The Girl from London

He heard the whistle of the rail engine. The atmosphere was terribly hot and tormenting. But nothing could disturb Pobitra. The shouting of the people, the announcements, nothing was an obstacle to him. He was reading Pope’s “Elegy”. The two lines of the poem impressed him- “Is there no bright reversion in the sky/For those who greatly think or bravely die?” It seemed to him that the lines were wet; the tears of the poet made it so.
Suddenly his father appeared and shouted, “What the hell are you doing here? Hurry up, the train is coming at platform no.3.” Pobitra felt helpless. He had a strong desire to finish the poem but he could not. He knew that his father was bit rude when he read any story or poem. Pobitra thought he was lucky. He got the book from his dad.
He took up the luggage and followed his dad. He was led to an A.C 3 Tier Coach and they occupied their seats. Knowing that the time of the departure of the train was already gone, he asked, “Dad, what’s wrong? And why the front seats are empty? May I seat down there?
“It is not our seat. Be quiet”
As soon as he finished his words one couple arrived with their nine years old daughter, the same age of Pobitra. Their exotic appearance said that they must be foreigners; most probably they are from an occidental country.
The gentleman said, “What is your destination?” Pobitra’s father replied- “We are going to Howrah, and yours?”
“We are going to New Jalpaiguri. I am Peter W. Crowther and she is my wife. And we have our dear daughter Jassica with us. May I know who I am taking to?”
“I am Ratan Sarkar. She is my wife Ratna and here is our son Pobitra. From which country are you?”
“We are from London, U.K. Glad to meet you”
The conversation continued. Night came. They had their own dinner and pumped the air-pillow. Everyone was extremely tired and as soon as they lied they felt asleep, except one. He is Pobitra. The train was running with it top speed and only its never-ending sound and the snoring of the people could be heard. Darkness had spread its web in the coach but in the mind of Pobitra there was light. Always he could see it but there was a special reason that day. He was thinking for someone greatly. The “Unfortunate Lady”? No, that day was dedicated to someone who was very special to him.

In the midnight Pobitra felt that someone was pushing him. He woke up and saw that a very beautiful girl, whom he had never seen before, was calling him. “Wake up, dear”, she said.
“But your name?” Pobitra asked.

“Is it necessary?” she continued, “Come on. Please.”
He left his seat and went with her. She took him in front of the door of the coach.
“How lucky I am!” she murmured. “I got you. How nice you are! You like literature a lot, don’t you?”
“Yea, but how do you know?” he asked with a great surprise. He liked the girl but could not understand what was going on. The girl replied with a very sweet smile. Pobitra felt that the eyes and the lips of the girl were trying to say something. She came closer to him and touched his lips with her soft fingers. “Ah!” she said, her voice was steeped in satisfaction. “How sweet you are! May I taste your heart?”
Pobitra lost his self-control and pronounced feebly, “Oh, sure. Why not?”
No sooner had he told this he saw the darkness around him and it seemed him that he was licking the sweetest sweet of the world, which was filled with the aroma of the best rose. A feeling of drowsiness worked within him. The closest moment with a girl, he had. But suddenly the train stopped with a jerk. Opening his eyes, he saw the darkness of the coach.
“Oh! What a dream!’ he murmured. And then he prepared to sleep again.


Morning came silently. The rays of the creamy sun peeped through the curtain of the coach and fell on Pobitra’s eyes. He opened his eyes and saw Jassica was lying awake. Now Jassica said, “Good morning. Slept well, I hope?”
“Yea. And you?”
“Unfortunately, I couldn’t”, she continued, “because I am not accustomed to such an atmosphere”
Pobitra did not know what to say next. Fortunately Jassica asked him, “from which state are you?”
“West Bengal. You came India for a tour?”
“Yea, dear”
Dear? The word sounded something different to him.
“We came here a month ago”, Jassica continued, ‘…after visiting some popular and populous places we are going to NJP. I hope I said the correct word, didn’t I?’, Jassica said, smiling.
Suddenly Pobitra saw a book in her berth. On the cover page there was printed, “Collected Poems of Wordsworth”
“You like Wordsworth’s poetry?”, Pobitra asked.
“He is the man of my dream. And yours? Do you like our literature?”
“A lot! Wordsworth is my favourite, too. Have a look at this”
He handed a book to her, a collection of various masters of English literature. Jassica looked at him. She wanted to say something. The depth and warmth of her look dazzled Pobitra.
They chatted for a long time. Mr. Crowther and Mr. Sarkar, meanwhile, woke up. Mr. Crowther said, “Hurry! Our stations is coming”

The words sounded to Pobitra like a thunder. He could not believe that this girl would leave the coach. The seat would be empty as his hearts were.
“Hurry up! Quick, dear!”, her mother said.



Pobitra saw the train was motionless. It is New Jalpaiguri railway-station. At first he blamed the railway-authority. Why did the train reach NJP at the right time? Then, Mr. & Mrs. Crowther. Why should they stay at NJP? And ultimately, he blamed his luck, his rotten luck!
“Good bye, uncle and aunt. Good bye, Pobitra”, Jassica pronounced his name with her English accent.
Pobitra smiled and pronounced his last feeble words to Jassica, “Bye”


As soon as she left the compartment, Pobitra saw darkness around him. He stared out of the window and saw the bright sun. He saw everyone is smiling, busy in his or her work, looking cheerful and normal but only he was morose. He heaved a sigh helplessly and when he inhaled his breath, a sweet smell calmed him. The aroma of the perfume of Jassica lingered in the coach.