I was at Dadar Station today eagerly awaiting my granny’s arrival from Agaas. The train was miles away, while rain poured in torrents. An elderly uncle seated on a bench beside suggested I sit comfortably until the train arrives. I obliged. He asked me regarding my studies. I happily chanted,
“I am an MA in English Literature!”
“Wow Beta! Even I had done my BA in Hindi Literature, years before.” Impressed by mine, the dear uncle shared his achievement.
“Amazing! Uncle, are you are a poet?”
Bewildered, he enquired, “How did you know?”
“Well, I just guessed …” I smiled.
He opened his bag and gave me a sheet of his Gujarati Poem. I thanked him.
“Beta, do you right poetry?”
“Ya, a bit.”
“In English, Hindi or Gujarati?”
“English and Hindi.”
“Please Beta, if it’s fine with you; read me out one of your poems.”
My Samsung Monte had the Hindi poem I had written for Hasan Zaidi. I blushed and read it out. He enjoyed the poem thoroughly, especially the way I had structured my words and my feelings attached to them. He blessed me for my future ventures.
Casually, he asked me if I was married. I said, “No, I just finished my studies.” He showed me a guy’s photograph. I spoke, “Uncle, what can I say?” He sensed my hesitation and changed the topic. Then, he joked a bit and related some of his further accomplishments. Just then my train puffed-puffed at the platform and I bid him adieu.
After I returned home with my granny, I read his poem. It was indeed spectacular! I guess there’s always a hidden meaning behind these strange meets. Let’s see what’s hidden in this one …
