Being imaginative can be a curse as well as a boon. To justify the statement let me share a little anecdote. I was in the seventh standard when I was first introduced to the world of Ruskin Bond. And the first story which came across me was 'The woman on platform no. 8'. It was included as a chapter in our English literature textbook. I have always been a daydreamer kind of kid. A person needs to be really compelling, interesting, or both to grab my attention.
But that story hit me so strongly as if I was there in that story, experiencing each and every activity myself. I could see those stray dogs around me, feasting upon broken biscuits. I could see a leaner and meek version of myself sitting on his luggage. I could listen to the announcements on the platform. I could see various tea sellers, screaming at the top of their voices. I could see this boy with his irritating mother next to me. And, I can see that generous lady in a white saree who claimed to be Arun's mother in front of his friend and his mother.
I have always imagined Counsellor Ma'am as the woman on platform no. 8.
That level of generosity, empathy, and care - only that fictional character can reach near that level if I dare to describe Counsellor Ma'ams' persona. From the day I read that story till the moment I'm writing this, every time I think about that story, her generous face comes right in front of me.
Whenever I meet my friends from school, we always talk about her and how she influenced our respective lives. And one of my friends, who is also my constant companion (and my wife), we frequently discuss various fables and anecdotes related to Counsellor Ma'am. The conversation sometimes gets really emotional and intense.
My wife had lots of emotional ups and downs when we were in school. Unlike me, she was good in her studies, highly disciplined, and hardworking. But then came a phase when things were not going the way she wanted. And the worst part is, she couldn't express what was going on with her to anyone around because of various reasons. I'm not sure whether it was a social science class or English when a senior came to convey the message that Counsellor Ma'am called her after that class.
When she went to her room, she made her comfortable and said something which she never going to forget. In her healing voice, she said "Someone who cares for you told me that you are disturbed these days. What's troubling you, child?"
I'm envious of my wife that she can express what's going on inside her head. She can convert her feelings into words if someone genuinely listens to her.
Years passed and an academically crucial year entered our lives. Our twelfth standard pre-boards were revolving around heads when one gloomy morning I received a text from Geetika that her Father was no more. He died fighting a malignant tumor which was troubling him for many years.
The months after that were dark and frightening. It was impossible to lighten up her mood. It was an emotionally draining period for both of us. And then Counsellor Ma'am came to the rescue. My wife talked to her after pre-boards, and she coped quite well after those sessions.
One thought always occurred in my mind but I never dared to ask her. How emotionally tiring it must be for her to listen to the problems of each and every student who visits her room. I couldn't ask her even in the later years when I used to share my stories, articles, and those lovely Hazrat Rumi quotes with her on WhatsApp.
The only answer I could think of is that she was consciously chosen by the Almighty. Foreign authors write about light workers and spiritual healers. For me, all those terms come under a big umbrella, and I call her Counsellor Ma'am.
Coming back to the story...
Arun boarded the train with his friend and his friend bid her mother goodbye. The train took them away from the platform where that generous lady was standing. She was lost from his sight when the train gained pace. All the hustle-bustle of the platform terminated and the rhythmic sound of the train's engine was only one could hear. But before that, Arun said something to that lady that still soothes me when I feel a little disturbed.
Goodbye... Goodbye, Mother...
Last year, a few hours before the year was about to end, I got the shattering news that Counsellor Ma'am left her mortal body.
At that moment I experienced Kalka Mail gaining pace and platform no. 8 of Ambala station is becoming more and more distant. Everything was getting petite before getting disappeared into darkness.
Goodbye, Mother... it still rings in my ears.
Being imaginative is a curse or a boon... I really don't know.
Peace
HRN
