Its 2pm and I have a train to board after around six hours. My sister and me are first time on the same team. We’ve spread all my things on the floor. “This?” she asks. Giving a confirmatory nod, I continue neatly rolling up and stowing my clothes in my Nasher miles Trolley. We were a good team. She was like an apprentice, learning the nitty gritty of packing. Heavy eyelids and puffed-up eyes, no other alternative but to continue and clear up the mess. We had to go to Siliguri Market too for currency exchange. “Ow budo, weight napney lew tah” (Bring me the weighing scale) I shout to my friend. He takes off his headphones and from his busy work from room schedule he takes out his magical “Dr. Trust” weighing scale. I say magical, because once we had identical weight with accuracy up to two decimal places.
At long last, the packing was done. Me and my sister rush towards Siliguri market. We reach "Sevoke More"(Name of a junction). We climb to a rikshaw heading towards “International Market” where the currency exchange was located. The rickshaw bhaiya tugs the three-wheeler. The reminiscence of a similar rickshaw ride, familiar place was inoculating in my mind a beauteous dose of nostalgia. I smile through the memories of me and her taking a 50Rs ticket to Payel hall. The movie had already started, and we entered to the nothingness crawling our way through the balcony. Broken seats, sunlight creeping in from the bamboo, mud and cement amalgamated walls. It was not sumptuous as INOX. We didn’t care. This was one of the most adventitious plans that we had. We were unbothered in our utopia. Looking around, there were multiple other utopias. “Ow dada, ka harayo!” (Where are you lost!) My sister exclaimed. In matter of minutes, I had relived hours in my parallel world.
Okay, I go to this currency exchange counter with a bundle of 500 Rs currency notes. Distracted with the ambience inside that HDFC bank like office a, ‘tok tok tok’ sound on the glass window, wakes me up to my senses. I take the envelope given to me by the guy. He asked me for autograph with teary eyes like the way Nobita asks Doraemon for gadgets. I couldn’t help but sign a few papers, which he will cherish all his life. I open the envelope. “Sahi khel gaya!” (He played me well). To my despair, lay a single pair less, friendless, lonely 500 Euro currency note! I was in shambles for some seconds like that child who gets sad with a 500Rs note and elated with multiple 10Rs note. I gave him a bundle which my hand could barely hold, and he gives me a single large, depressed piece of paper. “Shit, its going to be a sad and broke life ahead” my hippocampus whispers to my prefrontal cortex.
We go back to my friend’s place for last finishing touches to the luggage and head towards my aunt’s place for last home lunch. I get to see the ukulele I ordered, which I am taking with me to Italy. The hours at these types of moments are swift and stealthy! The moment of my departure had come. My friend called his favorite auto wala bhaiya (we call it promo-code wala bhaiya). Three people accompanied me to the New Jalpaiguri railway station. My cousin bhai, my sister and my friend. We reached early, and I see my teary-eyed sister and smile back to make her feel better. I see the railway tracking app and the train was late. I told my sister to go back because it would be late. They bid me goodbye. I kept on refreshing the tracking app, just to realize that the train would come in another platform. I had to carry three bags, an ukulele, a backpack and climb upstairs walk for a while on the footbridge and climb downstairs to another platform. My hands felt like I had executed a deadlift. A distinct squealing of the train alerts me and I scramble my way to my personal First-class AC cabinet!