Taxi

It was raining heavily. I could see the driver wiping the foggy windscreen of the taxi frequently… his wiper was not working. Inspite of the dirt and filth lying around in Mumbai, rains always manage to give the city a clean look. It looks as if the city is taking a bath after a long and dusty playtime outside. Contrary to the soothing feeling I get by the sound of falling raindrops, today it hardly made a difference. My heart felt as if it was going to jump out of my chest.

He called me yesterday night, asking me to receive him at the station. It was the first time he had gone ahead of his deliberate casual attitude towards everything… towards me. I would be lying if I say it didn’t please me. I looked at the rearview mirror and did a mental check – Kajal, check. Lipstick, check. A little of cleavage was showing… I didn’t care. I was wearing blue and smiled when I realized it was his favourite colour (God! I was acting like a funny teenager). I was sure he wouldn’t even notice it. A loud screech of brakes and sound of the taxi splashing through a huge puddle jerked me out of my reverie.

He had met me a year before… can’t even remember what attracted me towards him in the first place. Doesn’t have the looks or the disposition. He says he doesn’t love me, neither do I. But I did miss him a lot when he was away. Should I tell this to him or not? The rain had stopped and I jumped over the pools of muddy water that had formed everywhere to reach the platform and do what I could … wait.

I spotted him struggling with his 2 bags and walking towards me; we searched for a taxi and just bundled up…luggage and all in the back seat towards his home. Sometimes I think if he never lived alone, we would definitely not be meeting like this. Not a time for self reflection I thought and turned towards him. The first thing I noticed was he had mosquito bites on his neck

“Well, I thought there were fewer mosquitoes at home than here in Mumbai?”
“Well, since you were not there to leave any marks, the mosquitoes did”
“Very funny!”
“Do you want me stay?” I asked
“Upto you. It is always your choice”
“Ok”

I decided not to. Stay that is. Even when he kissed me and asked me to stay.
“Station chalo”, I told the cabbie to catch the nearest local to my home.

If it was just a passing thing, why did it hurt so much to hear those words? Was I going back on my own resolve? That I wouldn’t take this seriously, I wouldn’t take him seriously. Where does that leave me? Was I being true to myself? Is the emotion I see flickering in his eyes for it vanishes just as quickly – love? If not then what? Why are we still together? It was not suppose to last for more than a month and yet here we are, not able to break away. I am going insane? Too many questions and no answers I thought as I left one train of thought to catch a real one.