The Date at Crossroad

It was between sixteen stations, or twenty-two. It was between thirty-five minutes or fifty-one.

She was gauging it continuously like she always did. The daily train ride from office to work was precisely thirty-five minutes travelling through sixteen stations. She liked to calculate and reaffirm her calculations, counting stops and time traveled and left to travel. What the commute on train does to you is identifying your defined set of rules and realizing that everyone has theirs. In few weeks you figure out that you are taking the train at same time seeing same people around. You also understand their inkling towards which bogie, seat or area to take. You know the ones who read kindle, and the ones who spend time on candy crush. It’s a continuously recurring Deja Vu. Everyday is so similar in terms of people, behavior and ambiance that it’s hard to distinguish one journey from another, except today. Today was no different on all these aspects except that she had a date.

She wasn’t sure if she should call it that- a date. She was probably meeting the guy she has met multiple times. She has had countless meals and drinks with him. They had gulped more tequila shots together than the number of times U.S.of A has been alien-attacked in Hollywood. That’s a silly comparison, she thought, but it somehow had a ring of correct measure.

He wasn’t really her best buddy or anything but a nice guy who was friend of convenience. Ya, she believed in friendship of convenience. She knew that life takes you forward and keeping in touch is a bullshit thing. So the friends you spend time with are actually the ones who happen to be at ‘same place same time.’ As time moves on, so does the friendship. That was her attempt to simplify the most simple relation of friendship.

*Ting Ding. The next station is…*

Her mind raced restlesslessly as the decision time had shrunk to nine stations. He had asked her out on a date at her favorite bar, six station after hers. He had not waited for reply or really asked her out in a typical manner. He had assertively said he’ll see her there after work.

Crap. If only metro had a smoking room or a provision of beer or something, she could think straight. She made a mental note of how journeys encompass major decision points and having smoking and mini bars in metro should figure at the top of ‘make my city better’ initiative. This friend-zoning was an over hyped concept lately. Is it true that women look for compassionate men in life overlooking the exact specification in friends they hang out with? Or is it just a concept out of being comfortable with someone you know without judging or expectations? She shrugged away these thoughts with a conclusion that it is on case to case basis, only made popular by often ‘friend-zoned’ men.

They had started from ‘I am doing nothing and you are doing nothing too.’ It moved on to ‘Are you doing anything?’ and was currently at ‘Would you like to join in for what I am doing?’ That was perfect. Now he suddenly made it ‘I would plan and want to do something with you.’ This was a scary stage. This was a step. She was an over-thinker as usual.

*Ting Ding. The next station is…* Six stations?? Only thing good happening right now was that she was glad she got a seat…

What am I signalling if I go? Why is he making this different if not difficult? What if I don’t go like I messaged? It was difficult. Friends are more addictive than lovers. They instigate more jealously than spouses and call for more attention. Only thing which makes it good is that there is no norm of necessary action. One does what one does out of want and not a protocol. That was why she was always pro friends and against lovers. Love is friendship, yes, but not quite because it comes with a helmet of forced care, garb of thrusted expectation and shoes of walking in the same direction.

It wasn’t really a big deal but she knew what she does today will be like reaching a crossroad. Whether she turns or not will impact her life -love wise- very differently. She didn’t have an urge to go, just a feeling of an upcoming restlessness from not going…

Whtsapp: last online twenty-five minutes ago- “Hey! So same plan, 6ish at Crossroads?” ” Hey! Don’t think I’ll come…” “See, do as you feel like, I’ll be there only.”

*Ting Ding. The next station is…* Two stations!

She already started putting her stuff back in bag, checking for the keys in small pocket and taking out change for coffee from the station for her short walk home. There was no doubt she wasn’t going but it was building on her each moment as the train was moving ahead…as if nothing was happening but it was something she felt will dawn on her badly later. Love, like acne is more pronounced in hindsight after all. It comes at young age, leaves scars that show, is hormonal and surprisingly ebbs after marriage.

*Ting Ding. The next station is…* “Mine is next”

A pregnant women got in with  a young child in pram. She immediately got up. The woman gestured it was okay while she gestured back that she was getting down on the next station. She stood next to the door, besides the pram. She also thought it was a divine indication that she should just go home. Why else would she have to vacate her seat right before her station?

*Ting Ding. This station is…* ” Mine!”

And this is it. She always felt a victory in being the unemotional one and took pride when she could resist temptations or not give in to herself. Those who say it’s difficult to follow your heart are stupid. It’s so easy. What’s difficult is to follow your brain.

Doors closing

She heard as the train moved, she just had the most brainstormed ‘mind-the-gap’ step of her life. Everything was moving fast. ‘Do the right thing’ was her motto. Just before the station, she had contemplated ways that would prevent her from getting down. Maybe she can be so engrossed in her book that she misses her station and then decides to go to ‘Crosroad.’ Or it can be just catching a drink after a long day, like other days. Except that it was enough; she couldn’t fool herself, or be an escapist. Convenience is not forever, not free at least. So it was time to let go of the convenient friend sooner or later. Better sooner. Suddenly there was a jerk that shook everything. She felt herself reach for the bar with one hand as she held on to the pram that moved agressively towards the door, spilling the loose change she had for coffee…

*Ting Ding. Doors opening. This station is…* 

Five stations to the Crossroad…

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This entry was posted on May 13, 2014 by Shweta Gautam

https://opinioncircuitdotcom.wordpress.com/2014/05/13/the-date-at-crossroad/