Nosebleed

Running past green shrubbery, it hoots its horn. The sound seems so distant. It is almost hard to believe that I am a part of the entity that makes this long low distant hum. Horizontal bars dotted with rust hinder my otherwise panoramic view of a lazy dull green field with palm trees in the background. As it gathers a sudden spurt of speed, the foliage and the ground appear to blur and shoot past me. A lone brown track with cross bars joins our journey out of nowhere. It seems dedicated and stubborn, refusing to let us go out of sight.

On my left, an eight year old boy lolls around restless. He tries sitting still but his hormones won’t let him. He gazes past me to notice the sudden appearance of a few stray houses next to the determined track. It holds his interest for a while, but providing no content for his vivid and active imagination relinquishes hold of his gaze and his mind. He then picks up a scrap of old newspaper lying next to a sixty plus something old man sitting to his left, rolls it up and peers out the window through one end of the rolled up sheaf of newspaper placed on one of the bars. He is happy; he has made a telescope or something similar that his mind conjured up. The old man sips his coffee, okay, a coffee variant with a lot of water and a little milk added to a pinch of adulterated coffee powder. This is coffee here.

A man opposite to me flips through a magazine he has bought for the journey, pausing at a page long enough for me to confirm my suspicions of it containing a picture of a scantily clad member of the opposite sex and a little article, totally irrelevant, accompanying it.

A loud voice reaches my ears. A guy strolls down the cluttered aisle trying to sell his wares. He carries on a practiced monologue convincing a few passengers to buy in the process. He reaches my compartment and shouts “Nursery Rhymes, Toys!!” He rotates a weird thing that makes a squeaky sound. The kid next to me looks up excitedly. The different colors and the man’s gracious attitude allure him. He flinches involuntarily; half rises and provides an expectant and imploring look at his mom. A glare from her shatters his hopes and another, silences his mouth which was opening up for a quick wail. He sits down hard, scowling. The man selling the toys realizing the failure of his enticement tactics sighs and continues past our niche.

* * *

It rumbles past fast. Parched ground and brown hills come into view. Goats and a few huts find a place in this scene. A little temple with bright alternating red and white stripes appears and stays for a time brief before we whiz by it.

I feel a tug on my arm. I look down to see the kid’s hand on mine. I raise my head a little and look into his face. He holds my gaze for a few seconds before asking in a small voice

“Anna, what happened to your nose?”

I open my mouth to reply but a thunderous rumble startles me. I turn around and see a rust colored goods train rushing past us through the window. I subconsciously start counting the carriages. When the last coach disappeared from my sight, I turn back to face the kid.

“37” he says.

I blink for a moment. “36” I say. He seems to accept it. I was no great shakes in mathematics and in all possibility I was more likely the one who was wrong but my ego wouldn’t allow me to admit that. Instead I nod to him reassuringly as if to encourage him to get it right the next time.

He repeats his earlier question “Your nose is red. What happened?”

I answer “It’s a long story.”

He continues to stare inquisitively awaiting a more detailed report on the matter.

I ask him “You coming from Coimbatore?”

“Yes anna, I came to visit my thatha. He is sick. ” He points to the old man on his left.

His mom looks up from her book to scrutinize me, curious as to whom her son was sharing this apparently semi classified information with. My innocuous countenance and seemingly innocent exterior puts her suspicions to rest and she returns to her book.

“Well, I got a nosebleed” I tell him.

“Oh. How come na? Did you fall?” he asks.

A smile plays into my lips.

“No, it is due to a small fight.”

“Oh.”

He stays quiet for a while, then turns around to face me and asks “How did it happen?”

Well I realize that I have no other option but to tell him the story.

I stare at the opposite seat not seeing anything for a few moments, recollecting my thoughts, recalling the events that morning prior to my boarding the train.

“My house is in Madras. I am going home today.” I begin abruptly. Not a lot of sense in these words but I was just getting started.

The kid nods his head expecting more.

I continue “Well I had packed my bags and was ready to leave for the station from my hostel. I was walking to the bus stop when I saw a lady speaking on a cell phone. Holding her hand is a little girl about your age.”

“She was dribbling a bright green tennis ball. On one occasion it bounced high and she missed it. The ball dashed across the road and the girl ran fast to catch it. From the opposite side I saw a huge bus hurtling down the road. The girl didn’t see it. She reaches for the ball which had rolled to a stop. Her mom saw the scene and realized the gravity of the situation only when she had just hung up the call and was looking around for her kid. It was obvious that the bus would reach the girl before she could. I was closer to the girl. The bus was hardly two meters away and not stopping. I pounced on the kid. Grabbed her from behind and rolled down the road. Bam!! ” I pause.

He jumps up excitedly shouting “What happened? What happened then??.”

I smile. He pants “You saved her? She is all right la? You hit the ground and got the nose bleed right?” he asks inquiringly.

I remain quiet. After a moment, “Yes, I saved her but no I didn’t get hurt. I didn’t get the nosebleed that way. I just rolled away smoothly, the bus missing us by inches.” I depict the narrow margin of escape with my hands.

“But nothing hit us. I just got dirty.” I point to my shirt.

His face lights up in relief. He looks at the dirty creases across my light blue shirt and cracks into a smile, reconstructing the sequence of events in his mind.

After an entire minute of silence he asks again “So then… Nosebleed eppadi?”

“Well my bus arrived and I managed to crash through the crowd and found a spot to stand inside.” I continue.

He sits down again and listens to me with rapt attention.

“The bus makes its slow tortuous way winding through the ‘hardly there’ roads. Finally it reached the RS stop. I got down with much difficulty having to shout out and push my way past at least ten men between me and the exit. I walked into the station.I stopped to look at the board that charts the arrival and departure timings. My immediate destination was platform three. I walk down the ramp and head to platform three through the passage that leads to it. A recent arrival at platform four led to a strong crowd moving in the opposite direction. I struggled to make my way past the people who were scampering out like a pack of rats. Pushing relentlessly and inching forward slowly I reach my target. I found that my train hadn’t arrived yet.”

I could see I was boring the kid and decide to narrate faster. I feel a sudden hot tingling sensation on my neck. I turn around to catch the setting rays of the sun direct. It clouds my vision for a moment. I squint through the brightness. A few seconds elapse and I get back my compromised vision. I see everything in a yellow hue. We had changed direction somewhere and I realize we were slowing down now. The lone track isn’t alone anymore. It joins its friends and entwines with them gladly to create a crisscross pattern of shining brown lines. A raised platform with a huge yellow board appears spelling out the station’s name.

“Coffee, Coffee, hot coffee!”

“Chai, masala chaaaaiiiii!”

Caffeine cries ring through the air. The kid tugs my arm again. I look down at him “One minute.”

I call out to a guy selling coffee. He darts quickly to my window and passes me a hot cup through the bars. I collect the cup and place it on the window sill, pass a ten rupee note to him, get back the change and resume my story.

“Well where was I? Oh yeah… the platform. I was standing at the platform, looking at the empty tracks. I got a magazine from a nearby book stall and a water bottle. There was a resounding low whistle. Our train was moving slowly into the station. A massive crowd had gathered to fight entry into the unreserved compartment. People were jostling each other in the mad hurry to find a place to sit.”

As I was making my way through the ‘orderly’ crowd, I felt someone reach into my pant pocket and it wasn’t for ‘fun’! I whirled around to find a dark, burly guy desperately trying to be adroit and extract my wallet without disturbing me from my work. He was so involved he didn’t even notice that I had stopped and was actually gaping at his antics for a few seconds now.” I stop.

“What?? What happened then?” The kid asks exuding impatience.

“It was only when I caught his hand and shouted for help that he realized that he had failed this mission, poor fellow. Bidding for a miraculous escape he pushed me against the book stall hard and started running. I lost my balance and fell, twisting in the last minute out of reflex to break my fall. I succeeded in breaking the fall but I hit my face against the edge of the wooden stand. I could feel something warm running down my nose.”

“It broke your nose!” the kid cries out ecstatically. I hope the reason for his glee is due to the fact that he finally found the answer to his rather simple question posed hours earlier. I nod amused and continue.

“I was kind of mad by now and gave chase. People were looking at us in a bemused way. I caught up with him. Grabbed his collar from behind and aimed a kick behind his knees. He buckled and went rolling. I pounced on him and held him down. By this time people realized what was happening and two police men who had appeared from amidst the crowd apprehended him. Well I checked my wallet to see if it was still safe and boarded the train. Now here I am telling you this.”

I conclude.

The kid, full of zeal, looks at me in amazement. Well this is the sort of stuff he reads in tinkle. “Super anna! You are great. Wish I could have hit him too.”

Well I guess an eight year old boy can’t be sarcastic. I was thankful that my humble façade, a lean wimpy physique with a small paunch in the offing didn’t detract the credibility of the story and deter his opinion about the narrated events!

The kid wakes his sleeping granddad and starts narrating the story to the dazed old man. A grin creeps into my face and I turn around to look out the window. It is almost dark outside. Well I had passed nearly two hours of this tedious journey entertaining an eight year old with the events of the day.

Somehow I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was suffering from a severe cold and that just before I started from my hostel I had blown my nose too hard, ruptured a stray vessel and bled profusely or that I had tripped on a questionable packet and fallen down trying to catch the bus which was leaving the bus stop or that an intelligent thief with nimble hands had relieved me of my empty purse when I had gaily boarded the train.

Well after all he is an eight year old kid. He doesn’t need a reality check that will stunt his imagination.

He has all the time in the world to learn that life in its own inexorable way will make you fall flat on your face, proceed to kick you when you are down before picking you up and elevating you to greater heights.

Once again I feel that small tug on my arm… I turn around and look into the black excited eyes of the kid, see little distorted images of my face in his pupils. He looks at me with awe. He stretches his hands wide and asks “Was he this big anna?”

I grin and nod at him, my eyes twinkling. Its dark outside and there is a booming whistle in the distance.