Sharma
was known for some bizarre idiosyncrasies. A hopeless sentimental stupid and a
repository of blind beliefs and superstitions, he was regarded an eccentric
creature or odd man out in the circle of his friends and relatives. However, he
stood his ground; cherished being sentimental no matter how his friends taunted
him and poked fun at him for his idiotic behavior. When questioned about his
sentimentality, he would blurt out: ‘Tell me, who isn’t sentimental? Life sans
sentiments will be a dreary affair.’
Sharma
was in a hurry. It was time for his rendezvous with the ‘godly figure’ at the
railway station. He became tense, restless, looking frequently at his wrist
watch. ‘Time is running out,’ he moaned and shut down the computer.
When
he was about to leave the office, Ram, his friend and colleague, approached him
and reminded him about their GM’s farewell meeting in the evening. Sharma
blinked. He was completely out to lunch. He looked through Ram and said:
‘Sorry, Ram, I can’t attend the meeting. I’ve an urgent work at the railway
station.’
‘I
know what it’s. You’re an incorrigible sentimental idiot’, Ram quipped, went on
his way.
Panic-stricken,
Sharma ran helter- skelter on the railway platform unmindful of the sweat that
had drenched him from head to feet. Clusters of people standing haphazardly on
the way did not deter him from reaching to the dead-end of the platform where
the motor car of the Tambaram-bound unit train would usually halt. He dried his
sweat-laden face with his hands, got his eyes riveted on the rail tracks.
‘Could
I get the Dharshan of the godly-face today? He muttered. ‘Have enough time to
go to the Bank. If I get a glimpse of that face, I’m sure I’ll get my home loan
sanctioned today itself’. He was upbeat, gazing joyfully at the rail tracks …
happily waiting for the train.
He
now spotted the Tambaram-bound train chugging into the station. Its ear
splitting siren created a melee on the platform, making the passengers push up
and pull down one another so that they could board the train easily as soon as
it pulled at the station. Sharma hopped from the shabby wooden bench he was
sitting in. The train did not stop at its marked place. Sharma had to run along
the train to park himself near the motor car. He gasped for breath, but was all
smiles when he saw his man Friday behind the wheels of the motor car.
The
motorman was in his fifties as thin as a robe. With receding hair, sunken eyes
and wrinkled face, he looked decrepit more than his age. Even the goatee he was
sporting looked shabby as it was trimmed haphazardly. But, Sharma liked the
face. For whenever he saw the face, he felt like being filled with an aura of
light, both clear and lucid. Sharma would always call the motorman’s face
‘divine and angelic’. To him, it was luck-laden and god-sent. He believed that
whenever he saw that face he would get all he wanted. The Dharshan of the face
would untie all the knots of life’, he would think.
‘Hello!’
Sharma greeted the motorman. He was standing close to the window of the motor car.
The old man at the wheels nodded his head briefly with a bland smile, but the
smile flashed like moonlight on Sharma, sweeping him off his feet. He tried to
speak to the old man. He wanted to tell him that his mother had miraculously
recovered from her illness the moment he had the Dharshan of his cherubic face
weeks back. But, Sharma couldn’t speak what he felt since the train left the
station in a flash.
When
Sharma got to his office, it was late in the afternoon. He was so excited that
it did not occur to him to have his lunch. On his way back to the office from
the railway station, he dropped into the Bank to enquire about his home loan.
Seeing Sharma entering his cabin, the manager told him that his loan was
sanctioned.
Sharma
was all smiles. ‘I know I’ll get my loan sanctioned today’, he replied
nonchalantly. ‘How?’ the manager asked, raising his brows. ‘It’s all due to the
mystical power of a man … the divine grant of a face. I saw him at the station
before coming over here.’ Sharma left the Bank in a hurry leaving the manager
in a quandary who called Sharma a nut since he couldn’t figure out anything
from what Sharma had said.
Ram
was dumbfounded when Sharma told him that he got his home loan sanctioned. They
were sitting in the office canteen. ‘You’re lucky Sharma’, Ram said, his tone a
bit envious. ‘I know that Bank. They’ll take ages to process a loan
application. Come on, Sharma; tell me what magic you did to get the loan
sanctioned just like that.’
[To
be continued]
Image
courtesy: Google
