The "Sakhiye... Snehidhiye" Moment.

Disclaimers: As usual, I have not allowed the truth to come in the way of a hopefully entertaining blog post. Like Vidya Balan says in the Dirty Picture, Entertainment is what matters. Not the Truth.

After a long awaited game of cricket today morning, I was on the way back, dead tired, on the Mumbai local back to upstate Kandivali, from downtown Parel, engaged in animated discussions with young Himanshu on how we had grown old and out of touch (conveniently forgetting men who are on an average a decade older than us, and still playing on for a 100th 100). After Himanshu alighted at Mahim, I was on my own, and almost drifting off to sleep.

There definitely is a relationship between me and trains. Its quite a hide-and-seek though, for trains only seem to play host to a lot of my unromance - meaning the romance that almost was.Today was no different, when I got bored of sitting as we neared Malad (a station just before Kandivali), and ventured out to the door of the compartment. Just to be precise, there is no door. It is a simple doorway with a steel pole in the middle, which hurts significantly more than it helps, as millions of people jump in and out the train every day during rush hour.

So there I was, in my dirty cricket tee and tracks, standing by the pole in the middle of the door, the wind and sun on my face. Which is when I realised I had my sportsman sunglasses in my bag, and promptly put them on as well! Now you get the full picture. Basically, no less than Alaipayuthey Madhavan, with a bag slung over my right shoulder.

Enter the speeding local that was almost overtaking us on the parallel track. If i had known what was waiting, the sound of the local would have sounded like a fast Veena in romantic Nalinakaanthi. But since I did not, it sounded like a speeding local. As the compartments went past us one after the other, the ladies compartment came up exactly opposite where I was standing.

And there she was. Heavvy! Completely standing out from the rest of the sisterhood. Literally too, she was almost falling out of the train in the rush. When our eyes met, my first instinct was of course to pull in my paunch. First things first. Those 4 seconds when she was gazing in my direction, and I was looking squarely at her - albeit through my tinted glasses - were when i heard the "Sakhiye.. Snehidhiye" refrain in full volume in my head.

Those 4 seconds... Super mama. Ready? 1... 2... 3... 4!

Inexplicably, there seemed to be a "what a changeover mama" moment, as that gaze seemed to create some sort of distance between us, and she seemed to be withdrawing from me ever so quickly after a brilliant 4 seconds. Which is when I realized my slow local was slowing to stop at my station, while her fast local was just changing tracks to move on the other side of the platform and speed past menial Kandivali to go to happening Borivali.

The humming stayed with me the entire time I walked from the station back to my house, until the moment Divya opened the door for me, with a word about my looks that made me slightly uncomfortable - "Panja Paradesi".

Cha.

But, as Airtel famously says "Ovvoru Figure-um theva machaan".