The light shone red. The autorickshaw jerked to a grinding
halt. A second early,
and I would have been alongside the white car that was
hastily vanishing
from my present line of sight.
He pulled up casually in his three-wheeled truck, in no real
hurry I now imagine.
As I stared long and hard at the blaring circular hurdle
in my tumultuous race
to the railway station, he made me look the other way, at
him.
Bursting gently into a heartfelt rendition of 'Tujhe Na
Dekhoon To Chain
Mujhe Aata Nahi Hai', a popular 90s Hindi film song, he unhinged
my frown
and set my resources pacing like a father-to-be outside a delivery
room.
On impulse, I asked him, after waiting a few seconds for a
break in the chorus,
'Kaunsi pickchar?' Which
film? Then, before he could make an effort to answer,
I ventured, ‘Rahul
Roy par filmaya gaya tha? Junoon? Junoon.’
Did
the song feature Rahul Roy? From the movie Junoon?
Must have been Junoon.
He nodded in agreement, ‘15 saal puraana gaana hai. Gaate
phirte the jab
pehli baar pyar hua.’ The
song is 15 years old. I used to keep singing it
when I fell in love the first
time. I let out an inward grin.
Without standing on ceremony, he humbly asked me for a
cigarette, followed by a light,
both of which I gladly parted with. Passing the
lighter back, he strode once more
down his lane of lyrical nostalgia, punctuated
in greater variation this time around.
I threw in the odd line, without
interruption, with equal soul. When he stopped,
I asked him where he was
headed. He said something the whirr of passing traffic
drowned out entirely.
The light flashed green. As he turned his noisy engine on,
I
waved him goodbye shouting, ‘Gaate chalo. Khush raho.’ Keep singing. Stay happy.
He laughed and waving back in return, trained his eyes on
the road.
As my auto lumbered ahead, I mulled, ‘It wasn’t Junoon.
Phir Teri
Kahani Yaad Aayi. That’s the film.’ I was wrong.
As we pulled into the next signal, I looked out and saw that
the truck
had come to a halt three vehicles behind us. A part of me wanted to
step out at once
and present the assumed correction. But, I decided against ruining
the symphony
that had stemmed from our ignorance, and stuck to my seat.
The red light had changed much. Sure, I was a cigarette shy.
But, that wasn’t it.
My singing friend-for-a-minute had, with his song and
light-hearted manner eased me
of the anxiety that had consumed me moments
before, the monstrous apprehension
that envelops anyone accustomed to the
unpredictability of city traffic especially
when a train or a flight needs
catching inside peak hours. In that solitary moment,
he spirited away a part of
me I needed losing and left me with a memory that will linger.
There was much humming inside the auto in the half hour that followed,
and much more in the days to come. Some of it has lasted to this moment.
And, in case you’re still wondering, the movie was Rang.
I intend to save the song for the next time I find love.
