16/01/2010

04:05a.m.

About 10 minutes back, I was about to call it an early night (by my standards), was inside the sheets, had switched off the lights and was about to say my prayers. Just before that I decided to set the alarm & check my messages. After all, today is gonna be the D-Day. Farewell MBA and IBS!!! Scrolling through the inbox my eyes opened wide when I saw a name which seemed so very out of place. Who was it? The letters spelt out the name as ‘CRYSTAL’. My mind tried to associate the name with a face, a place, something familiar but my heart knew it immediately who it was.

It was the name of a person whom nearly a year back I knew nothing about & presently too I dunno much about. It was the name of a person who had gone out of her way to show to show that humanity will always bond people together irrespective of their colour, creed, religion or the soccer club that they root for.

I remember the morning of 12th January, 2009 clearly. Waking up in the room allotted to me in the Boys Hostel of TAPMI, Manipal & getting ready to drop off Pooja to the Mangalore airport. We left the campus around 12 noon with me clutching on to a sketch, hand-drawn by Snoopy, to help me get back here after seeing off Pooja. Pooja and I chatted along inside the cab for the greater part of the 2 hour drive to the airport & then had lunch at the deli adjoining the airport. Her flight took off as scheduled at 03:15p.m. & by 3p.m. I was pretty much on my own as the security personnel did not allow me in.

It was a hot afternoon even though it was January. The afternoon sun seemed to blaze in all its glory & seemed to mock the wisps of clouds that were to be seen in the otherwise bald sky. I took out the sketch with sweaty fingers & considered my options while slowly walking towards the auto stand, careful, not to look uncertain. There were 4 options of which I immediately ruled out the 1st which was to take a cab back to the campus. Why? You would ask. Go ahead, ask. First, I have always loved adventure & 2nd it would have set me back by Rs.800. I took an auto to Bachpe instead (this was the 2nd alternative & the beginning of something which would indeed be remarkable). Chatting casually, I asked the auto driver about the bus that would take me to Mangalore from Bachpe. He coolly replied that the frequency of that bus was not as much as I would have thought & that for Rs.300 he would drop me to Mangalore. I insisted on getting off at Bachpe. He dropped me at the bus stop, took his due and left me standing there with other locals. I waited patiently wishing that the bus arrived quickly but it seems the driver’s words were gonna be true after all. One, two, …., four, five, red, blue, multi-coloured, plastered with posters, no.2, no.108, no.8, buses bearing all types of different identification marks came & went but the ones to Mangalore seemed to have had conspired against me.

The afternoon sun was beating down on me & I was slowly cursing myself to have got myself into this situation. Time & again I asked different people about the bus but everyone seemed clueless. It was not that they weren’t trying to help me, but when they used to speak to me all I could do was either gawk at them or nod my head stupidly as I could not understand a single syllable of what they spoke.

Restlessness was creeping into my system & time and again I found myself pacing all around the bus stand, looking at road signs, peering into the sketched map & trying to look unaffected. Must have been a sight to behold!!!!

At around 4:45p.m., a bus came & I spoke to the driver. He told me that this bus was going part of the way & I could hop in if I wanted. I was not sure but still I boarded the shaky, battered steel monster which had so many other people in its belly. Farmers, village folk, school children, old men, sneezing kids, ladies, bawling toddlers & yes the most irritating character in all buses, the conductor.

When he came & asked me where I wanted to go it hit me that I didn’t know the place for which I needed to take a ticket. I wanted to ask the driver but it was too crowded to reach him. Somehow, I explained it to the conductor & he gave me a ticket worth Rs.8 & a cold stare which seemed to question the sanity, morality & the values of the urban Indian youth in the very same manner as most Indian prime time soaps (inspired by the ‘famous’ K-series saga) do. I clutched on to the ticket as if it was a life line. Oh! By the way, the place where I was supposed to alight was called Mulky. On the way, some people got down & I stood near the driver, peering out through the windshield. I must admit that I have always have had bizarre experiences but had never felt as helpless & clueless as I was feeling at that point of time.

It was at this moment that someone tapped me on my back. I turned around & saw a bespectacled lady looking up at me from her seat. I quickly checked if I was standing on her toes or her cream coloured saree. Negative! I looked up at her face & saw that she must be around 50 years old. You never know with ladies & of course you should never ask them. Anyways, she spoke first & asked me where I wanted to go? God! Was I taken aback? She was the 1st human being in almost 2 hours who had spoken something which did not sound gibberish to me. It was English. I replied to her query. She asked everything & I told her everything. I had decided by now that had no more reason to try & act cool. Crystal, as she introduced herself to me informed me something that made things even more interesting. She told me that there had been a murder of some local politician the night before & all buses were taking a diverted route through the jungle & that if roadblocks were removed & the mob relented only then could we reach Mulky. Moreover, the route taken was a one way so I was virtually trapped into a point of no return.

This piece of news hit me like lightning & whatever little courage I had mustered just vanished into thin air, leaving me quaking in my boots. Crystal asked me to sit down next to her when the person beside her got off & started talking to me. She told me that she taught kids in a primary school & that she was on her way back home. Though this was not her daily route, she had come this way as she needed to visit the church along with some of her friends because of some reason which I can no longer remember. When she spoke her eyes danced. There was a twinkling in them. She was so very calm & composed that I was afraid that my palpable tensions would upset her. Her voice was soothing & as affectionate as a mother’s when she is trying to mollify her baby. Her face glowed as if it had an aura about it. The more time passed & the more I interacted with her, the courage that had deserted me slowly seemed to creep back, the blood in my body seemed to be flowing again & the hair on my neck & forearms which were standing at their ends settled down into peaceful slumber. I clung on to her words & opened up to this unknown lady, in the middle of nowhere, much against the teachings (read : threats & warnings) that are imparted to an Indian kid with a middle class upbringing, imploring him not to talk or have anything to do with strangers.

Around 30 minutes or what seemed like so later, Crystal called up someone. After making the call she told me that she had called up her nephew & that he would drop me off to Mangalore or even up to Manipal on his bike if I could not reach Mulky or get any other form of transport. She gave me her cell phone number as well as took mine so that even after she alighted from the bus at the next stop she could know how I was doing. Before getting off the bus, she explained to the conductor where I needed to get off & shook my hands & wished me luck. I waved at her from the window & saw her crossing the street & enter the church. I never knew when I would see her again or whether I would get to hear her again as I had started rejoicing by now as it was clear that the bus would drop me off to Mulky. This information had been given to me by Crystal when she spoke to the conductor before alighting from the bus. Soon, I reached Mulky & then took an express coach to Manipal & in the next one hour or so I was in familiar terrain. During this time Crystal had called me twice as soon as she had finished praying & again later.

I never spoke to her again until June 2009. No one knows about her except for Snoopy. When I called her up in June she was delighted & after disconnecting the line I found my heart aglow with a kind of lightness & joy which I have never yet experienced. It was very different from the happiness which you get when your parents hug you after you return home from college for the semester break, when your siblings embrace you when you don’t tell on them & keep their lil’ secrets & crushes a secret, when your team mates pick you up on their shoulders when you score a goal in extra time or hit a sixer off the last ball of the match to win it or when you pick up an improbable looking volleyball drop or smash, when you share your first kiss, when you have a heart to heart chat with your best friend, when you buy a n old man food or when you go on a long drive with your beloved & know that she loves you for being what you are & will forever do so unconditionally. The joy & peace I experienced was something totally different. Something inexplicable. Something so pure & holy that I associate it with God himself. Yes! I believe Crystal is a fairy. She touched me & blessed me. Her gauzy wings & halo I could not see but the light that emanated from her took away my fears that day. I believe you are my fairy GODMOTHER. And I am glad I got out of bed & penned this down today (tonight).

P.S. I am sorry that it took so so long for me to do this. I dunno whether you’ll ever read this or we’ll ever meet again but I mean every word I have written above and I’ll always remember you, I promise. May God always treat you well & bless your life.

16/01/2010

06:03a.m.