History

10:00pm. Mumbai

I am standing at the entrance of a local train going to Vashi. Its speed is making it rock from side to side. there isnt much to see but fields and the odd cluster of buildings. Only the humid wind feels good on my face. Behind me is the man sitting on a stack of photo albums. He hasnt found a seat, but is working at slipping photographs into the albums. He pushes the snaps into the polythene covers, thats what he does for a living putting snaps into polythene covers.

The people in the pictures are all smiling, i think its the bride and groom. The album in the mans hand is probably the most eagerly awaited piece of documentation for them. The entire family are going to pore over each page carefully, joke over every captured moment. There may be quarrels over turning the pages and taunts about the clothes make up and jewellery. Then the bride and bridegroom will go through it fondly, the groom will make naughty remarks about her poses while she tries to point out her relatives to him, this will go on for some days before the bride places it amidst new sarees in the shelf of a brand new cupboard that still smells of oil paint.

It will be retrieved often in the days to come for the benefit of visiting guests who couldnt attend the ceremony. By this time the plactic on the cover will come off at the corner. Someone else will get married or the couple will go on a trip and the album will then be outdated. It will be placed further back in the cupboard or maybe placed in a bottom drawer together with other papers that are "needed but not now".

A couple of more years while the couple is cleaning, the kids will find the album and go through it, wondering when such a big function took place and more importantly why they arent in it. The most basic study of history. It may be puzzling to find their parents so happy together like they have never seen them. A lot of innocent questions may follow, the mother may give some story even promise to take them for the next such function if they are good. They may be too busy cleaning and let the children figure out things for themselves.

The album will then be "needed but not here" It will be placed in a box and the box will go to the attic . It will stay there throughout the childrens growing up years, and it wont be retrieved while the parents are busy working though their middle age and their ungrateful teenagers argue with them over everything. The album may see daylight during routine cleanings, and if the family decides to shift. The grownups will be gone and the parents will now be alone and too tired to be cleaning the attic. The album will have to wait while they watch their television.

The grownups will come back one day and one afternoon decide to clean up. They will wonder whats in the old boxes and wonder if it is required. Parental gratitude if not paternal love will make them stop the cleaning and go through the entire album. For the parents it will be a revitaliser, a sudden reminder of sweet nothings and starry eyes and soft holding of hands at the sunset. It may also remind them silently of the dreams they had shared. The album will be a part of those dreams, the only scrap they have; like the reciept of the dreams that destiny took away. The grownups will leave in a day or two. This piece of sepia documented history will remain on the coffe table.

The train pulls into Vashi station. The man is now playing with his handset. The photos have all been put into the albums. All history has been documented. A young couple suddenly gets up and come to him, "chalo, lift the albums we have to get down here" The bride says and then frowns. They both appear puzzled as to why i am smiling at them. The train grinds to a halt and i walk away.