“Ah! That’s why it is so heavy,” I concluded.

“Yes,” he wheezed. Though, out of breath, he refused to part his lips. Everyone is born with some defect or deformity. They spend their entire lives, hiding it from the common public. As a result, their weakness becomes a focal point during all the social interactions. The problem is not with the general eye; it is with them, who attach so much importance to it. Anyhow, I still made my best attempt to put him at ease.

“What’s your good name and what do you do sir?” I asked my friend politely. This time I kept my eyes on the baby in front. I extended my pee-pee finger towards him to grab. He chortled closing his tiny hand around it.

“My name is Pankaj, Pankaj Gupta, Dr. Pankaj Gupta,” he was finally able to give his full identity in the end.

“I am an ophthalmologist,” he said taking a deep breath. I on the other hand, was thrown into a whirlpool of confusion. I am a terribly inquisitive personality. When I am presented with such fantastic data, my churning machine goes berserk. In place of output, I crave for more input. Conclusions are substituted by ramified questions. The end result is the same, every single time. I psych out my object of concern.

“Nice,” I mumbled, trying very hard to control myself. I could feel something pacifying me. My madness was being checked by suction. The baby boy sitting opposite was sucking at my little finger. His tender gums and tongue were oozing saliva as he created his little vacuum at the fingertip. With a gentle smile, I cradled him in my arms.

“What do you do sir?” Pankaj asked.

“I am a dreamer, following his dreams…” I said happily. The baby was now playing with the earphones, dangling from my neck. I looked into his eyes and then at his serene face. He reminded me so much of Sush. I sniffed expectantly and found the same odour.

“So, she does use Johnson’s Baby products,” I thought, delighted at the new found discovery.

“Like?” Pankaj questioned.

“Like, I write when I feel like, I play instruments when I feel the nudge,” I suggested.

“And you love me, WHEN YOU FEEL LIKE!” I could almost hear Sushmita resonating inside my head, in the same tone.

“What have you written recently…umm…what’s your name?” asked Pankaj, sounding interested for the first time.

“My name is Nandish and of late my Fish ‘n’ Butter Chicken series is getting quite a bit of attention,” I smiled.

“Oh! Can I read it?” asked Pankaj, in the same tone.

“Yes, sure…here you go,” I replied, passing my phone to him.

“Nandu speaks…The Kurta Affair,” he read aloud. The lady in front gave another disapproving snort. I offered a weak smile, trying to ease her. Pankaj was now reading furiously from one episode to another. I on the other hand, was still thinking whether Sushmita would respond before 22^nd or not. It would be her birthday then and I wouldn’t like her to celebrate it, without me. I had a special gift for her and couldn’t wait to see her response.

“Sir, ticket please,” the ticket checker woke me out of my reverie.

“Yes, 1 second…Pankaj sir, please hand my phone over to him…sir see the SMS and here’s my driving licence,” I said extending my driving licence towards him.

He opened the ‘Message Inbox’ and widened his eyes on seeing the latest message.

Drugs…he tapped to see the message content.

Shut up you loser!!! Tumse kuch na ho paayega saale fattu!!!

He glanced one shot at me and suddenly pulled onto the emergency chord. With a heavy hand, he grabbed me by the collar.

“But sir, what have I done?” I questioned bewildered.

“I’ll tell you what you have done! Saale drug peddler!” he spat. I tried to free myself from his tight grip. The lady sitting close by immediately covered her son protectively in her dupatta and turned her back towards us.

“Now you cockroaches have started polluting the trains too!” he roared at the top of his voice. I was being dragged against my will towards the entrance door of the coach.

To be continued…