“I know about being left behind” I said in the quiet of my room, the curtain drawn.
In the platform of a partially crowded railway station in Kuala Lumpur under the Moorish arch, we rushed to say what we could not finish the last couple of days in breathless whisper. Our eyes kept darting back to the train waiting on the track. We both knew when she climbed in, we can never return to the type of relationship we had. And when we meet again as we surely will, there will be an unbridgeable gap between us.
She reached out to hold my hand. She was always the strong one. I was concerned. What if someone recognized us? As she applied a gentle squeeze, I admired her strength. She was always truer to her feelings and I was a little ashamed. I had a rush of feeling. I wanted to hug and pressed her against my breast but I did nothing. Her eyes watered. She released one hand to rub them and then assured me that she was alright. I did not know what to say or do. I was an idiot.
If I wanted to do anything drastic, that was the time. Was she waiting for me to ask her to stay? And if I did, what would she say? Maybe, I should ask anyway. At least, it will make her happy that I asked. But what if she says yes? That thought frightened me for suddenly all the problems associated with that decision rained down on me. My shoulders felt the weight and they sagged.
I was saved by the whistle. “Love is not everything” I told myself. Passengers were scrambling on board. She was squeezing my hands so hard they hurt. Soon, we were the only ones left standing. There were curious looks from those on the benches waiting for the next train and passengers who had already found their seats. “She had no future with me”. The conductor moved along the train and blew his whistle again impatiently. She bent over and kissed me on the cheek. I had not expected that. She was crying again.
She climbed hurriedly on board the last segment. One hand holding the railing, the other waving as the train slowly moved away. I waved back and kept waving till it disappeared. Then I was left with my guilt, unable to move away from the spot, eyes fixed on an empty track.
I grew silent as I relived the past. I would have prefer to indulge in it a bit more but the old ghost intruded with a disturbing question – “She left you that day. But did she leave you or did you leave her?”
I became angry. That was an unfair. I suffered too. It was for her good. We would not be able to make it work. I was going to go on with a thousand reasons but I suddenly became tired. Over the years, I have tried convincing myself hundreds of time that we, I made the right decision. If I cannot convince myself, how can I convince a ghost?
I fell into silence again. And the ghost and I nursed our private thoughts in the silent, empty room as the night closes in.
In the platform of a partially crowded railway station in Kuala Lumpur under the Moorish arch, we rushed to say what we could not finish the last couple of days in breathless whisper. Our eyes kept darting back to the train waiting on the track. We both knew when she climbed in, we can never return to the type of relationship we had. And when we meet again as we surely will, there will be an unbridgeable gap between us.
She reached out to hold my hand. She was always the strong one. I was concerned. What if someone recognized us? As she applied a gentle squeeze, I admired her strength. She was always truer to her feelings and I was a little ashamed. I had a rush of feeling. I wanted to hug and pressed her against my breast but I did nothing. Her eyes watered. She released one hand to rub them and then assured me that she was alright. I did not know what to say or do. I was an idiot.
If I wanted to do anything drastic, that was the time. Was she waiting for me to ask her to stay? And if I did, what would she say? Maybe, I should ask anyway. At least, it will make her happy that I asked. But what if she says yes? That thought frightened me for suddenly all the problems associated with that decision rained down on me. My shoulders felt the weight and they sagged.
I was saved by the whistle. “Love is not everything” I told myself. Passengers were scrambling on board. She was squeezing my hands so hard they hurt. Soon, we were the only ones left standing. There were curious looks from those on the benches waiting for the next train and passengers who had already found their seats. “She had no future with me”. The conductor moved along the train and blew his whistle again impatiently. She bent over and kissed me on the cheek. I had not expected that. She was crying again.
She climbed hurriedly on board the last segment. One hand holding the railing, the other waving as the train slowly moved away. I waved back and kept waving till it disappeared. Then I was left with my guilt, unable to move away from the spot, eyes fixed on an empty track.
I grew silent as I relived the past. I would have prefer to indulge in it a bit more but the old ghost intruded with a disturbing question – “She left you that day. But did she leave you or did you leave her?”
I became angry. That was an unfair. I suffered too. It was for her good. We would not be able to make it work. I was going to go on with a thousand reasons but I suddenly became tired. Over the years, I have tried convincing myself hundreds of time that we, I made the right decision. If I cannot convince myself, how can I convince a ghost?
I fell into silence again. And the ghost and I nursed our private thoughts in the silent, empty room as the night closes in.
To be continued...
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