The Weeping Stars

The Move

Isha got down for the trian gingerly. It is not easy to move after in the same position for four hours. It will take some time for the circulation to return to her feet. In the meantime, she took stock of her surroudings. It was a small station, with only two platforms, a tea-stall and a ticket-house. A small dwelleling in a distance could be the office of the station master.

Most of the people who left the train were already making their way to the exit. She hastily looked around to find a Coolie (a person who carries luggage in station in return of a small fare).She did not have to wait long. A middle-aged man, dressed in the traditionaly garb of a coolie approached her. Telling him to carry her luggage to the station rickshaw stand, she picked up a few bags herself. It did not seem fair to dump all her luggage on the man. The duo slowly made their way to the exit.

She noticed that most of the men in the station were looking at her. She realised that a lone girl travelling with a mountain of luggage must be a rare sight in rural India. At 5ft 5 she was taller than most Indian girls. With ink-black hair tumbling down to her back in a riot of curls and milky-white skin, she really was a beautiful girl. However, what set her apart was the regal way in which she carried herself. Her ramrod-straight posture suggested an inner strenght that is very rare in someone so young. Her innocent, yet direct stare will immediately demand respect from the recipient. The coolie was not exception. He reverently led her to a old rickshaw-puller, observing that he very reliable and would take the safely to her destination. Isha appreciate his concern. Such concern from complete strangers are not uncommon, and most of the times taken for granted. Isha knows better. Genuine concern is rare and must be treasured.

Afted she thanked and tipped the coolie quiet generously, she asked the rickshaw puller to take her to Mullickpara. She will be a guest at her friend, Runa's house for this Durga Puja, after which she will start as a teacher in the local secondary school. It might seem strange that Isha left her family during Puja, at a time when people travel across the country to be with their families. But Isha has had enough. The puja is the time which she dreads the most. Escape from family and all that is familiar had become essential for her sanity.

Shaking herself out of her depressing thoughts, she looked around. The rickshaw was speeding on a road which was not even suitable for walking. However the traffic on the road suggested that this was a major artery of the area. As far as the eyes would go, the lush green fields extended in all directions. Only in the far east, a healthy crop of trees gave away the location of the village. The sky was casting a beautiful orange glow on the last of the clouds. Somewhere behind the village, a long, sparkling line of silver suggested the presence of a big water-body. This must be the lake Runa mentioned, mused Isha. Runa has promised her a moonlight bath in the pool, as her house in right on its bank. That will be fun, thought Isha. This is really a new begenning. A new job, new neighbourhood, and hopefully new friends.

Picture of Isha