Platform no 2

"May I have your attention, please? 1-3-1-4-2 Teesta Torsa express is arriving shortly on platform no.2" the lady's announcement didn't even bother me a little. I didn't move and continued brooding like I was doing for the past few hours. My elbow resting on my thigh, and my head dug into my hands, my back slowly started to pain as I am bowing for so long. I really don't care about the time at this moment, I just want to stay in this position till I breathe my last breath.

I was gripped by the feeling of hopelessness. The depression I was suffering from is on another level. It felt like I can't even face the light but yet I came here to the railway station all by myself facing every single ray of light on my way. I wanted to cry aloud but just then I hear a group of voices 'Nah! Boys don't cry.' I want to yell at them 'We too have feelings!!!' but I could only imagine yelling this to anyone because there is literally no one around me at the moment or at least I don't feel any human presence around me. 

I heard a loud horn from a distance approaching me, the ground beneath me slowly started shaking and as the sound got sharper and clearer the ground started shaking with a greater frequency. But no matter what the universe will try, it can't drag me out of the depression right now. The loudest noise, the sternest voice, the coldest weather can't move me an inch. For a moment I felt like I should have lain down on that rail track and ended this feeling in a fraction of a second but every part of my body refused to move even an inch.

"Dad let's go. The train has arrived. Hurry up fast!" I heard a little girl. A man, I assume him to be her dad, laughed in response and said"Don't worry beta, the train will stay here for about an hour" 

His laughter irritated me and I wanted him to listen to his daughter and get on the train ASAP.

Soon the train left shaking the ground, blowing the horn yet again but a failed attempt of moving me.

 I repeated each and every word mom told me this morning in my head, the scenario where that company rejected me played in my mind, the society that called me names for not having a strong income source burned my heart. I stayed there brooding over the thousand ways to end my life.

 I frequently got disturbed by the hawkers and some passer-by whispering 'what happened to him?' to themselves. I didn't respond to a single one of them, but let the pain grip my mind and heart. I was unmoved by any force of the universe but then...

A warm and tiny hand touched my arm and said "Bhaiya Kuch dedo"(Brother give me something). Not the loudest horn of the train, not the sternest voice of those hawkers, not the shaking of the ground, not the whisper of the passer-by but those little warm hands dragged me out of my thoughts. 

I removed one of my hands and gave a side look at her still holding my heavy head with the other. She smiled at me and spread her tiny hands covered with dirt in front of me. Her black eyes sparkled emitting a ray of hope. A hope that I will give her something. I looked at her from top to bottom. She looked like some 9-10 yrs old kid. She had a blue frock on, whose color seem to appear like a shade of brown due to the dust that settled on it. Her legs were bare as if those tiny feet are deprived of having a pair of slippers. Her frizzy hair was plated into two. The dusky face of her had a wide upward curve and deep black glistering eyes. She had carried a sack larger than her own malnourished frame. I wonder what that dirty sack contains. Obviously not the most expensive thing.

"I have nothing," I said in a stern voice and tried to shoo her away.

"I have not eat anything. Please give me something." She said trying to speak in English.

It was quite surprising that she can talk in a foreign language. The way she appeared doesn't look like she even has seen a school building in her life. I wonder who taught her English. Unable to hold back my curiosity I asked her.

"There is a Didi. She teaches me every Saturday Sunday." She responded. 

I nodded briefly and don't know why but asked"What do you have in that sack?" 

"Sack?" She asked in confusion.

I pointed to her sack and she said " Oh...you talking about my bag?"

She dragged that huge sack,(which is a bag for her eyes) and came to the other side of me and sat beside me. I switched my hands and held my heavy head with the other and again gave her a side look. After she made herself comfortable she dug into her 'bag' and reached out for something. I stared at her totally clueless wondering what treasure she is gonna take out from that dirty sack.

After taking a long minute her eyes glistered as she got caught of her 'treasure' in that 'bag'

She took out a used Classmate notebook and handed me. I  looked at the nameplate which read:

                    "Name: Shreya Banerjee

                      Class: XI  Sec: A

                      Roll no: 30

                      Subject: Economics"

"Who is Shreya Banerjee?" I asked

"My didi who teach me  Saturday Sunday. She give me this copy." She answered with broken English wrapped in an innocent smile. Well, I don't mind her vocabulary at all, unless and until she is trying. "Open it," She said.

I did as directed by her and discovered a few pages of beautiful handwritten notes on Economics. As I flipped through the pages I felt an urge to see the person who has written these beautiful notes. 

"From here" she flipped a bunch of papers until we landed on the page where there were some basics of the English language. The handwriting was not very good as compared to the previous one. It contained the simple basics about nouns, verbs, opposite words, gender, etc.

"I am learning this" she pointed out the opposite words and read a few of the words she has written 

                                        "big- small

                                         black - white

                                         far- near

                                         Sad- Happy"

The last word caught my attention, 'Sad - Happy'. I looked at her and her happy face. A face that is so happy with so little. Her sack and a used notebook seem to give her immense happiness, happiness, which hardly any luxurious stuff will ever give me.

"You know what is opposite of me?"  I asked to which she shook her head.

"You" I answered.

"Oh...Can you tell me the spelling? I want to write" she said eagerly. 

I told her the spellings and watched her write them in her notebook. I wonder if she really understood the deep hidden meaning of me being the opposite of you (her).

"Do you know what is the opposite of hopeless?" I asked her.

"No" she replied. She frowned a little. Perhaps she won't even know the meaning of the word itself.

"Ask your Shreya Didi" I said, to which she nodded and started flipping through some more pages.

Her hands stopped flipping the pages once her eyes landed on a page where she has done some maths problems. She handed me the copy and showed me some multiplication sums which she was learning. 

"Do you know tables of 8?" I asked.

"I know 12 table also." She said proudly and started reciting them. She did some mistakes while reciting it but I didn't correct her. I know it might sound a bit stupid but I want her to think of herself as a person who knows everything. I don't want to pull down her confidence. 

She showed me a couple of more stuff about her studies and bragged about her Shreya didi. How pretty Shreya di is, how well Shreya di teaches, how well Shreya di speaks English, how kind Shreya di is and some about herself as well like how many friends she has, how much she loves English, how she wants to be an author when she will grow up and many more but most of them included her Shreya didi. I don't really mind how she bragged about her privileges in front of me, in fact, I don't even want to call it bragging, it was more like how thankful she is for having those smallest things in her life. 

I literally got goosebumps hearing her talk and when she said that her aim was to become a writer my heart wanted to tell her my story, but again, I don't want to demotivate her. It's her dream let her dream it. If she really has potential then she will surely archive it.

My stomach grumbled, making me realize that I have not eaten anything since morning. "You hungry?" She asked. I tried to deny but my stomach grumbled again louder than the previous one. 

"Uff baba." She patted her forehead with her hand, looking rather cute. She dug into her sack and pulled out a bun. She split the bun into two and offered me half. I refused it and told her to have it all by herself. It might be a hard-earned bun for her so I prefer not to have it. 

" You are hungry eat it." She insisted. 

I checked my pockets and pulled out my wallet. I found a few bucks there and went to a nearby store and bought some chips and juice. 

We shared the chips and had juice and I satisfied my hunger to some extent. She seemed to enjoy every bite of the chip and every gulp of the juice. I wonder if her parents have not warned her of strangers. When I asked her about her parents she said that she has none. She has an old sick grandmother and a brother.

I felt that there is no one to guide her, so I warned her about strangers and told her not to trust everyone she meets randomly. She gave me a suspicious look after that"You can trust me." I said amused by her reaction. It was the first time in the past few months that I genuinely felt like laughing. But I just smiled a little, causing almost a negligible curve in my face. 

"Not everyone has a good intention, you should not trust any stranger." I tried to explain her. She frowned a little but seem to understand whatever I am trying to say as she didn't questioned me further but just nodded.

For a few minutes, there was silence between us. We watched the train entering the platform, people hustling to get on it, hawkers trying to sell their kinds of stuff, people loading their huge goods into the trains, the trains leaving the station with a loud horn and an earthquake.

Although surrounded by a hustling crowd and loud noise my ears felt deaf to anything. I slowly started feeling like I am regaining my mental peace. With every page that I flipped, every bite of the chips I had, seem to act as medicine for my mental illness. I am no longer afraid of facing the light but still, there was some void in some corner of my heart. I can still remember and hear the voices that called me coward, fool, stupid, looser, and whatnot. It's true 'words cuts deeper than knife......'

"Why do you look so sad?" I was driven out of thought. I looked at the little girl sitting beside me waiting for an answer.

I heaved a sigh, " Being a man can be difficult at times" I really don't know how to answer her question so I just managed to say this. There are lots of things going on inside at the same time and it's so jumbled up that I don't know where to start explaining myself. I also don't know exactly what is the reason for my sadness. 

"Why?"  She asked. I didn't get the answer for her 'why' so I  said nothing. " You are a boy, you can do anything you want, you can go anywhere you want,  my brother also go... "

I rolled my eyes and scoffed " Huh? Do anything I want? You don't even know how much burden I carry. You can't even imagine how much pressure I experience because of those expectations set by society. I am a man so I am expected to just earn money. I can't follow my passion because I have to run after money. Everyone pretends that they love me but I know they just do it because I fulfill their needs. I am loved conditionally. People........" I stopped as I realized that I said too much, I saw her staring at me totally bewildered. Everything might have sounded Greek to her. I kinda felt regret for pouring all my frustration over this little innocent kid. "You won't understand" I sighed. 

"You are right," she said, this time she sounded rather mature. We became silent and both stared at nothing. I want to talk to her but I fear I will pour down my frustration at her yet again. "My Shreya didi say there is no difference between boy and girl. My brother do the same thing I also do the same. God make us same" 

"And what does your Shreya says about dreams?" 

"She say dream big and do hark work. Do not hear to other who say you can not do it. Hear to your heart" 

I found her way of talking so cute. I smiled a huge smile and slowly started feeling healed from within. Her talks are far better and more effective than those motivational talks I have heard all this while. Her voice and her innocence have healing power. I never thought that I would feel happy just by talking to a random kid in a railway station. Now I slowly started to believe  'unexpected things are the best.'

I stared at her innocent face until a young girl about 18-19 yrs came searching for a girl named 'Asha'. 

"I've been searching for you everywhere. What are you doing here? I thought that you are lost. Everyone is searching for you stupid. "  She scolded the little girl sitting beside me.

The little girl- Asha scratched the back of her neck, with her signature innocent smile and apologized to her.  "She is my Shreya didi" Asha tried to introduce us. I just briefly smiled and Shreya gave me a suspicious look. She took the ray of hope- Asha and went. 

"What are you doing with him? I told you don't trust strangers. How many more times do I have to tell you the same thing?" 

" But he is a good uncle. Didi what is the meaning of hopeless?"

"Shut up! You don't understand........." They crossed the maximum range of hearing so I didn't heard any further of their conversation.

After some time I stood up and heard something fall down. When I looked down I saw Asha's notebook. I picked it up and wanted to return it but didn't saw them anywhere. I decided to keep it with me as a remembrance of a random hope of ray that I met on platform no. 2. 

As I walked out of the station everything started feeling nice. I don't fear light anymore, I don't feel lonely anymore, those words don't hurt me anymore, and I don't feel any heavy weight on my shoulder anymore. It seemed like those small hands have lifted up the heaviest burden I was carrying. 

I hailed a rickshaw and clutched the notebook and pressed it tight against my chest. A cool breeze blew my long-grown hair which I haven't cut for some 6 months. I felt thankful that I met an angel on platform no 2, not in a clean white dress, carrying a wand and having the prettiest face but with dusty clothes, carrying a huge sack and a dusky innocent smiling face.

[AN: I might have done a lot of grammatical mistakes since I am not a professional writer, so do pardon me😅 and leave a comment if you like the story...♥️ Your comments motivate me a lot to get going.....♥️🥰  ]