I was 23 then, roaming around in a foreign country with a backpack and a few Euros in my wallet. As the train hurried along the beautiful meadows in the centre of France, my mind was still stuck around the streets and bridges of Amsterdam. Looking out the window at the lush green expanse with sporadically located red-roofed houses, I reflected upon the events of the last few days. So much had happened in that period that it didn’t seem fair to contain them in a short span of four days.
Almost a year has gone by, and as I try to bring back the details of the trip, a smile registers across my face. When I leave my apartment for Gare de Clermont Ferrand in a mixture of excitement and nervousness, it’s still dark and chilly. The path leading to the main street is unlit and reminds me of the alleys where they show robberies happening in Hollywood movies. That path, to my relief, is short and as I enter the main street, I am greeted by yellow streetlights and a cold gush of wind. I glance at my watch and start walking briskly under the weight of my backpack. My shadow on the right, keeps me company on the empty roads.
Ten minutes have passed as I keep walking and I can feel the dawn approaching. In a few hours, the road would see open shops with people and vehicles rushing around. Some of them, however, would be sitting idly at roadside cafes having croissant and red wine for breakfast. But, at the moment, it wears a deserted look, covered in a yellow blanket of streetlights. Figuring that I am still a long way away from my destination, I start to quicken my steps further and after a cycle of small uphill and downhill sprints, I find myself short of breath. As I stop and look back, I see a silhouette of someone against the streetlight. Around 100m away on the cobbled roads, he is trudging towards me carrying a small backpack similar to mine. Judging by his languid stride, I can see that he has been running for a while. I wave at him and signal him to hurry up. Yashad acknowledges it and starts rushing while I catch my breath near a closed café. We are getting late and missing the morning train to Paris would mean end of our trip even before it starts.
Yashad is my partner in crime for this trip as he has been for so many others. We come from the same college and share an apartment in Clermont Ferrand with two other friends. With a well built body of slightly above average height, he wouldn’t give a first impression of such a gentle guy. But as one gets to know him, he/she starts to notice the oblivious look which goes along with a sense of calm on his round face. Dressed in blue jeans and white pullover, he starts walking beside me carrying a light backpack. As we cross our college on the way to station, we realize it’s time to go for broke. We run our lungs out and finally reach the station a minute before time. But, the mission isn’t over yet. We see the train standing on a different platform. With hopes dwindling after each passing second, we take the underground passageway to reach the platform. After scrambling to get to the train, we throw our bags and bodies inside within dying seconds of the minute. No sooner do we find our seats, the train doors close and we are off on a three hour journey to Paris.
The interior of the train is clean and capacious. A narrow aisle runs in the middle with two seats and a table on either side. The glass windows near the seats are big and wide enough to take a full view of the countryside. With dim lights and early morning laziness all around, the train, however, wears a somber look. Most of the travelers seem to be on a business trip to Paris. Sitting cozily in their seats with laptops in front, they are either typing out a document or studying a presentation. As we adjust our backpacks and shuffle in our seats, a few eyes turn towards us to find out the reason for this commotion in an otherwise silent compartment. When we settle down eventually, I look outside the window. Shadows of the night are giving way to the arriving dawn and faint outlines of trees and houses are visible at a distance. I get a bizarre notion that the train has an ulterior purpose. Not only is it getting us from Clermont Ferrand to Paris, it’s also taking us on a journey from darkness to light. Amid those thoughts, I look around and find Yashad fast asleep on the seat in front. With nothing much to observe and appreciate, I am also starting to feel sleepy. I check for my passport, cell phone and wallet in that order to ensure their safety and tilt my head towards the window. I close my eyes and sleep takes over within minutes.
(To be continued..)
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