In the occasion of Republic Day, here is a story from my Creative Writing Archives.
I wrote this story 2 years ago on the eve of Republic Day – on 25 January 2013 – to be precise.
I feel it is still relevant.
Do tell me if you like it.
Wish You a Happy Republic Day 26 January 2015.
JANUARY 26
Republic Day Story
By
VIKRAM KARVE
January 26
Republic Day of India
6:30 AM.
A cold morning.
A woman sits on a bench on the solitary platform of Girinagar Railway Station.
She looks at her watch.
Then she looks towards the Railway Track.
She has a worried expression on her face.
The Station Master comes out of his office holding two flags, one green and one red.
He sees the woman and smiles at her.
The woman gets up from the bench and asks the station master, “Is the shuttle late?”
“Yes, the shuttle has been delayed. The express train is being stopped here. The shuttle has been detained at the outer signal and will arrive here after the express train goes away.”
“Oh, My God…!!!”
“What happened?” asks the station master.
“I don’t want to be late for the Republic Day function in our school,” the woman says.
“What time is the function?”
“7:30. The normal school time.”
“Oh.”
“I hope I will reach in time,” the woman says anxiously.
“I don’t think so,” the station master says.
“Why? What happened?” the woman asks.
“Well, normally the shuttle leaves here at 6:25 and reaches the Junction at 7:10,” the station master says.
“That’s right. And it is just a 10 minute walk down to school. I’ll reach in time even if my train is a few minutes late, isn’t it?” the woman says.
The station master looks at his watch, then looks at the woman, and he says, “Well, I really can’t say. From here to the junction, it is 45 minutes running time for the shuttle train. The express is expected to arrive at 6:45 and will be detained here for about 10 minutes. By the time the shuttle arrives and leaves it will easily be 7 o’clock. Even if it makes up time, the shuttle train will not be able to reach the junction by 7:30. And then, you still have a 10 minute walk to school. I don’t think you will be able to reach your school by 7:30.”
“Oh, My God. I will be in trouble if I am late for the Republic Day function. It will be so humiliating,” the woman says in an anxious voice with nervousness written all over her face.
“You have got a first class pass, haven’t you?” the station master asks.
“Yes,” the woman says.
“Then don’t worry. You can travel by the express in the air-conditioned coach. I will tell the TTE to permit you. The express will take less than 15 minutes to reach the junction and you will be there latest by 7:10 and you can easily reach your school well before 7:30.”
“Thank you so much.”
“What ‘Thank You’? You are like my daughter. This is the least I can do for you.”
“Why is the express stopping here?” the woman asks.
“The express train is being stopped here for Colonel Ashok,” the station master says.
Suddenly the telephone rings and the station master rushes inside his office.
The woman closes her eyes and remembers the station master’s words:
“The express train is being stopped here for Colonel Ashok”
Those words slice through the woman’s heart like a knife slices through butter.
Those words slice through the woman’s heart like a knife slices through butter.
“So Ashok is a Colonel now. A big shot. Big enough to get the express train stopped for him at Girinagar where even the fast passenger does not halt,” the woman says to herself.
Then the woman is filled with hate and regret.
As the woman remembers her days with Ashok – her thoughts become bitter – and she says to herself:
“Had it not been for the scheming bitch Menaka who mesmerized Ashok with her enticing charms and stole him away from me – today I would been Mrs. Ashok – Yes, it is me who should have rightfully been Mrs. Ashok – I would have been a Colonel’s Wife – a Memsahib.”
Suddenly, the shrill whistle of the diesel engine of the express train disturbs her train of thoughts and the express train arrives on the platform.
The air-conditioned coach stops right in front of her.
In the door of the coach stands Menaka, Ashok’s wife.
In the door of the coach stands Menaka, Ashok’s wife.
Menaka sees the woman on the platform and smiles at her.
But the woman does not return the smile.
But the woman does not return the smile.
The woman turns her face away from Menaka.
But the woman furtively looks at the door of the air-conditioned coach with the corner of her eyes trying to catch a glimpse of Ashok.
The big show-off that he is, the woman is sure that Ashok will be all dressed up in his resplendent army uniform strutting like a peacock.
But there is no sign of Colonel Ashok.
Instead she sees a young officer in army uniform getting down from the train with Menaka.
Then both of them – Menaka and the young army officer – start walking together towards the end of the train.
Then both of them – Menaka and the young army officer – start walking together towards the end of the train.
“Come on, get in fast,” the station master motions her towards the door of the air-conditioned coach.
The Station Master says something to the TTE.
The TTE tells the woman to go inside and sit on Seat No. 30.
She sits on Seat No. 30.
A family – a man, a woman and a small boy sit on the seats around her.
There is a jerk, the tug of the engine, and the train starts moving and picks up speed.
The woman looks at her watch.
6:50.
She heaves a sigh of relief.
She will be well on time for the Republic Day function.
The TTE arrives to check her pass.
The woman asks the TTE: “Why did the train stop here?”
“To detach the refrigerated van at the end of the train,” the TTE says.
“Refrigerated van?” the woman asks.
“The refrigerated van was carrying the body of an army officer who died in action and sacrificed his life for the nation. The dead army officer’s widowed wife was sitting right here on Seat No. 30 – the same seat where you are now sitting,” the TTE says.
“Refrigerated van?” the woman asks.
“The refrigerated van was carrying the body of an army officer who died in action and sacrificed his life for the nation. The dead army officer’s widowed wife was sitting right here on Seat No. 30 – the same seat where you are now sitting,” the TTE says.
“Army Officer? Dead?” the woman asks.
“His name was Colonel Ashok,” the man sitting in front says.
“Ashok? Colonel Ashok?” the woman asks with disbelief.
“Ashok? Colonel Ashok?” the woman asks with disbelief.
“Yes. The brave martyr’s name was Colonel Ashok. And hat’s off to the courage of the Colonel’s wife. Despite losing her husband the courageous lady was so poised and calm. It is because of the supreme sacrifice of such brave army officers and their families that we can celebrate Republic Day … ”
VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve
1. If you share this post, please give due credit to the author Vikram Karve
2. Please DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. Please DO NOT Cut/Copy/Paste this post
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.
1. If you share this post, please give due credit to the author Vikram Karve
2. Please DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. Please DO NOT Cut/Copy/Paste this post
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.
Disclaimer:
This story is a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright Notice:
No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.
Copyright © Vikram Karve (All Rights Reserved)
© vikram karve., all rights reserved.
This Story is a Revised Version of My Story Earlier
No comments:
Post a Comment