Tidings of Love
Roopa was languid in her bed that morning when she received Sandhya’s telegram - ARRIVING TWENTIETH GODAVARI RECEIVE US STATION.
Overwhelmed, she threw her hands up in excitement. However, she picked up ‘The Hindu’ lying in the door latch as though to confirm the date. Thrilled at the prospect of meeting Raja Rao, she looked at the clock, and was shocked at what she saw.
‘There’s hardly any time left. Oh, the train would arrive in half an hour, the time that takes me to reach the station. Can’t the department show some consideration for such messages,’ she thought in irritation. ‘Why did Sandhya have to wait until the eleventh hour to wire?’
While cursing her friend impulsively, she reached for the mirror instinctively.
‘I’ve to appear before Raja unkempt or keep them waiting to freshen up,’ she thought, apprising herself of her appearance. ‘Oh, how I’ve been craving to see him for the past eleven days! When the longed-for moment is on hand, why am I bothering about my looks? If I don’t show up in time, they may try to make it on their own. Won’t that further delay his darshan? Moreover, a mix-up would leave them stranded at the doorsteps. And that would surely present me in a poor light. Oh, no, I will change the sari and tend to my hair on the way.’
As soon as she got into an auto-rickshaw, she began goading the driver to go in top gear, all the while blaming herself for her predicament, ‘Oh, how stupid! Wasn’t it my idea to receive them at the station that has landed me in this mess? Didn’t they say they would make it on their own even then? But, I insisted on receiving them, didn’t I? Oh, how could I’ve anticipated all this? Was it my fault wanting to see him as he got down from the train? For all my longing, don’t I deserve to see him as he alights? But as luck would have it, I might as well miss the bus.’
‘What’s wrong with you?’ she berated the driver in annoyance. ‘Where have you parked your driving skills?’
‘Madam,’ the driver said in apparent helplessness, ‘what can be done when the roads are as bad and the tyres so dear.’
‘Oh, the roads, they are as wretched as my life,’ she felt dejectedly while her thoughts turned to Sathyam instinctively, ‘Why had he to go today, of all days, on that god-damn tour? Had he not woken me up at four, I wouldn’t have had a disturbed sleep later, and so should’ve got up as usual. It’s as though ill-luck would shadow me in his shape.’