Story of Sathya

The Woman on Platform number 10

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 38; the thirty-seventh edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is “The Woman on Platform number 10”

Story of Sathya

I was strolling at the New Delhi Railway station for over 2 hours, waiting for the Kanpur bound Shatabdi Express. Lately I got to learn that the train was delayed by 3 hours. Helplessly, I dawdled outside the New Delhi railway station, leering at the bystanders. Few minutes later, I left for the reservation centre where I saw a pool of people stranded. There was a complete mayhem as I tried to find my way inside amidst the crowds moving helter-skelter. During this process, I collided with several people of different sizes and shapes. This lot included many fragile women whose perfumes mesmerized me. I neatly organized my hair before I located a seat near the right corner of the reservation centre. I was wearing a dapper outfit dashing enough to impress girls. I wore my Ray ban sun glasses and sat on the seat adjacent to a 60 yr old woman. She looked at me as if I belonged to some alien planet. I scanned and observed a young girl of around 5, smiling and waving hands at me. I smiled back at her. I saw a cantankerous Muslim man, sporting a mullah beard outrageously involved in a verbal skirmish with a fellow passenger. The little girl’s attention was diverted and for once all eyes were glued on him. He was equally attacked by his victim who screamed abuses and curses at him.  I sneered at them and head for platform number 10. I ruffled the little girl’s hair and bid her good bye. I was carrying my bag pack and a heavy luggage bag which made me feel uncomfortable. I took few pauses as I climbed the stairs. I waited for 5 minutes at the connecting bridge. I was visibly distracted by an ensemble of good looking adolescent girls who were walking towards me. I moved ahead, my eyes spotted a newly married couple cheerfully talking to each other.  As I walked, someone pushed me from behind. The man, tall and stocky, looked behind and apologized. His face was craggy and sported a 4 day old stubble. He was followed by his wife and 3 young daughters each carrying a plastic bag. At a closer glance, I realized that the woman was holding a new born baby. “Be Careful!” I screamed at her.

Slowly and Steadily, I took baby steps as I meticulously walked down the stairs with my heavy bags. I stifled a sigh as I reached the platform number 10. I quickly hunted for an empty seat.  I was walking towards the rear end of the platform. I could smell the filthy odour of the sordid Indian Railway toilets; it seemed they hadn’t been cleaned for ages. I soon located a gorgeous damsel of around 25 year’s old standing next to the station masters cabin. I leaned against the walls of the station masters cabin and looked at her. She looked dazzling and stunning in her embroidered dress that she was wearing. Indeed! She was different and there was something which differentiated her from the other girls. I was in pursuit of the missing link which made my heart beat for her.  You could easily find her in an ocean of people, for her attractive features were promising enough to drag you to a fantasy ride. I was shamelessly ogling at her. I smiled at her as she brushed her strands aside. She removed the tiny mirror several times to ensure that she looked pretty. She had completely forgotten the existence of a charming handsome lad in me who could be her chivalrous knight. A beautifully knitted arched eyebrow over her almond shaped eyes adorned her face.  One could plunge deep into the beauty of her dark eyes. I stood there eyeing at her, enjoying the attractive features of her body. Her sharp chiselled nose hosted a tiny nose pin which added to her elegance. Even her long silky black strands could not resist the attractive sight of her eyes that it wanted to kiss her again and again. Her rosy lips, perfectly placed over her angular jaw were the most riveting part of her face. If I were a painter, I would have painted a beautiful portrait of her and placed it on my bed room and worship her every day. She was taciturn. I could sense that I had already fallen for her even without talking a single word with her.
I moved closer to her and smiled. She looked at me and smiled back at me.
“Any idea about the Shatabdi Express,” I asked her, exhibiting a vibrant smile.
“Hey, even I am waiting for it,” she said and continued, “It’s sad that I am standing here since last 45 minutes.”
She offered me a biscuit. After a brief introduction, I invited her to the station mess for some refreshment.  “You seem to be a nice person,” she winked at me as I obediently followed her to the station mess. I listened to her with complete alacrity and smiled at her. We ordered two cutting chai and cheese sandwiches. I took a sip of the chai and said, “It’s such an awesome weather out there.” 
At a closer glance, my eyes were lured to look at her deep cleavage which excited me. I couldn’t take my eyes off it.  I distracted myself by looking at the ‘Jawaharlal Nehru’ photo hung inside the mess. The sight of her luscious breasts was still haunting me inside my mind. We completed our snacks and left for the platform. I looked at her. There was haunting silence for few minutes as our eyes met. I was completely transported to a different world. I moved closer to her and for a moment I failed to witness the hundred pair of eyes that were watching us in sidelines.  I held her so tight and close to me that I could feel her breath.  Her mascara cladden eyes mesmerized me; my heart was so vulnerable that I fell for a stranger whom I met on platform number 10. I wildly ran my fingers on her alluring skin. She voraciously kissed me and I jabbed my lips against hers. She had kindled the romantic in me.
We kissed each other for quite some time. The chai wallah was distracted by our doings to such an extent that he spilled the chai over his customer’s hand.  There were a group of boisterous malicious young teenage boys who raised their hand and clicked pictures of both of us.  A tubby woman of over 40 found us disgusting and ordered her teenage son to close his eyes.  The entire environment was messed up and it could be attributed to us. We sat on the metallic seat and I observed the passengers of the Kolkata bound Duranto Express eying and passing comments on us. My watchful eyes neatly inspected her eyes. I could sense fear but for a moment I was ignorant of things happening around me. I ran my fingers violently across her nape and inside her T shirt. Her back was so soft and alluring that my fingers refused to obey me.  An ensemble of tourists from some European country looked at us in disbelief. No one dared to disturb us. I kissed her once again, this time I ran my fingers inside her T shirt and I could feel her succulent round breasts for once.
“Noo,” she argued.
“Why?” I asked.
“There are people around us.”
“So what?”
“It isn’t good.”
“They don’t know the difference between good and bad,” I winked.
“Listen, we got to stop this,” she requested.
“We could be behind bars for public nuisance,” she pleaded.
“No!” I said, looking straight into her eyes.
I kissed her. It was indeed a different feeling for me. I never thought I would get such a treat. All thanks to the Shatabdi Express. I looked straight into her eyes and smiled at her. She hugged me tight and it was the best day of my life. She gave me momentary happiness as I hopelessly ambled outside the railway station.
“Then don’t stop, keep kissing me,” she said.
The Railway announcement got me out of my reverie.
“Yatrigan kripya dhyan de Kanpur ke liye ravana hone wali Shatabdi Express platform number 10 pe  aa rahi hai.”
I looked around and observed that she was still standing outside the station masters cabin. It was a dream, I thought. I smiled back at her and moved close to her. She felt discomfort. I blew kisses at her and whistled at her. She still moved further from me.  No one in sight was noticing my malicious behaviour towards that gorgeous woman. She glared at me for once and spoke to someone on phone.
After she finished the phone call, I whistled at her once again.
I winked at her and asked, “Hey Chalti kya?”

“Haan bilkul chalege kyu nahi?” I heard a babble of voices from behind. I remained stunned when I was confronted by a group of female constables. One of them slapped me so hard that for once I couldn’t notice things happening around me.  The other constable thrashed me with her stick.
“Madam, please please sorry madam, humhe maaf kardo please.” I pleaded guilty and asked for forgiveness.

“Madam, please humhe  ghar jaana hai…sorry madam please,” I said with teary eyes. Tears rolled down my cheeks as she refused to look at me.

“Abh tum jail jayenge,” the lady constables said in unison.
“I know what you were thinking about me,” she said and continued, “you dirty cheap pervert!” She soon left for the railway police station to file FIR against me.
 Bollywood Superstar Samir Khan entered the scene. He smiled and said, “The woman on platform number 10 was brave enough to tackle eve teasers like him.” He pointed his fingers towards me.
“Women are asset to our nation and we cannot take them for granted. In recent days there has been increasing number of offences in our nation in form of rapes, molestations, physical abuses and different types of crimes against woman. It’s our turn to fight against such issues.  I dream of a tomorrow where women in our country can walk happily on the streets without any fear.”
He smiled and said, “The Government has come up with a helpline number and if you face any issue you can contact the officials by dialling 1091. Trust me it works and it is a 24 hrs helpline number to save the women from our country.”
“I hope someday my dreams come true and that day would be the happiest day of my life.”

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: VIPUL GROVER, Participation Count: 13

The Solitary Writer
Step right up, it's Ste's show! Join me on my writing journey where I dish out witty tales, thought-provoking poems, and quirky musings on life. I'm a social justice warrior who sneaks in some humor wherever I can. Book, movie, and cultural critiques included. Buckle up, it's gonna be a wild ride!