NAYANTARA & NEELANJAN CHAPTER 2

She questioned back, “Confused?”
I replied, “Yes, you are confusing me.”
“How can you say that?” she inquired back.
Looking at her face, I thought as if I knew her from years.
She had a round face, a little chubby one with dimples getting formed whenever she smiled occasionally.
I could see how her face kept animating every time she uttered one word after the other.
Finding it irresistible, I once again asked her, “Why are you calling me Neelanjan?”
She replied back, “I thought you are Neelanjan because I don’t really know what your name is.”
Later she continued that there was nothing wrong in creating an imaginary name for a stranger.
For the first time I was looking at a girl who didn’t know me nor my name and nor did she know where did I come from. But she had already established a wonderful connection by simply giving me a new identity, a new name – Neelanjan.
I felt I would really want to know this woman who somehow had protected me from putting an end to an otherwise lonely life of mine. I therefore decided to end all kind of strange thoughts that had started corrupting my mind. Even though I was poised to leave this world, she had in a flash, brought me back.
I asked her as to why she had to save my life?
Gracious she was and equally intelligent was her reply.
“I couldn’t see the grief on your face Neelanjan”, she said with little amount of seriousness on her glowing face.
“But how do you know, I am unhappy?” I inquired ironically.
She continued, “I saw you walking at a pace, which was not at all a good sign of happiness.”
She added further, “At the corner of the Air India building you stood for some while then turned back. When the signal went green, I saw you almost cheating the maddening barrage of vehicles chasing towards the suburbs. Every sign of your movement gave out negative vibes that you just don’t want to live anymore.”
Those were the moments, which I didn’t even recollect but had caught the mysterious lady’s attention. My restless actions had prompted her to stop me and address me by some name.
“Not knowing your name, I just thought of calling you Neelanjan”, she said.
By the time she had completed saying this, I had come back to the real world. Suddenly the sounds of blaring South Mumbai traffic made me realize that I had finally renounced my decision of leaving this world. The sound of sea waves from the Arabian Sea seemed melodious now.
Now I knew it was my turn to tell her my real name. I interrupted her and continued.
“I am Abhiroop”, I told her.
“Lovely name and I am now eager to know your surname”, she said.
“Abhiroop Dhreetiman Mukherjee”, I completed myself.
“Bhalo Khoob Bhalo. So you are a Bengali Babu Mashai?” she inquired teasingly.
Sheepishly I told her about my Bengali origins and that I lived alone at a suburb far away. She still insisted, “Tell me where you live Mr. Abhiroop?”
I requested her not to address me as Mister and just call me Abhiroop. I later told her that I stayed at Jogeshwari. I also told her that my apartment was located at a miserable place surrounded by cattle sheds and sweat shops of small time leather goods manufacturers.
After a lengthy round of conversations, I somehow realized that not for once had I inquired about her name.
Though I never believed in being shy, I still had to muster the courage to ask her name.
“Nayantara”, she replied back instantly.
My name is Nayantara she said and continued that she is very much a town side girl. She told me Nayantara is her real name and no imagination.
She then said, “Abhiroop, do you mind me calling you by the name of Neelanjan, I some how like it. Maybe it suits you!”
I had no reason to avoid her request.
I told her, “Strange. But I like it. You can call me Neelanjan.”
Memorizing the name in my mind, I felt that this name really was impressive.
I then started looking at Nayantara. She was every bit of a woman, I always imagined of being my life partner. She was dressed in a mustard yellow salwar kameez. She had no glasses to protect her eyes but I somehow felt she wore lenses. Her hair was not so long just limited to her shoulders. Her cute nose was festooned with a small nose ring that had some colorful beads weaved together. She wore long earrings. Around her neck, she wore a lovely piece of maroon color beads that was adorned with a cute little pendant, which somehow ended her making like a diva. On her left wrist was a Fastrack 'Elegant Collection' watch. Her right wrist displayed a splash of vibrancy. I noticed how beautifully she had decorated it with three thick sized bangles of mustard yellow color (which matched her salwar kameez), two medium sized bangles of maroon color (which matched the color of beads around her neck) and two slightly thinner sized bangles of black color. The nail paint she had applied matched the mustard yellow salwar kameez that she was wearing. The upper portion of her eye lids looked extremely attractive because of the thin eye liner that she seemed to have applied with geometrical and symmetrical perfection.
I was totally lost in her and all the words she might have continued saying me in my subconscious state of gazing at her seemed to have evaporated in the thin layer of Mumbai’s fresh air.
Unable to hold back my excitement to have met this goodwill ambassador, I asked her if she knew the meaning of Neelanjan.
“That is what you are supposed to know Abhiroop”, she replied back.
But I would like to address you as Neelanjan was what she stressed like she never was a stranger to me.
I told her I shall definitely find the meaning of it.
“It will have a very Bhalo meaning Neelanjan”, she once again said smiling mischievously this time.
I asked her in a hurried pace, “When can we meet again Nayantara?”
Without a hint of hesitation she replied, “Tomorrow evening, same place at 7.30 pm.”
I asked her that how should I trust her?
“Neelanjan. You will come and you will find me here. You might not be saying it but your eyes tell me, you will want to come here tomorrow. I myself am sure, you will come. I will come and you will treat me to a delectable spread of continental food at The Trident that stands there illuminated”, she replied confidently.
I told her, I would definitely look forward to meet her.
I looked at my watch. It ticked 11.30 pm. I knew I had very less time left to board a train to that sweating suburb of Jogeshwari.
I turned at Nayantara and asked her, “Will you be traveling alone and won’t you be late or feel a bit scared about?”
“No! Why should I Neelanjan? This is my city. I have grown up here. From my childhood days every corner of this city has embraced me. Just don’t worry about me. I shall spend some more time conversing with the sea. I do that every day Neelanjan. Now you should go home. Or else you will miss the train back home. You will miss coming back to office. If you don’t make it to office, would you like to keep Nayantara waiting for you”, she spoke back in one breath.
Smiling and eagerly wanting to know about Nayantara more, I called for a taxi. I jumped into it and the taxi sped towards the first turn at the traffic signal near the Ambassador hotel. I pulled out my mobile and looked at the time and suddenly I realized that I hadn’t asked Nayantara her mobile number. I requested the taxi driver to take a U-Turn and take me back to the spot where Nayantara and I last stood conversing. I stepped out of the taxi but couldn’t see Nayantara anywhere. I looked to my right and I looked to my left. I looked to my back and I kept looking around but she wasn’t there. I told myself that it might have been a dream or just an imagination. Putting my head down, I started walking back to the taxi. Suddenly I found something that lay down unattended on the hard stoned footpath. It was one of the beads Nayantara had worn around her neck. I quickly collected it and put it in my pocket. I climbed back into the taxi and told myself, “Abhiroop… Nah! Neelanjan, this was not a dream. Nayantara shall definitely wait for you tomorrow evening.”
The taxi came to a halt near Churchgate station. The police authorities were already yawning. The platforms were neither empty nor crowded. A Borivili bound slow train at a snail’s pace entered platform number four. I boarded the last gent’s compartment and looked out of the window. I was surprised to see Nayantara who waived her hand and bid me good bye!

End of Chapter 2

- vociferous