The Girl in the Train - PART I ( Some journeys begin without a destination)

It was 7.00 am in the morning.

The train had halted at a station. It was drizzling outside. It was such pleasant weather, the kind of weather where you would like to curl up in your blanket and sleep.

AC coaches had the luxury of adjusting the temperature according to the comfort of the passengers. However, for the non-AC coaches, nature was doing the same for them. Along with the slight drizzle, the pleasant wind that was blowing from time to time felt like it was taking care of the comfort of the passengers.

Most of the passengers in the train were still sleeping. However, the vendors outside the train were doing their best to wake up their potential customers.

Multiple tea vendors were hovering around outside and inside the coaches, trying to find passengers who might be interested in a hot cup of tea. They were not bothered that most of the passengers were sleeping. For them, it was a matter of bread and butter. This income helped them feed their families.

Life may not always be fair to them, but they had to make the best out of what life offered.

In competition with the tea vendors, breakfast vendors were also finding their way through the coaches, hoping to find customers.

When it comes to survival, nothing can stop a person from facing whatever life throws at them. Though it was raining, it couldn't stop the vendors from earning money for their families.

Things had become tougher for them.

Online food delivery and changing lifestyles had not only increased competition, but passengers nowadays often preferred ordering online instead of buying from these vendors whose daily earnings depended on the passengers travelling through the station.

Advanced technology may have made our lives easier, but it didn't necessarily stand true for these people.

Yet, here they were.

Trying to make the best out of what they had.

One such tea vendor was Dayaram.

His family had been tea vendors for generations. As long as he could remember, the railway station had been his second home.

He had seen his father and grandfather serving tea to passengers.

Being a tea vendor almost felt as if it was in his DNA.

It was not that he hated his job. In fact, he loved it, and he was really good at it.

The variety of tea he served was his speciality, but the warmth and kindness with which he served it made his tea even more special.

No matter how bad his day had been or what financial struggles he was facing, he ensured that he served fresh tea to his customers with a smile.

He took pride in his job.

He was not ashamed of it.

Instead, he was grateful because it was this job that brought food to his table and helped him feed his family.

He had a small shop at the railway station, but whenever a train arrived, he made sure that he personally went into the coaches to serve tea to the passengers.

He somehow managed to keep one helper who looked after his shop whenever he went inside the train.

As much as he loved preparing fresh tea for his customers, what gave him even more happiness was serving a hot cup of tea to someone.

He loved interacting with people.

He felt happy when passengers were kind enough to have a conversation with him.

Even without travelling the world, he always felt that talking to passengers from different parts of the country was like travelling around the world.

He loved hearing about their experiences and their lives.

Though he hadn't had the opportunity to complete his education, it had never stopped him from staying aware of what was happening around him.

He wasn't tech-savvy, but he loved reading the newspaper and keeping himself updated about the latest developments.

He could have a conversation with passengers about almost anything.

The irony was that he didn't meet such people every day.

There were days when no passenger was interested in talking to him. Some weren't even interested in buying tea. Sometimes all he received was a nod.

Sometimes, a rude no.

His earnings were not fixed.

His future was uncertain.

Yet none of that was enough to take away his positivity and gratitude.

He was content with what he earned, and his family never demanded more than he could afford.

Though he had not been able to complete his studies, he made sure his daughter, Siya, was never deprived of education.

She had completed her graduation and was now preparing for the UPSC examinations.

She was the best gift life had given him.

Since childhood, she had never demanded much. It was almost as if she had matured much before her age.

She started taking tuitions as soon as she could, helped her mother at home, and every night before going to sleep, she would sit with her father and ask him about his day.

She loved hearing his stories about the passengers.

His wife, Nirmala, was a content woman.

She had never demanded anything from him. No matter how difficult their life was, she always had a beautiful smile on her face.

She wasn't highly educated either, but she supported her husband at his shop and took care of their home.

They had one more person in their family.

She wasn't related to them by blood, but the bond they had developed was stronger than many blood relationships.

Her name was Jayanti.

The old woman had once opened a small shop next to Dayaram's.

Over time, she had become a part of Dayaram's family.

She had absolutely no one to look after her.

Since Dayaram had no elder in his family alive, he felt strangely connected to her, almost as if his mother had come back into his life in another form.

Sometimes, bonds of love are stronger than bonds of blood.

And sometimes, we find the most meaningful relationships in the most unexpected people.

Jayanti was also very fond of Dayaram.

After all, from the very first day they met, he had taken care of her more than her own son ever had.

She still remembered the day her own son had thrown her out of her house.

After her husband's sudden death, she had never imagined that her own son would do this to her.

He had cunningly convinced her to transfer her house in his name.

And once the house was legally his, it was only a matter of time before her son and daughter-in-law asked her to leave.

She had no money.

No home.

No relationship.

And one day, she reached a point where she felt there was nothing left for her.

When nobody was bothered by her presence, she wondered, how would her absence make any difference?

So, one night, she decided to end her life by coming in front of a train.

But as they say, when you think there is nothing left in your life, destiny sometimes has other plans.

That night, Dayaram saved her life.

But he didn't just save her from the train.

He gave her a new reason to live.

When Dayaram decided to bring her home, Nirmala welcomed her with warmth and love.

Jayanti felt as if Nirmala was her daughter.

And Siya was overjoyed to have a grandmother in her life.

Just like that, they became a small, happy family.

Jayanti didn't want to become a burden on Dayaram.

People loved her cooking, so with Nirmala and Dayaram's encouragement, she opened a small breakfast shop next to Dayaram's tea stall.

While Dayaram's shop served fresh tea, Jayanti served tasty and fresh breakfast.

The customers loved the combination.

Though their shops were small, they took care of hygiene and never compromised on the quality of their tea or food.

Jayanti also contributed towards the household expenses, but Dayaram always encouraged her to save some money for herself.

Their savings were not much.

Their lives were not luxurious.

Yet they were content.

They had each other.

And sometimes, that was enough.

It is often said that life is a journey and we keep meeting new people along the way.

Some people enter our lives for a reason.

Some enter to give us an experience.

And a few change our lives forever.

But what happens when you meet someone completely unknown who changes your life forever?

In Dayaram's profession, it was normal for him to meet new and different people every day.

But little did he know that one such meeting would change his life forever.

Train journeys are exciting when you are travelling with family and know your destination.

But what happens when you board a train and aren't sure where you are going?

She herself wasn't sure what was going on in her mind when she boarded that train.

She was trying to run away from something.

Or someone.

Perhaps even from herself.

She wasn't aware.

She had boarded the train without a reservation.

She didn't have a bag.

She didn't have a phone.

She didn't seem to have any idea where the train was going.

She simply sat near the window.

She was wearing a white shirt and black trousers.

Her clothes looked neat, but there was something strange about her appearance.

Her eyes looked lost.

Not sad.

Not angry.

Just... lost.

As if she had forgotten what she was searching for.

Most of the passengers around her were sleeping.

Nobody paid much attention to her.

She looked at them.

Then she looked outside the window.

Rain droplets slowly rolled down the glass.

She tried to remember why she had boarded the train.

Nothing.

She tried to remember where she wanted to go.

Nothing.

She tried to remember where she had come from.

Again, nothing.

"Where am I going?"

She whispered to herself.

Nobody answered.

She looked at the passenger sitting opposite her.

"Excuse me..."

The woman didn't respond.

She tried another passenger.

"Can you tell me where this train is going?"

Nothing.

Perhaps they hadn't heard her.

She tried again.

This time, louder.

Still nothing.

She began wondering if she was dreaming.

Maybe this was just a strange dream.

She looked at her hands.

They were there.

She could see them.

She could feel the seat beneath her.

She could feel the cold breeze coming through the window.

Everything felt real.

Yet something was terribly wrong.

Then she saw something.

For just a second.

A hospital room.

A figure lying on a hospital bed.

Machines around it.

A woman crying.

And then everything disappeared.

She blinked.

The train was still there.

The passengers were still sleeping.

The rain was still falling.

She closed her eyes.

Maybe she had imagined it.

She didn't know.

At exactly 7.00 am, Dayaram entered the coach carrying a large kettle of freshly prepared tea.

"Chai... garam chai..."

His voice slowly travelled through the sleeping coach.

He stopped beside a young woman sitting near the window.

"Madam, chai?"

She looked at him.

For some reason, his voice felt different.

Familiar.

She didn't know why.

"No."

Dayaram smiled.

"Okay."

He moved ahead.

After serving a few passengers, he came back.

He looked at the girl.

She was still sitting in the same position.

The cup of tea he had offered her earlier was untouched.

Dayaram looked at it.

Then looked at her.

"Tea is getting cold."

She looked at him.

"I didn't take it."

Dayaram frowned.

"I know."

She stared at him.

"You can see me?"

Dayaram smiled.

"Of course I can see you."

She looked around.

The other passengers were sleeping.

Nobody seemed to notice her.

For the first time since she had boarded the train, someone had actually answered her.

"Can they see me?"

Dayaram looked at the sleeping passengers.

"I suppose so."

"No."

She shook her head.

"They don't."

Dayaram didn't know what to say.

He simply picked up the cup and offered her another one.

"Have it."

"I don't want tea."

"I know."

"Then why are you giving it to me?"

"Because sometimes people say they don't want something when what they really need is someone to sit beside them."

She looked at him.

For some reason, those words stayed with her.

The next morning, she woke up in the same train.

Same station.

Same rain.

Same sleeping passengers.

Same vendors.

Same 7.00 am.

And the same man carrying a kettle.

Dayaram.

He offered her tea.

Again.

She refused.

Again.

But this time she noticed something.

Dayaram behaved as if it were the first time he had ever seen her.

He had no memory of yesterday.

For him, it was another morning.

For her, it was the same morning.

She didn't understand.

The day ended.

And the next morning began.

Again.

The same train.

The same rain.

The same passengers.

The same tea vendors.

The same Dayaram.

Again.

And again.

At first she thought she was dreaming.

Then she thought she was dead.

Then she wondered if she had lost her mind.

She tried getting off the train.

But somehow, every time she tried to move away, something pulled her back.

She tried talking to passengers.

Nobody responded.

She tried remembering her name.

Nothing came.

She started becoming frustrated.

Not because she knew what was happening.

But because she didn't.

She was trapped in a day she didn't understand.

And there was only one person who could hear her.

Dayaram.

One morning, after several repetitions, she finally spoke to him.

"What is happening to me?"

Dayaram looked at her.

"I don't know."

"You can see me."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Do you remember me?"

Dayaram shook his head.

"No."

"But I have met you before."

"I meet hundreds of people every day."

"No. I mean this exact day."

Dayaram looked at her carefully.

"What is your name?"

She remained silent.

"I don't know."

"What do you remember?"

She closed her eyes.

A hospital.

A woman crying.

A man standing beside a bed.

A building.

A fashion studio.

A girl laughing.

She opened her eyes.

"I don't know."

Dayaram didn't press her.

He simply sat beside her.

"Sometimes memories come back when we stop forcing them."

She looked at him.

"You don't think I'm crazy?"

Dayaram smiled.

"I sell tea for a living. I meet all kinds of people."

For the first time, she smiled.

Just a little.

It was Jayanti who noticed her next.

One morning, Dayaram was returning from the train when Jayanti suddenly looked towards the coach.

She stopped.

"Who is that girl?"

Dayaram turned.

"What girl?"

"The one sitting near the window."

Dayaram looked at the girl.

"You can see her?"

Jayanti frowned.

"Of course."

Dayaram and Jayanti exchanged a glance.

The girl looked equally surprised.

For the first time, she realised she wasn't completely alone.

Jayanti walked towards her.

She sat beside her.

"What is your name?"

"I don't know."

Jayanti didn't look frightened.

Instead, she gently held her hand.

"Then we will start from there."

"Start from what?"

"Finding you."

Slowly, the girl began remembering.

Her name was Priya.

And once she remembered her name, other memories started returning.

Her home.

Her father.

Her office.

And another name.

Pooja.

The memories came like broken pieces of glass.

She remembered a girl who had always stood beside her.

A girl who had trusted her.

A girl she had betrayed.

Priya and Pooja had met during their college days.

They were very different from each other.

Priya came from a wealthy, well-settled family.

She had grown up in comfort.

If she wanted something, most of the time her parents made sure she got it.

Pooja's life was completely different.

Her father had a small job, and her mother managed the house with whatever they could afford.

Pooja knew from a young age that if she wanted to achieve something, she would have to work for it.

She studied hard.

She took scholarships whenever she could.

She sometimes worked part-time to support herself.

There were days when she came to college without breakfast.

But she never complained.

Priya admired that about her.

Their friendship began unexpectedly.

One day, Priya was struggling with an assignment.

Pooja noticed.

"Do you want some help?"

Priya looked at her.

"You understand this?"

Pooja smiled.

"I think so."

She sat beside Priya and helped her complete the assignment.

That was how their friendship began.

Slowly, they became inseparable.

They studied together.

Had lunch together.

Went shopping together.

Talked about their dreams.

Priya often told her,

"One day we are going to do something big."

Pooja would laugh.

"Something big?"

"Yes."

"And what will we do?"

"I don't know yet."

They would laugh.

Neither knew that those casual conversations would one day become reality.

Pooja had always been interested in fashion.

She loved clothes.

Not expensive clothes.

She loved the idea of creating something from nothing.

She could look at an ordinary piece of fabric and imagine an entirely different outfit.

One evening, she showed Priya some of her designs.

"What do you think?"

Priya looked at the sketches.

"They're beautiful."

"I want to start something of my own."

"What?"

"A fashion brand."

Priya looked at her.

"You are serious?"

"Very."

Pooja explained her idea.

She wanted to create fashionable but affordable clothes.

She wanted to work with local artisans and small manufacturers.

She had the ideas.

She had the passion.

But she didn't have the money.

Priya did.

"I'll invest," Priya said.

Pooja looked at her.

"You?"

"Why not?"

"But this is my idea."

"And I'm not taking it from you."

Priya laughed.

"We'll do it together."

Pooja smiled.

"Partners?"

"Partners."

They shook hands.

Neither knew how important that moment would become.

The beginning wasn't easy.

There were days when they didn't receive a single order.

There were days when they wondered whether they had made a mistake.

But slowly things changed.

One customer became ten.

Ten became fifty.

Their social media page started getting attention.

Orders began coming from different cities.

For the first time, they felt their dream was becoming a reality.

They celebrated their first major order together.

Pooja was so excited that she started crying.

"We actually did it."

Priya hugged her.

"We did."

At that time, neither cared who had done more.

They were simply two friends who had built something together.

As the business grew, their responsibilities changed.

Pooja handled the designing.

She knew fabrics.

She understood colours.

She knew what customers wanted.

Priya handled the financial side and business expansion.

She had contacts.

She knew how to negotiate.

She brought investors.

They were a good team.

Until people started noticing Pooja.

It began with a fashion magazine.

They wanted to interview one of the founders.

Pooja assumed both of them would be interviewed.

But the journalist said,

"We would like to speak with Pooja."

Priya smiled.

"Of course."

She stepped aside.

At that time, it didn't bother her.

Pooja gave the interview.

She spoke about their journey.

And she spoke about Priya.

"Without Priya, none of this would have been possible."

When the article came out, Pooja's photograph was on the cover.

Priya looked at it.

She smiled.

But something inside her felt uncomfortable.

She didn't understand why.

Pooja had given her credit.

So why did it bother her?

A few months later, Pooja was invited to receive an award.

Priya went with her.

When Pooja's name was announced, the entire room applauded.

Pooja walked onto the stage and received the award.

Then she looked towards Priya.

And smiled.

That smile should have made Priya happy.

Instead, for the first time, she felt something she didn't want to admit.

Jealousy.

She clapped.

She smiled.

She hugged Pooja after the ceremony.

But on the way home, she remained quiet.

Pooja noticed.

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"You seem upset."

"I'm fine."

Pooja didn't push her.

She trusted her.

Perhaps that was the problem.

Things became worse when Priya's father praised Pooja.

He had always been proud of Priya.

But one evening, after reading an article about the company, he said,

"That girl Pooja is brilliant."

Priya looked at him.

"She is."

"Honestly, I think she is the real reason the company has succeeded."

Priya said nothing.

Her father continued,

"She has talent. She has determination. Girls like her can go very far."

Priya smiled.

But inside, those words hurt.

The real reason?

What about her?

Hadn't she invested the money?

Hadn't she taken the financial risk?

Hadn't she brought the contacts?

Hadn't she helped build the company?

Why was everyone suddenly looking at Pooja?

That night, Priya couldn't sleep.

For the first time, she began comparing herself with her best friend.

And once comparison enters a relationship, sometimes even love begins to look like competition.

Priya started noticing everything.

When people came to the office, they asked for Pooja.

When journalists called, they wanted Pooja.

When customers praised the designs, they praised Pooja.

Every compliment Pooja received started feeling like something Priya was losing.

Pooja didn't notice.

She was still the same friend.

She still called Priya whenever she had a new idea.

She still asked her opinion.

She still believed that their success belonged to both of them.

One evening she said,

"Can you believe how far we've come?"

Priya looked at her.

"Yes."

"We did it."

Priya smiled.

"Yes, we did."

But inside, another voice had already started speaking.

No.

You did it.

The first time Priya thought about taking complete control of the company, she immediately pushed the thought away.

How could she even think like that?

This was her best friend.

But the thought returned.

Again.

And again.

Eventually, she stopped fighting it.

She began telling herself that perhaps Pooja didn't deserve as much credit as everyone was giving her.

After all, Priya had invested the money.

She had taken the financial risk.

She had brought the business contacts.

Perhaps she deserved more.

The justification came first.

Then resentment.

Then the first lie.

And after the first lie, the next one became easier.