Updated: Jul 9, 2021
Slice Buddy: Rajan K. | Age: 24 | Profession: Engineer
"I love how 'Life of a Slice' celebrates instances from people's lives. There is something relevant to learn from these pocketful of experiences. I'm glad I'm now a part of this community." — Rajan K.
Image by Pixabay
Before lockdown, my family planned a 10-day Rajasthan trip. As my first trip to the North, I looked forward to it, but thinking of my girlfriend upset me. It has never been beyond two days of not meeting her.
On the day of my departure, I wanted to meet her but her schedule was tight with lectures till 6 in the evening. Her posting was in Borivali, that’s again where I was going to catch Udaipur Express.
It was four in the evening. We were on platform no 6, waiting for the train. It was to arrive in 30 minutes.
I and my girlfriend were in the same station—I so wished to meet her one last time before leaving. That’s when my phone rang. It was her.
At first, I was in surprise—she should deliver a lecture at this hour.
‘Hello?’ she said in her melodious tone.
‘Where are you?’ I asked.
‘Guess what. I had a lecture now, but it got cancelled. I’m reaching station in 5 minutes. Where are you?’
‘You are not joking, right?’
‘No love, I’ve almost reached the station.’
My heart skipped a beat. It was a “wish come true” moment for me.
I informed my family I got an urgent call and walked around to search for her. She was looking around for me on the opposite platform. The next moment, we saw each other!
We waved at each other in an excitement—feeling as long-lost childhood friends who’ve met. She looked gorgeous as ever—her hair parted sideways, swaying loose on her shoulder; a tote bag hanging on her arm; her outfit—a pastel casual shirt with its sleeves rolled up to three fourth and navy blue cotton trousers; the shine of her silver accessories, and her bright smile—everything compelled me to stare at her in awe, forgetting the rest of the world, as always.
‘Hey, I’m missing you already.’
‘Likewise. You know what; I’m coming to you. We’ll spend the rest of the evening together.’
She looked at me, startled, making me burst into laughter, watching her childish expression. Of course, I got a good scolding later.
I passed a quick glance at my family. They were not looking at me, so I flying kissed her and promised that we will meet soon after I return.
In minutes, a train arrived on her platform. She hurried towards the door gap and I spotted her again. She did not take this train and instead told me she’ll wait till its time for me to go. The train left, giving us an unobstructed view of each other. I tell you, as many times as I see her, I’m always left wanting more.
On the call, we were going, ‘I love you… we’ll meet soon… 10 days aren’t that long... I’ll send you pictures, etc.’
Soon, my father called me out from where he was standing, gesturing me to come back as our train was about to arrive. I wished I could hold on longer. In a few minutes, another train came on her platform, and she took that one upon my insistence.
She stood at front near the door, and distance wise, she was even closer. If only I could bridge the gap and give her a tight hug.
The train caught pace, and we said our last goodbyes. I kept looking at her in silence, until she was far and off from my sight.
That evening at the railway platform—it all felt like a movie scene—a chance encounter of two lovers craving for each other.
In those ten days, we missed each other, obviously. Little did we know that it’s going be an even longer time we won’t meet because of the sudden pandemic.
This instance reminds me the pain of drifting apart but the joy of keeping hope. I am, yet again, clinging to the same hope: “We are going to meet again.”
Here are a few pictures shared by Rajan from his trip!
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