It was a pleasant evening on the 25th of March. Ashwini was sitting at his in-laws’ place. He knew that he had to leave the next morning—three thousand kilometers away. He no longer missed his parents as much. He had gotten used to living alone.
"Here, have a drink."
"What?" Ashwini looked at his wife in surprise. He used to drink occasionally at parties and she'd fight with him the entire night. But today, she herself was offering?
"Sorry, yaar... for that day... You apologize every day. I won't stop you today. Drink as much as you want."
Perhaps that’s what Ashwini wanted too. But today, he just couldn’t bring himself to drink. He managed to take just one sip. His wife lovingly insisted he eat. But he wasn’t really eating—he was just swallowing food mechanically.
He was to leave by train in the morning, leaving behind his wife. They had been married for only a month and a half. Her mehendi hadn’t even faded yet. Yes, he had left his parents too, but he had spent twenty-six years with them. When he spends twenty-six years with his wife, he’ll leave peacefully—after dinner, not by forcing it down like today.
It was 11 at night. Ashwini sat outside in the courtyard. Although the in-laws lived in a city, traditions still prevailed. All the neighborhood women had gathered. They were asking him riddles and teasing him, but Ashwini’s heart was with his wife, in the room. He had forgotten that he was to leave tomorrow. All he remembered was that he had the whole night to talk to his wife.
Ashwini excused himself and returned to the room. His wife entered with a jug of water. She placed it on the table and turned to leave. Ashwini held her hand.
"Please... don't go out now. Look at the time—it's already eleven. We barely have seven hours left, and I need at least four hours of sleep. That leaves just three hours! You’ll be with me for only three hours now—before we are separated for over three months. Please... close the door."
His wife said, “Yaar, the women are sitting outside... it wouldn’t look good.”
Ashwini chuckled, "To hell with the women! Yaar, I’ll be back after four months."
She closed the door.
"What kind of man are you? You’re a soldier... and this?"
Tears streamed down Ashwini's face. He knew he would leave in the morning... leave behind his newlywed bride. But these tears—he had seen the same ones in her eyes for the past ten days. There was no difference between hers and his. The ones in her eyes he used to swallow—but now, who would do that for months?
This was the pain of separation—flowing from the heart to the eyes. But a soldier doesn't cry. He dies. He vanishes. But never cries.
Morning arrived.
His wife had repacked all his belongings in the bag, neatly arranged. His mother had packed it when he was heading to his in-laws'. She had even prepared food for the journey. Back then, his father had accompanied him to the station. Rahul had come too. The train had arrived, started moving. Their waving hands faded away into the distance.
But now, those memories weren’t in his mind.
Just fifteen minutes left now.
The train was about to arrive. His brother-in-law and his wife’s friend had come to the station. Ashwini and his wife were laughing and talking. She knew he was faking it. So did he. They were pretending to talk. Inside, a storm was raging.
The train arrived. Ashwini boarded. He looked for his berth but couldn’t find it. He kept his luggage and came back to the door. The train started moving. His wife waved. Ashwini tried to wave back but couldn’t lift his hand. Slowly, the crowd on the platform became a blur, and his wife faded into it.
He dragged himself back toward his luggage. He checked his ticket again. He looked at the man sitting on the opposite berth, who silently handed his own ticket. Ashwini saw that both tickets had the same berth number. He returned the ticket and checked his PNR number. A beep—his berth had been upgraded.
Dragging his luggage, he moved toward the AC 2-tier coach.
It was his first time traveling in AC 2-tier. He lay down on the upper berth. Everyone had drawn the curtains. No faces visible—except one. His wife's. But she wasn’t here—just her fresh memories.
Her memories turned into tears rolling down his cheeks.
This was the second time he cried due to separation. The first time was when he left home for hostel. And now, this.
She hadn’t even reached home yet when Ashwini dialed her number—
“Hello... hello, Shweta? Reached home?”
“No... Did you get your berth?”
“Yeah... I’ll call when you get home.”
He hung up.
Ashwini felt utterly alone. He thought—how unfortunate are the ones who travel in AC 2-tier. They can’t even see one another's faces. Sleeper class is better. At least you can chat with people.
How will he survive this lonely journey of more than two days?
Even if he opens a book, he will see her face.
Every moment was burdensome.
His wife had packed snacks and meals for the journey. But how could he eat when he didn’t feel like it?
His phone battery was dying. He searched his bag, but the charger was missing. Disheartened, he called again. His wife could only say “hmm” and “huh.” She couldn’t speak. Ashwini knew why—she was crying. Her eyes must be swollen. That’s why she couldn’t talk.
Still, Ashwini asked, “Shweta, where’s the phone charger?”
“That... that’s still here.” She replied with a choked voice.
Ashwini said, “Okay, doesn’t matter. Don’t cry like this... I’ll be back soon. I’m going on duty. Stay strong. Don’t make me weak. Take your medicine, and don’t swallow that lozenge tablet!”
She could only whisper, “Yes.”
The journey was 40 hours long. Twelve hours had passed. Ashwini wasn’t hungry or thirsty. Just the memories of Shweta filled him—of the days spent together and dreams of the days ahead.
He sat. He slept. He was silent. So was the whole coach. Educated people. Perhaps speaking would tarnish their image of civility.
The phone beeped. A message from Shweta—
“Eat your food. Don’t worry about me. I took the medicine. Take care of yourself—and don’t stare at girls now! Who’ll put their finger in your mouth now?”
Ashwini smiled remembering how he used to tease her—“Look, how hot that girl is!” And she’d get mad.
When he yawned, she would put her finger in his mouth. But today, not a single yawn came. Maybe even the yawns had been replaced by this sadness.
Ashwini was a soldier. He got leave only two or three times a year. And it wasn’t easy to travel from such a distant place. He had just finished one leave. He might return after three or four months. Until then, he would be away from Shweta.
He thought—this is just the first time after marriage. Soon I’ll get used to this. Even couples who live together fight. Long distance makes love stronger.
His heart argued with itself—but the heart wouldn’t listen.
Ashwini read her message again. And again.
Now Ashwini sat on a chair in the lawn. All soldiers had left for their duties. It was a moonlit night. His food had been served, but he wasn’t hungry. He looked at the Saptarishi constellation to locate the North. But he had lost the North within himself.
Just then, a soldier asked, “Sir, when will you eat?”
Ashwini replied:
“After three and a half months.”
He looked at the North Star.
---
© Anand Singh Chouhan
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