chapter 3 The Same Rhythm
1597 Words
The Same Rhythm
She returned to her seat after changing out of her rain-soaked clothes.
A few drops of rain still clung to the ends of her hair, slipping quietly along the curve of her neck.
She took out her book.
Opened it.
But the sounds inside the coach seemed unusually clear that evening.
A child crying somewhere nearby.
A conversation from the berth across the aisle.
The faint clink of tea glasses.
And beneath it all, the wheels moving over the tracks in their endless, measured rhythm.
She read a line.
Then read the same line again.
Her hand slowly disappeared into her bag.
One pocket.
Another.
Again.
Her fingers suddenly stopped.
“Oh... shit.”
Her earbuds.
She had forgotten them.
He noticed.
Without asking anything, he removed one of the earbuds from his own ear and held it out to her.
“If you don't mind... take it.”
She looked at the earbud, then at him.
“Ah...”
A small smile touched her lips.
“That’s kind of you.”
He merely shrugged.
“No big deal.”
He tapped something on his phone.
A moment later, a soft Hindi love song filled her ear.
It wasn't on her playlist.
It wasn't even the kind of music she usually listened to.
And yet...
Within the first few notes, something about it found a quiet place inside her.
She said nothing.
She simply listened and returned to her book.
It wasn't her music.
It was his.
Perhaps that was why it felt strangely special.
Her eyes moved back to the pages.
Across from her, he was looking at the book.
At the pencil marks beneath certain lines.
At the tiny notes she had left along the edges of the pages.
His eyes paused at one particular passage.
He tried to read another.
Then looked up.
“It seems good.”
A brief pause.
“But...”
She looked at him.
“But?”
He smiled.
“Kya hua?”
“Kuch nahi.”
His gaze returned to the book.
“I can understand Malayalam.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“But can you read it?”
He fell silent for a moment.
“So... tum... I mean, can you...”
She understood immediately.
“Ahh... samajh gayi.”
Laughing softly, she turned the book towards him.
“Don't worry.”
“I’ll explain it to you.”
He smiled.
“Really?”
His eyes fell upon the title.
Aadhyam... Ennodu.
To the One I Love Most.
She began to read.
One line.
Then its meaning.
Then the next passage.
In her voice, the story slowly came alive.
When she spoke of a character's pain, her voice softened.
When happiness entered the story, a quiet brightness appeared in her eyes.
Sometimes she stopped and explained a passage in her own words.
He listened.
At first, to understand the story.
Then...
to the way she told it.
He began to realise that she wasn't merely a reader.
She was someone who disappeared into a story the moment she held one in her hands.
Every word she spoke became an image in his mind.
Pages turned, one after another.
Neither of them noticed how quickly the hours passed.
Stations slipped behind them.
The rain came.
Stopped.
Then returned.
But beside their little table, the story continued.
Eventually, she closed the book.
For a moment, he remained looking at its cover.
“It's actually beautiful.”
She smiled.
“Hmm.”
“Especially the way you explained it.”
She said nothing.
She rested the book on her lap.
Outside, the rain had begun to fall harder.
He turned towards the window.
“Why do you love rain this much?”
She looked outside.
A faint smile appeared.
“I think... he is a good friend to me.”
“He?”
“Rain.”
Her finger followed the path of a raindrop sliding down the glass.
“You know... when I was in school, whenever I wanted to go outside, there would be no rain.”
He laughed.
“Really?”
“Hmm.”
“But whenever I was inside the classroom... or at home...”
She gave a small shrug.
“He wouldn't come.”
A moment of thought.
“Maybe he didn't want to make my uniform wet.”
He laughed.
“Maybe.”
She looked outside again.
“But whenever I really want to touch him...”
There was something almost childlike in her eyes.
“He comes to me.”
He watched her for a while.
“So... you love rain more than anything in the world?”
She immediately shook her head.
“Nooo.”
Then laughed.
“I love my family more.”
Her voice softened.
“More than anything.”
She didn't say much after that.
But he understood.
There were certain people who formed the centre of her world.
Her father.
Her mother.
Her brother.
“I’m really lucky,” she said.
“To be their child.”
A brief silence.
“And the youngest one in my family.”
“Lucky girl.”
“Very.”
She looked out at the rain.
“Rain is different, though.”
“How?”
“When rain touches me...”
She searched for the right words.
“I feel like I’m somewhere else.”
“A parallel world.”
He listened quietly.
“Other times, my loved ones are always around me. Their love... everything.”
A faint smile crossed her face.
“But when rain comes...”
Her eyes remained fixed on the world beyond the glass.
“I don't even have to feel the pain that comes from being loved.”
He said nothing.
The words stayed with him for a while.
The pain that comes from being loved.
He didn't ask what she meant.
She didn't need to explain.
The conversation slowly drifted elsewhere.
He learned that she was travelling to Delhi.
He was travelling home as well.
He spoke about his parents.
His father.
His mother.
Their only son.
He never gave their names.
But somehow, they were present in every word he spoke about them.
She understood.
His world was small too.
But the people inside it were enormous.
For a while, they spoke about family.
Without names.
Without introductions.
Without knowing exactly who the other person was.
Then the conversation turned towards the country.
India.
Politics.
People.
Change.
Their opinions did not always meet.
Sometimes he argued.
She argued back.
Sometimes she defeated him with nothing more than a laugh.
Sometimes, he won.
Then came sports.
“Football.”
“Cricket.”
She laughed.
“Typical.”
“What’s wrong with cricket?”
“Nothing.”
“Then?”
“I just prefer football.”
“Do you play?”
She looked at him.
“Maybe.”
He laughed.
“Again?”
She laughed too.
“Fine. Yes. I play.”
“Seriously?”
“Very seriously.”
“Then someday we'll see who's better.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“Don't challenge me.”
He laughed.
She turned towards the window.
Then the conversation wandered towards travelling and cars.
“Yeah... I like cars.”
“Only cars?”
She smiled.
“But you know what I love more when it rains?”
“What?”
“A bike ride.”
Her eyes drifted towards the landscape outside.
“Especially through the high-range roads.”
“Rain... wind... that cold breeze...”
She fell silent for a moment.
“And all that green around you.”
There was already the chill of those roads in her voice.
“There’s something about riding through those roads when it rains.”
A small smile appeared.
“You feel... completely free.”
He looked at her.
“So you like driving too?”
“A lot.”
“Cars, bikes, rain, football...”
He smiled.
“You have quite a list.”
“Maybe.”
“I'm crazy about cars.”
She laughed.
“I can tell.”
Outside, the rain grew heavier again.
Their conversation slowly faded into silence.
She looked through the window.
He looked at her.
He still knew almost nothing about her.
Not even her name.
But he knew her stories.
Her love for rain.
The way she held her family close.
Her passion for football.
Her fascination with cars.
The world she disappeared into whenever she opened a book.
The way her face changed when her eyes smiled.
She was different from anyone he had met before.
And somehow...
so was he.
She herself found it strange how natural it felt to talk to him.
She knew almost nothing about him.
And yet...
his voice had already begun to feel familiar.
He was different from the people she had known before.
He never tried to impress her.
He simply existed beside her—
and somehow, without trying, had already captured her attention.
Not slowly.
Not deliberately.
Before she had even realised it.
She turned towards the window.
Raindrops traced their quiet paths down the glass.
Something had changed.
Something very small.
Too small to be given a name.
But her heart...
had already noticed.
She didn't know how, within a single journey,
a stranger could begin to feel so familiar.
She didn't know—
that the distance between him and her heart was disappearing faster than her mind could understand.
The train moved forward through the rain.
Silence settled between them once again.
But this time...
it was not the silence of strangers.
It was the silence of something that had already begun.
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