit.

For the next few days, the incident remained in my mind; it got deposited in the dungeons of my memory registers gradually. There are many things to remember for a married man and the father of two kids, even though my daily travel and reading continued as usual.

It was a Wednesday morning, and the train was almost empty. Suddenly, she emerged from the vestibule to the coach I boarded. She was in the same lawyer’s attire but without a mask. I realized she was more beautiful than I had imagined and was not limping this time. She recognized me and approached with a smile.

I hope you have finished the book. She occupied the adjacent aisle seat.

She was serious then, and I am here without  'A Hundred Little Flames.' What should I tell her?  I had finished the book and left it at home, or  I did not think she was serious then. 

Hello! That was the only word that came out of my mouth.

Then, somehow, the words came out as I struggled to cover the mustiness from my face. I finished the book and started reading a new one. Unfortunately, I  don’t have it now, but I promise you will get the book by tomorrow.

Let's meet in the same coach tomorrow. I had expected you wouldn't believe me. She replied with a smile and left the seat.

Everything happened like a dream; before I could say anything, she had disappeared through the vestibule to wherever she came from.

I felt sorry for two things: first, for not keeping my promise; second, for disappointing a beautiful woman.

The next day, I was prepared to meet her and had kept the book she wanted in my bag. I waited fruitlessly for her when I boarded the train but was disappointed. She did not appear like the previous day, which frustrated me. 

 A few minutes passed, and someone patted my shoulders from the back and told me to move to the middle seat. I tilted my head; she was there, standing behind me. I moved with the happiness of discovering a long-lost treasure.

I offered her the book as soon as she occupied the seat. Instead of leaving as usual, she turned the book pages and sat there for some time.

This book means a lot to me. Thank You.

I nodded. May I ask your name, at least?

She stopped turning the pages and looked at me with a smile. My name is ROHINI. 

I was shocked; the name of the most important character in the book is ROHINI. 

Rohini's presence is throughout the book from the beginning, although she appears in the book's second half.

Oh! Now I know why this book is very dear to you. Rohini did not react to my comment; instead, she looked at me without emotion. Indeed, she was thinking something else.

Next month, same date, same coach. Is that okay with you? Rohini was quick to mention the date of return.

Next month or after that, you can take your time, Rohini. By the way, I am Sarath Krishnan. I used the moment to introduce myself.

Alright, Sarath. See you later. She replied as she left the seat and started to walk from where she had appeared. 

Then I realized she was walking to the coach reserved for the ladies, which was on the opposite side of the train compared to its position the last time we met. She will find it difficult to locate me if the railway changes the coach position. It would have been easier if she had my number, which she has never asked for.

One month and a week passed, but she did not return with the book. I was willing to wait since she would appear anytime with the book. As expected, she appeared in the second week. 

Hello Sarath, sorry for the delay. Some personal matters obstructed my reading; thank you for your patience. She was standing, although there were plenty of seats around us.

She was prettier than last time, and there was happiness on her face. She was willing to talk this time, and Rohini occupied the seat I pointed to. 

You look happier than we met last time. The book must have rejuvenated you completely.  I commended.

To my surprise, Rohini giggled.

Sometimes, you need a trip to the past for a fresh start. Thank you for lending the book; I don’t know whether you have seen this book before. Rohini took a book from her bag, ‘ The Damned Utd ‘ by David Peace. It is a biographical novel on the life of famous football coach Brian Clough.

My Goodness! This is football; how do you know I love football? I couldn’t conceal my excitement.

I did not know; I just imagined you might like this. The book is of no value to me, although I have read it. You may keep it. Rohini replied.

I have seen the movie based on this book, which was an excellent one. Thank you for your kindness. Rohini seemed excited by my reply.

Is there a film based on this book? I was not aware of it. What is the movie's name, and is it available in OTT now? She enquired. The film has the same name as the book,’ The Damned Utd.’It is available on Amazon Prime. She nodded positively to my reply.

That was the beginning of a friendship. We exchanged books and discussed movies and books. Rohini was always happy to talk with me and never talked about our personal and professional matters. We have never exchanged phone numbers, but Rohini always spotted me on the train. 

Each time I met Rohini, she was getting prettier than before, and one day, she appeared with a nose ring, which was not there until we met last time. I wanted to ask the reason behind the ornate nose but decided to stick to the unwritten rules between us.

Rohini looked at me with a mischievous smile and said. I know you were staring at my nose rings. 

I haven’t seen it decorating your nose before, but I preferred not to ask. I replied.

Sarath, I want to give you something, and you don't have to return it. Then she pulled a small envelope from her bag and extended it to me. It looked like a wedding card, and I accepted it.

The beautiful letters on the envelope revealed, ‘Amritha weds Harikrishnan.’

I opened it carefully. Amritha weds Harikrishnan, and the family details of the bride and groom were printed inside.

I couldn’t spot Rohini’s name anywhere in the invitation.

I was curious to know whose wedding it was, so I enquired. Is it your sister’s marriage?

What? No! It is my marriage. She replied in shock; then she recognized the confusion on my face.

Sorry, I didn’t tell you; my official name is Amritha; Rohini is my pet name, given by my grandmother. Rohini said in a tone that sounded like apologizing.

So, Amritha, you are getting married. She nodded to my question.

I came to invite you and your family to my marriage. It is on a Sunday, and you should come with your family. She completed the invitation.

How do you know I have a family? We haven’t shared our details, and you don’t even know who I am? I expressed my displeasure for hiding her name from me for a long time. I am sorry; I could not befriend one more man when I met you. I was fighting for a divorce from an evil relationship. The book you gave me, 'A Hundred Little Flames,' helped me survive the challenging periods of my life. She paused for a second before regaining composure.

The only similarity between the characters in the book, Rohini and me, is our names. My story is similar to another character in the book, Gopal Shankar. She looked at me for a reply.

I realized what she had gone through; no more explanation was required. Gopal Shankar’s life was hell. 

This is my remarriage, and I have invited only a few close friends. We haven’t shared our details, but I am confident that you are as good as the books you read, and I have always considered you as one of my very few close friends. She stopped and looked at my face in anticipation.

Rohini, I have always liked your company, and we had similar interests, which I realized when you started talking with me. I apologize for being rude; I was unaware of what you had gone through. I will attend your marriage for sure, and bring my family too. Thank you for inviting me.

Thank you, Sarath. We won’t meet after my marriage as I am moving with my husband to Kochin. I will miss your company and the excellent books you choose. Rohini’s words did not affect me then, but later, I realized she was a fantastic friend who was not bothered about my background or history.

Two weeks later, I attended Rohini alias Amritha’s marriage to Harikrishnan and appeared for a photo session with them. I purposefully avoided my family. How could I convince my wife about such a good relationship with a beautiful woman that grew through exchanging books and discussing topics of common interest?

Tale End

I had concealed the fact that I had read the book ‘The Damned Utd’a a long time back, and inspired by the book, I watched the movie with the help of torrent downloads. I was not willing to bring an end to the excitement on her face then, and a lie gifted a fantastic friendship. 

(The story and the characters are nothing but fiction, which I developed when I noticed a beautiful female lawyer staring at me while reading A Hundred Little Flames by Preeti Shenoy during one of my daily trips in Venad Express. Before someone narrates the story to my better half, the mother of two little treasures in my life, I should mention it here.  )