If the railway tracks were the arteries of  Calcutta, the stations were its lungs, the wide platform breathing the waiting eyes in and out. The first train ride from Dehradun to Howrah had felt like a sweet meditation to Mira, the gentle rocking so soothing like a mother's arm. But this time it felt different. The bursting evening crowd pouring inside the huge Howrah station was making it almost difficult for her to walk. Batakrishna was walking infront, his hands held the first class cabin tickets and his eyes wondered on the number plates on the halted giant smoke-snake.
Mahamaya was walking behind her, her eyes engrossed on a piece of paper, yet how smoothly she managed to trod through the jostling ocean.
Mira was the one struggling. With the small white potli clutched to her bosom and the ever receding saree from her head, she was struggling to move forward. One step, and someone would push her back with a nudge of a shoulder, and one step back, an unknown elbow would poke her to move ahead. Mira was breaking into nervous sweat.

"Cho... Choto Zamindar Babu..."
She called out, and as Batuk turned around, he saw her pale frightened face, her lips quivering in fear, and beads of pearl on the tip of her nose.

"What?" Batuk asked, and Mira tried to speak, but her abrupt stationed steps disagreed with the travellers walking behind her.

"Move... You bloody widow!" A man with a rich wooden trunk almost pushed her aside, and Mira fell down on the hard ground, scraping her elbow a little.

"Oye!!" Batakrishna had almost pounced on the man like a wounded lion, his left hand grabbing the man's collar and his right fisted infront of his face.
"How dare you..." He growled.

Mahamaya, however, had come to rescue immediately.
She had first picked Mira up, making her stand upright, and then she meddled to rescue the man from Batuk's wrath.

"Please apologize to the lady here and be gone." Mahamaya suggested calmly, and the man although unhappy at the idea of bowing down to the hapless crying widow, dared not conduct himself otherwise.
Batuk's reddened eyes were glaring at him, and gulping nervously at them the man folded his hands and apologized to Mira.

The man left, and it was time for Mira to bare the wrath.
"Why can you not walk properly Mira? Be firm... Eyes on the path... How dare anyone just push you around? Do you think they can push Maha here? Then why you?" He blurted out the words as Mira's eyes reflected renewed moisture.

"Ohoo... I'm not scolding you... It's just that I don't like you being pushed around, taken for granted... Why Mira? If you won't fight for your place, your due respect then who would?"

'You', Mira wanted to say, but instead she looked away, clutching the potli tighter.

"Here, Batakrishna Babu... 1C, our cabin." Mahamaya had walked ahead, and standing on a comparatively deserted platform infront of the first class compartment she raised her finger to point out towards a particular bogie.

"Ah, it's indeed!" Batuk chuckled, as he turned towards Mira only to find her eyes casted down and her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her white saree.

Batuk sighed at the sight.
"Here." He pulled his handkerchief out from his pocket and rolled it in his palm as he extended the loose end towards Mira.
"Hold this..."

Mira looked up once at him, and looked away, only to steal another shy glance back. She hesitated for a moment before grabbing the handkerchief and Batuk smiled gently at her.

"I'm not touching you Mira, as promised, but don't do anything that'd compel me to break it." He gestured at the tiny droplets of  blood oozing from the scrape on her elbow, and Mira covered it immediately with her saree.

"I'll get you a tape. Let's first find our cabin inside, alright?" He exhaled.

The train bogie was shiny olive green in colour, with golden handles and frames, with an abundance of wooden framework everywhere.

These British people are obsessed with our timbers!
Batuk rubbed his forehead in revulsion, as he helped Mira step up the narrow footway of the train.

"Walk to your left." He showed her the narrow carpeted corridor leading to the first class cabin, and Mira looked around in awe.
It wasn't anything like before. The extravagance of the ornamentation only suited for royalties like Batakrishna Babu himself. Mira gasped, covering her mouth with her saree and her eyes turned to look at the man, now busy instructing the porters to board the luggages inside the compartment.

Mahamaya was at a stall nearby, probably buying something, at it was then that a mild ruckus caught her attention.

"How dare you! filthy native Indian!"
A middle aged red necked man with a checked suit and a square hat was tapping his walking stick infront of Batuk, both standing on the platform near the narrow door of the first class bogie.

"Last time in asking you, do you have a first class ticket?" Batuk was already rolling his sleeves up, his eyes darted on the man.

"You bloody asking me for a ticket?" The man was roaring with equal beef.
"Do you know who I am?" He shouted, turning bright red, and Batuk narrowed his angry eyes at him.

"I don't think I need to... Do you have a first class ticket?" His voice was firm and tough, and the man raised his stick at him.
Batuk had promptly caught hold of it, making the Britisher step back a little in astounding indignation.
No one, on one had ever dared to speak to him like this in India, and now this young barbarian...
The man was shaking in anger and it was then that a uniformed British officer approached the duo with a fat ruler in hand.

"Damn you Batakrishna!" Mahamaya was quietly watching them from a distance, marveling at the strength with which Batuk was resisting the white man, but not anymore, as the arrival of the British police threatened to escalate the matter beyond reconciliation.

"Sir... Sir... So sorry sir..."
Mahamaya almost sprinted towards the door, putting herself in between Batuk and the two British men.
"I can explain..." She panted.

"Explain?" The first man raised his voice.
"I bloody don't want any explanation." He turned to look at his fellow white man and spoke in a comparatively softer tone.
"Officer, would you have them thrown out of this cabin please... These bloody Indians!" He growled, and sensing another rising growl from behind, Mahamaya held Batuk's fisted hands at once.

"My good sir... Please... Listen to us once. This man here, he's a doctor... And he's forbidding you to enter inside for a very good reason." She paused, gaining attention from both the men at the word 'doctor'.
"Good sir, if you see inside, there is a woman seated already, his patient, and we are taking her to Chattagram for treatment."

"What treatment?"
The white man spat out the words.

"Bo...Boshonto!"
Mahamaya leaned a little forward and hushed the word dramatically.

"What?" The man frowned, but the British police had already stepped a good few steps back from them.

"Holy Mary and Jesus Christ!"
He almost screamed, pulling the other man by his shirt.

"What again?" The man looked visibly vexed and surprised at the same time.

"Pox, Sir... They meant the bloody Pox!" The police let out a cry.
"They infected the bloody cabin now!"
He screamed, and along with him screamed the white man, terror written all over his red face, and Mahamaya faked a sob infront of them.

"So, if you would please excuse us now good sir... The patient is very... very critical."

"Where is she now?" The police gulped yet shouted the question, and it was then, as if by a divine dramatic intervention, Mira pulled the window pane opening it from inside, the white saree covered her face entirely, with only  one eye and her fingers visible to their sight, gripping the iron grills lightly.

"Choto Zamindar Babu... Where is your medicine box kept?"Mira had called out, her eyes straining to see a full view of him standing below, yet out of her sight, and suddenly a glint of mischievousness sparkled in Batuk's eyes.

"Why? I'll do the treatment." He shouted back.

"No..." Came a prompt reply, and in question, Batuk shouted again.

"Is it because you don't want me to touch you?"

A few seconds of silence prevailed, with the two British men standing with overtly widened eyes, and suddenly a soft monosyllabic reply came from inside.

"Yes."

The word has indeed poured an entire jar of gasoline in the sparks of fear inciting inside the core of those two white men, and needless to mention, even the last of their traces vanished away not only from that particular compartment, but from the very same platform where the carriage was stationed.

"Well... Well... Mira saves the day!"
Mahamaya breathed out, helping herself step up inside the narrow footwork of the train, and Batuk stood behind, guiding her from a fall.

"You too Maha... Where did you learn to do this?"
Batuk was smiling, his face stretched in awe at this brave witty woman, yet simple in her conduct and Mahamaya turned to look at him.

"I learnt it from someone special, a brother actually... He'd always employ this technique to get rid of unnecessary interventions."

Batuk widened his eyes.
"Wow."
He too got up inside the train, following the woman walking ahead through the corridor, as his eyes narrowed at the deep scar partially visible on her back where the hem of her blouse had ended.

"You know, I too know someone who would do this..."

"Really? Who?" Maha didn't turn, but threw the question lightly at him, as she pushed the wooden door of their alloted first class cabin to open it.

"A senior from medical College." Batuk chuckled in light-heartedness, as his eyes failed to notice the subtle smile that played on Maha's lips at his words.

"Mira... " Mahamaya smiled brightly, securing a seat to her opposite by the window, and Mira pulled her legs up on the seat, hurling her knees to her chest.

"Seat properly please." Batuk hushed, and Mira frowned at him.

"I'm sitting properly."

"I mean sit like how she's sitting." He raised his brows to point at Mahamaya, now seated with her feet nearly placed infront, on the carpeted wooden floor, and following his gaze Mira narrowed her eyes at once.

"But I'm comfortable this way." She murmured, clutching her knees tighter, and Batuk let out a soft sigh, realising the futility of his advice.

The walls were decorated with varnished wooden planks, with painted pictures of British railway carriages hanging on one side. There were gas lamps too, hanging in brass stands right above the two windows overlooking the platform. The bunkers were four in number, a replicated upper and lower berth on both sides with dark green soft leather seats. Thick bright green curtains hung from slings from the top berths, and placing his handbag on the top bunker above Mahamaya, Batuk casted his eyes down to decide where to sit.

Maha was smiling at this sweet indecisiveness, definitely not oblivious to the suppressed tension between the two. Her eyes didn't miss the swiftness with which Mira readily keep her potli beside, blocking Batuk's seat, and Maha pressed her lips in a smirk and patted the seat beside her.

"Seat here Batakrishna Babu... It's comfortable." She remarked. 

Batuk pursed his lips in a subtle disappointed, but without any further ado he settled down beside Mahamaya, keeping adequate distance, yet his eyes stealing glances at the woman sitting infront.

The train hadn't started yet, and hurling her knees Mira was swaying gently, as if in pretence of the forthcoming rhythmic rocking of the vehicle.
She too was stealing swift glances at Batuk, but the veil of white saree on her face provided her with the much needed sanctuary from getting caught.

Mahamaya noticed that too.

"So Batakrishna Babu, let's say my man doesn't come to receive me at Chattagram, then what next? Should we just go back and marry?"
Mahamaya pressed her lips to hide a smirk, as she rolled her eyes to speak the words.

"What? Well... "
Her words had caught Batuk off guard, and he almost jumped up to take a good look at the woman sitting beside.
Mahamaya was smiling at him, and a well defined glance at her eyes gave Batuk the hint of mischievousness that she was upto.

"Well, I'd, if Mira agrees." Batuk smirked too.

"So Mira?" Maha had now leaned forward, her eyes bearing deep into Mira's brown orbs, and Mira casted her gaze down in discomfiture.
"Would you approve of me marrying your Choto Zamindar Babu?" Her voice was heavy, and Mira started to fidget with her fingers uncomfortably.

"Would you love him?"
She suddenly murmured, and Maha raised an eyebrow at this sudden bravery, feeling considerably amusing at this

"I would, if he does." Maha smirked, as leaning back once again she placed her hand on Batakrishna's right palm.

The touch had startled him, but more, it had startled Mira, who now with widened eyes and gaped mouth was staring at their joined hands.

"What's say Batakrishna Babu? Would you love me?"
Maha asked him with a quizzical look on her face. However, her eyes were still on Mira, and Batuk smirked at the question.

"Would you cook for me? I love to eat."
He asked instead, and Maha let out a loud gasp.

"I'd love to... What do you like to eat?"

"Payesh", came a prompt reply, but not from Batuk, but from Mira, who covered her mouth right after the word had slipped her lips.

"Oho... Payesh is it?" Maha rolled her eyes mischievously.
"Then I'd fed you too."

Batuk didn't reply, instead he was laughing silently at this amusing exchange, as one sharp glance from Mira  narrowed eyes made his expression turn grave once again, compelling him to clear his throat and remove his hand away from Maha's grip.

But why was Mira even bothered if she had so sworn to be away from him?
Why should she care now?
And, why was he so concerned about if she cares?

"Would you sing for me Maha?" Batuk forced the question, pushing the topic further, his gaze now fixated at Mira's agitated expression, as Maha let out a sharp chuckle, leaning her head on his shoulder with a teasing intention.

"I'd love to... And I'd learn to play Ektara as well, only if you want..." She murmured, but loud enough for Mira to hear.
"Mira... Would you teach me?"

"No!" Came another abrupt reply, her lips pursed into a childish annoyance, and unable to content her laughter any longer, Maha rolled down on Batuk's shoulder.

"Batakrishna Babu, thank you for coming with me, this last dose of laughter was really needed." She chuckled and sat upright.

"Last dose of laughter? As in?" Batuk asked, and before Maha could reply, they both were perturbed by a sharp cry, as if syncing with the hissing whistle marking the start of the journey.

"Wha..." Maha jumped up.

The train had just started to rattle, the wheels moving with a yank and a jolt, jouncing the passengers seated inside. Both Batuk and Maha had clutched on to the brass handle bars instinctively, barring Mira. Unable to control the inertia of motion, not to mention her mind swimming in the ocean of possessive thoughts, Mira, who was sitting with her legs gathered on the seat, without a support, had toppled down, rolling on the ground in between the seats.
She cried out, and Maha stood up in an impulse, so did Batuk, but before he could comprehend the situation, he felt a sharp tug at his shirt.

"Ouch... Oh! Maa go..."

Mira shirked and so did Batuk, as while falling down she had stretched her hands to grab and grip Batuk for support, but not his hand, but abdomen, tearing away a portion of his shirt from the midriff, making him lose his balance.

"Mira..." Batuk gasped, and as she fell on the floor, he landed right on top of her, his face clashing on hers, his hand crushing her chest, his legs pressing on her soft thighs.

"Damn!" Batuk cursed under his breath, feeling the burn on his own elbow, and their foreheads collided against each other's.

"Ouch!" Mira murmured.

The train had paced to its full capacity, a fraction of a minute, and that's when Batuk pulled his head up to take a good look at Mira, her eyes searching for something in his face, her lips speaking words only he could hear. The sheath on her forehead had fallen off, their bodies crushing in a heap, and suddenly Batuk felt his emotions telling him that he needed more, or may be she needed it more than him, though he guessed in reality it'd be both of them. Her eyes were so different in moments like these, more soft than Batuk knew eyes could be, and his orbs reciprocated to that softness in a heartbeat. The impulsive short tempered man was gone, and instead it was the eyes of one who loved deeply.
Of everything, Mira had reached out for him for support, and it was enough for his heart to beat faster.
Batuk was breathing hard. If it were anyone else he would have dropped his gaze, but with Mira he was drawn in closer, always wanting more.

Mira stirred under him, yet not attempting to move him away, and then he said the words she need to hear,

"Are you alright Mira? Are you hurt?"

His words were tender, and she just nodded, taking in every moment for her memory, knowing it was the medication she needed to survive the next phase of her life, the phase where his presence perhaps wouldn't be welcomed.

Mira swallowed a hard lump, drops of emotions forming in her eyes. In all the world there wasn't another like him, who would care for her, but yet she knew they can never be together.
The budding drop rolled down her eyes, fading into her hairline, and Batuk narrowed his gentle gaze, his fingers promptly moving up to wipe it.

"Let me get up." He hushed, and with one hand grabbed the leather seat. Mahamaya helped in pulling him up at once.

Mira too tried to sit upright, rubbing her elbows with her palm, and then her forehead, and Batuk pulled her up by her arm.

"Sit properly Mira, legs down, and hold this rod." He hushed, but it was much more softer this time.
"I don't want you to fall down again."

Mira sat down quietly, thoughtful, and instead of taking his old seat, Batuk moved beside her. Mira moved her small potli at once.
No rejection, no inhibition, but the pure primal need of being close to each other in times of discomfort guided them both.

Mahamaya chuckled at the sight.

"You know Batakrishna Babu... we, human beings are strange creatures", she sighed, looking out of the window, her vacant eyes fixated on the receding greenary outside.
"We know what we want, yet afraid to stretch our arms to reach for it...". She paused and smiled, "yet when we do, we realise that time had played us, time plays us all Batakrishna Babu..." she breathed out loud and closed her eyes, her head rested on the leathered backrest now.
"But one thing... when two souls are drawn to each other, and they have this undeniable feeling like once upon another reality they were soul mates... They should fight time to win against it... Else, a life long regret would haunt and hunt them down..."

Maha paused, and Batuk frowned at her words with a sombre graveness in his face.
"Are you regretting?" He asked softly, and Maha just smiled a little.

"Not a bit... Given a chance I'd chose him in every life Batakrishna Babu." She opened her eyes and there were hints of tears in them.
"All these... What are these if not for him?" She chuckled, and looked away, causing a sharp twitch in Batuk's heart.

Why is this woman so different? Is that such grave a pain what she's hiding in her? Is it just love? Or...

Batuk sighed softly, and then  turned to look beside, feeling a gentle tug at his shirt sleeve.
Mira was careful not to touch him properly.

"What is she saying?" Mira's lips had formed a pout laced with confusion. Maha's deep words had failed to penetrate her simple heart, yet her deep sorrow had touched her soul.

"Nothing much..." Batuk smiled gently in response. "She's saying if you want someone, you should fight to get that person before it's too late."

"Then why's she crying?"
Mira lowered her voice and hushed, unable to fathom the depth of the words, and in return Batuk pulled out his handkerchief once again to wipe the dried strain of tear from the corner of her eyes.

"Because, she doesn't have her 'someone' to wipe those tears for her." He murmured.

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