Month: July 2019

The guard who stopped the train and made my morning

on By

I made a dash with hesitation (do you know what am referring to? Like, when you run but also your legs give way and your heart wants you to try a bit more?). As I hurriedly bought my ticket, I saw the train doors closing along the platform that was about 20 steps of a run, maybe less. The guard at the barricade told me I can probably make it to the train and as I punched out, I saw the train guard standing out, keeping a door open and urging me to hop into that cabin. I foolishly tried getting into another wondering why the door did not budge open. He patiently called out, “Madam, this one! This one, I have it open.” That’s when I realised I had to get into that compartment and I gave him the most grateful sheepish look I could. The next train was a longer route and 20 minutes away and meant missing my first meeting with a senior at work (who probably would have kindly understood my predicament but that would have made me really guilty throughout our meeting). Anyway, I hopped in, he gave me a small smile as if this was nothing.

As I got off at Waterloo, I walked up to him. He probably thought I was lost and meant to ask for directions. And when I told him, it was beautiful what he did and am so thankful, he gave me the most beautiful smile and shrugged with a, “Ah no problem. Don’t worry about it.”

Almost always when I walk away from such people, the world around me stops. I have tears from God-knows-where spring into my eyes. I tell myself repeatedly, how beautiful people are. It makes me so emotional that I spend the next hour or two smiling at everyone and creeping them out. K has seen me do this multiple times. But really, it made my morning. I have lost count of how many times I have said this, but the people in train stations and the staff who work for the London Underground and South Western Railways are absolutely fabulous and everyday heroes. I mean every one of them. They have let me in when my app conked off, sometimes walked me to the correct exit, drawn a virtual route on their palm to show me the way, redirected me to better and shorter routes and just been absolutely wonderful with other fellow travellers every time I have passed by.

I thought long and hard about how I must title this happy event of mine that happened this morning. I quite honestly could not think of any way to do it. It really is as simple as that and yet so profound.

Petrichor

on By

“Petrichor is the earthy scent produced when rain falls on dry soil.“

I must confess I quite did not understand what was so special about this until now. When so many people around me kept saying that they love the smell after the rains, I did not get it. It felt silly to be the only person who did not, so I nodded away every single time. Not saying anything. Neither agreeing, nor disagreeing but amused all the same. Was I missing something obvious? Had I not been through a dry enough patch to appreciate this? I wanted to be part of this experience and feel included in knowing I shared a scent with so many of my friends. So I built it up in my head – an imaginary scent.

This was back in school and college. And it stayed that way until day before yesterday.

As I walked back from the railway station, it started to drizzle and catch up. Not in a violent way but enough to moisten the dry soil that has been a welcome gift of English summer, for many. And that’s when it hit me. Petrichor. Ever so subtle and immediately taking me back to those trees on the playground around which we huddled as we discussed out favourite scents. I love petrichor now though not much for its scent but rather, for all the ways in which it brings me so close to my childhood and all those conversations that carried all the meaning in the world. It has been years and yet I feel closer to them in a special way.