The old train creaked a little as it crawled to stop at one of those deserted railway stations. It seemed to be an old village railway station, with not much people around. Even the crow that sat over the debilitated table seemed to be bored. A lanky stout man, with salt and pepper hair stepped into the train. He seemed to be in his early fifties. He wore crumbled shirt that needed washing and ironing at the earliest! He looked around for a seat and saw a vacant seat near the rustic old window. He sat down heavily and looked around. The passengers in the seat near him, seemed to ignore his presence.

The train creaked and started off again with a long hoot. He rested his arms over the window rails. The rusty blue paint seemed to peel off from the window rails. He gazed outside the train. The bustling leaves seemed to mock him. Unable to withstand it, he closed his eyes tightly hoping to fall asleep. But, even sleep seemed to deprive him. His memories began to drift away. The mind was a puddle of long lost memories that still seemed to be fresh surprisingly.

A few drops of water fell on his face. The fresh aroma of jasmine flowers wafted through the air and filled his nostrils. He jolted up, with blood draining off from his face. Could she be here? No! That was just a jasmine plant over there! It was raining heavily. The passengers around him stared at him wondering what could be wrong with him. With a sheepish grin he mumbled something about a bad dream and the passengers turned back their attention to their mobiles and magazines.

The rain fell over his face. The smell of jasmine flowers lingered in the cabin. Hey! A young man with irritation written all over his face poked his elbow. He looked at the visibly angry young man. Can you please close the window panes? The rain is spoiling my dress! He said, wiping off the water drops from his crisp cream branded shirt. Sorry! He mumbled under his breath and closed the panes shut. Still, the sound of rumbling rain drops against the rustic old train was clearly heard.

He slowly shut his eyes again, unable to bear the voice of rain. Even the sound of rain seemed to poke him and hurt him. A plethora of memories engulfed him again. The memories seemed to push him deep inside pits. Even those pits smelled of jasmine flowers. He used to hate the smell of jasmine flowers. It gave him headache! He was so averse of the smell that he used to change his seat in the local bus if any woman wearing jasmine sat next to his seat. But, she changed it! Now, he is mad about the lingering smell of jasmine. He runs behind the whiff of jasmine hoping to find her somewhere, even though deep inside he knew, she was gone forever!

She used to tie jasmine around her curly long hair. Even-though he asked her repeatedly to stop wearing it, she never obliged. She had strong decisions and always stood by it. Secretly, he admired her strong personality. When he wakes up in the morning, the crushed jasmine flowers seemed to tell tales of passionate love. That is when he began to love jasmine flowers. The blooming jasmine flowers seemed to be her messengers. They seemed to whisper in his ears that she is coming soon.

The sound of street vendors quarreling over something broke him from his dreams. The rain has subsided. He pulled the panes up and gazed outside. Yes! A group of street vendors were quarreling in some unknown language. His thoughts drifted back to the days when quarrels became so common between them. They quarreled over petty things, things which seemed to be so silly now! But, he was irascible at that age. The boiling rage that comes with adulthood; or rather the hormones that told him, he is no longer young, he was an adult who can conquer the world!

One day, the quarrels were so much that her kajal was all over her face with tears streaming down like hot drops of pain. In a sudden urge of anger, she pulled apart the jasmine flowers from her hair and threw it on his face. She shouted good bye and left! He threw away the jasmine and crushed it under his feet. The jasmine that crushed in the whirlwind of passionate love was now crushed under the streaks of anger! Little did he know that was the last day he would see her! Little did he know that he would never smell jasmine flowers like he did before! Why did they argue? He couldn’t even remember the reason! All he could remember was the crushed jasmines and her lifeless body recovered by the police. She seemed calm and composed, covered up with jasmine flowers on her funeral.

The train creaked to a stop and he woke up with a startle. The cabin seemed to be empty. He stood up, unaware of where he was heading. He got down at the stop and looked around. The smell of blooming jasmine flowers seemed to welcome him. He reached out to grab a few flowers and breathe in the aroma. Uncle! Can you give me those flowers? A Little girl tugged his shirt. He looked down to catch a glimpse of a cute little girl with her hands outstretched. I love wearing jasmine on my hair. She gushed to him with eyes that sparkled with joy. He smiled, maybe the first smile after years of remorse! As he gave the flowers to the little girl and saw her hopping around wearing it on her head, his heart suddenly felt light. The sun rised above his head. The nature seemed to murmur, time heals!

This is purely a work of fiction! Not a real life story!


  1. Chechi this is so brilliant… I got the feeling of reading a novel…. I think you should write one… this is really impressive. I feel a change in this one maybe it is because it’s your first piece of fiction.

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