Under The Street Lamp

The yellow, flickering street lamp by the taxi stand was part of the day's routine for Mahi at this point. Every night, he stood under the very street lamp, waiting for a shared taxi to return home after a long day's work in the printing press.

That night should not have been any different. Mahi stood under the flickering, yellow light, trying to wipe away the ink from his palms, while simultaneously chasing away the pesky mosquitos. Mahi was so lost in himself that he was completely unaware of when another person had joined him under the street lamp.

At one casual glance, Mahi was sure that such a person should not be standing here. The tailored suit, the polished shoes and the glittering watch on the wrist, were signs enough for Mahi to deduce the identity of the stranger as an affluent man. Why was such a man waiting here for a shared taxi?

Neither of them uttered any words. Mahi suddenly felt extremely conscious of his own worn out attire and ink stained hands. The man didn't look much older or younger than Mahi, but the gap in status was screaming at the face for anyone with eyes.

“Do you catch a taxi every night here?”

Mahi was startled out of his musings by the soft question, his head jerking to the polished face that shouldn't even look at him.

“Yeah.”

The man didn't speak for a while, gazing at Mahi in a way that made his skin crawl a bit.

“Any guesses when a taxi would arrive?”

“...should be soon now.”

“Oh.”

Mahi turned his head away, not wishing to speak again. You did not speak to such babus. Who can tell what whim they get and next day you're on the road. Mahi could feel the curious glance at his back, but resolutely kept his head turned away.

A taxi pulled in slowly, the driver a bit intoxicated already, nothing unusual.

Mahi quickly haggled the fare and got inside the taxi. The driver looked expectantly at the gentleman in the suit, eyes glinting with the possibility of a big tip. Mahi too curiously glanced at the man, who seemed the least interested in getting in. Hadn't he just asked about when a taxi would arrive? Why wasn't he getting in then?

At last the driver sighed and drove away.

Mahi mused about the brief encounter while tossing in his bed. He lived alone, in a dingy apartment, so no worries of disturbing anyone with his unease. He could not understand the man he saw. But somewhere, he wanted to meet him again.

...----------------...

Next evening, Mahi once again stood at the same spot, alone as usual.

Soft footsteps behind him, prompted Mahi to turn his head back. It was that man from last night, only this time, his clothes were much simpler and a smile lit up on his face.

“Hello there, we meet again. I'm Nabh, and you?”

“...Mahi.”

Wow, even their names were as opposite as they were, thought Mahi and forced a small reluctant smile at the stranger.

“Which press do you work for Mahi?”

“Ah… Shubh Sansar.”

“Oh! What a coincidence, I work there too.”

“You probably work in the office?”

“Well yes… I joined recently.”

A taxi pulled up and Mahi quickly turned to get in, but he turned back at the door.

“Aren't you getting in?”

“Ah …”, Nabh gave a nervous looking smile, “I will catch the next one, please take it.”

Mahi thought this man was not aware that these taxis are on share, so he shrugged and got in.

Once the taxi drove out of the eye shot, a car came out of the shadows and Nabh quickly climbed in.

The old driver smiled a little at the young master, “Do you like that boy that much chotto babu?”

“It's nothing like that uncle…”

The old man let out a small laugh, “I was once your age too. I recognize what I see.”

Nabh was sure his ears had turned the exact shade of the beetroot juice he drank in the mornings. He tried to retort but couldn't find any words.

...----------------...

Mahi found himself adjusting to a new addition in his daily routine. The guy named Nabh, was not a bad company after all and Mahi had begun to look forward to the unusual friendship they had developed waiting under the street lamp.

On days, Mahi had felt Nabh itching to say something, but he never did in the end and Mahi didn't push him. Maybe some things are better left unsaid, some moments are only meant to be felt, not spoken.

Some nights, are only meant to be basked under the street lamp.

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