The reading room attached to the library was crowded. The Sunday visitors were on the ‘rampage’. The tables were almost empty. But, when I was about to leave, one of the readers put down a magazine. I picked it up, not because it was very interesting. It contained a couple of political articles and a few attractive photos….Then, by chance, I came across an interesting piece….a regular column. I would have skipped even this but for the mention of the hill station. “Twenty years have past, twenty summers….and I was in Ooty again…..when I expressed my desire to visit Ooty, my husband said, ‘ok, you can take our kids with you…..[Thank god, he was not coming with us!]. I was born and brought up in Ooty. I enjoyed the visit after a long gap but I could not meet any of my friends….Anyway, my kids were enjoying every bit of the visit especially the journey from Ooty to Mettupalayam by train….the mountain train, as they called it. It was 3.00 PM and the train was on the move and I saw him with raised hands but it was too late. I waved my hands. Yeah, it was the very same chap”.
It was a pleasant surprise to me as well. All my doubts vanished into thin air—she was the very same person whom I used to see in the good old library. By the way, the other day I was reading a short story and when it took a dramatic turn, I was prompted to create something similar! Sorry for my humble attempt to imitate a great writer!