The Scarf- A Small Untold Love Story

A flying Scarf, fell down at his feet.A puff of Jasmine fragrance was in air.Before Arshad could  lift the Scarf, a quivering hand lifted that Scarf.She was Anjali with her parents.An exchange of eyes with amour.He saw Anjali after a gap of 10 years.

Arshad was coloring the last touch of brush on a Sun set painting.Sun was slowly setting down behind hills at other end of Naina Jheel.

A sunset  after all, is welcome  scenery for anyone who’s having a bad day. It tells that finally, today whatever woes went away through will end in a few moments. This colorful Sun set made Arshad to forget that ,” behind every pretty picture there could be an ugly story”.

Arshad lifted his easel, paint boxes, brushes and handed over to helper boy to carry upto his guest house. He was posted in Nainital as Forest Officer.

Sitting on cane chair, Coffee mug on small round table was getting cold, Arshad was inhailing aroma of some memories for which he wished To roll back the clock and take back all sadness.A screaming titehri flown away some where in thick forest.

A nock at door. His orderly was at door with a small box, “a lady has given this box for you”, and he told him.For his surprise,there was a letter without address.The mysterious lines in Hindi:

“Zindagi yun bhi guzar hi jati

   kyon tera rahguzar yaad aaya”. 

Sure it was Anjali. Next two days he searched her at every tourist points of Nainial. He went upto, Bhimtal, Saat Tal, Naukuchia Tal, Bhawali and even Jim Corbett National Park.

The forgotten tales were surfaced.The Auditorium of Abdulla Girls College Aligarh. He was representing his Suleiman Hall in Annual Inter Hall cultural function. He was there to recite his story. Anjali a singer she presented” Rana Akbar Abadi 's” ghazal—

“Sunate hai ke mil jaati har cheese dua se
ek roz tumhe mang ke dekhenge khuda se

Jab kuch na mila hath duao ko uthakar
phir hath uthane hi pade humko dua se

Duniya bhi milli hai ghum-e-duniya bhi mila hai
woh kyo nahi milta jise manga tha khuda se

Tum samane baithe ho to hai kaif ki barish
woh din bhi the jab aag barasti thi ghata se”

After Function ,they chatted each other on Story and ghazal; they performed, on tea table hosted by college. 

Anjali get up from chair ,but her Scarf fell down at his feet.“Your Scarf”------“Thanks”.

It was the one epic moment that gave him a lifetime agony.After that day, he interacted with Anjali in many cultural functions of University. She was from Moradabad and student of B.A in Abdullah Womens College. In Aligarh, she was living with her widow aunty. Arshad was from Bareilly and student of Msc.

One fine day of the autumn vacation, Arshad reached station and was in ques to buy railway ticket from Aligarh to Bareilly. He found Anjali in ladies line.Those were the days when Reservation system was not smart and advanced as today. Bareilly passenger was steam Engine and used to stop at every station.

They boarded in same compartment. Anjali has to change train from Chandausi for Moradabad and Arshad to keeps his journey continue for Bareily in same train.He helped Anjali in shifting her luggage from Bareilly Passenger to Chandausi-- Moradabad passenger.

Love is a delicious feeling that is a mixture of many emotions, attitudes. That is why it is said that the best language to express love is silence, if any, that is the sense of love human mind, which is not meant to be heard but to understand.

They were student of same university, so start and end of holidays were common.They felt at ease and comfort with together. They developed a silent harmony that at every holiday they will travel in Bareilly Passenger, and will wait at station for other to come. At return journey both will wait for each other at Chandausi Railway station.

Slowly the seed of endearment sprouted among them.They used to exchange festival pakwans and sweets with each other at Chandausi railway station.They never wanted the end of this three hours journey.It was their passion.This waiting and travelling together continued for two years.

In one long summer vacation journey at Babrala railway station, a group of boys and girls with musical instruments entered in the same compartment.After siting with comfort on seats, they started playing with musical instruments singing....

“Chale aj tum jahan se hui zindagi parayi
Tumhe mil gaya thikana Hume maut bhi na ayi

O door ke musafir Hum ko bhi saath le le re
Hum ko bhi saath le le Hum rah gaye akele

Tune vo de diyaa gham bemaut mar gaye Hum
Dil uth gayaa jahaan se le chal Hume yahaan se

Suni hai dil ki raahe khamosh hai nigahe
Nakam hasarato kaa uthane ko hai janaza

Charo taraf lage hai barabadiyo ke mele re
Hum ko bhi saath le le Hum rah gaye akele”

All passengers were mesmerized by the lyric, but Arshad was agonized as he saw that Anjali was weeping, tears were dropping from her eyes.

Anjali stepped down at Chandausi station,“I will not return again to continue my further education”, she told him. Why?

“My parents want this, they are suspicious about us”.Arshad was disheartend hearing this news.Both were feeling uneasiness.

Her train was was coming on other platform, for which she has to cross over foot bridge.Reaching at top of bridge ,she turned back ,looked at him, cleaned her wet eyes with her scarf and dropped it.

Arshad ran to pick that scarf, but his train whistled.He turned away towards his compartment to board in.His train was leaving palate form. Anjali was still standing over stairs of foot bridge ,at one point she disappeared from his gaze. Arshad wished to weep and cry in agony.He stroked his head with compartment window.

At 5.30AM Bareilly passenger reached at  its last stopage “Bareilly” to  finish its journey .

The journey of Arshad was continued, last stoppage of destiny un-known.After completing his M.sc, he joined Indian Forest Service (IFS).He was posted in Nainital as Forest Officer.He started painting ,to express his emotions.”Sun set” was his most favourite Niche of painting.

Today he was painting a “Setting Sun” at Nain Jheel, when the Pink Scarf the identity of Anjali fell down at his Feet.

After 40 years.

Now Arshad was an internationally recognized Artist.His paintings were exhibited in famous Art Galleries and get auctioned in Lacs.

He was in France; to attend an international conference on Art.His painting works were on exhibit at 59 Rivoli Art Gallery of Paris.Next day was fixed for inauguration.

After four days, he opened his eyes.Sister kept her hand full of love over his fore head,

“So—you are now awake, that is good”.

Sister --where am I? You are in ICCU.

What happened to me.Heart attack?

After two days, he was shifted from ICCU to other room.His wife Farhat was besides him reciting Holy Quran.Sister enterd in room and told him that a lady wants to meet him she was also admitted in iccu the same day with you.To day she has been discharged.

His heart tossed inside his chest to break; blood boiled in head and a second heart attack was….He was dazed…

Anjali was at door, Pink salwar with green border and same Kolhapuri chappals in feet, parting hair line without vermilion, Neck without Mangal sutra.

“I am Anjali from Moradabad,  A great fan of Artist Arshad Saheb ,I live with my younger brother,who has settled in France and works as a Charted Accountant “.

Farhat offerd her chair to sit.”Through media I came to know that Arshad Saheb is here in France”.After some time,his brother entered in room.”My brother has paid yours bills too”.Anjali told and raised up the chair.

Her scarf fell down. Scarf was again fallen down.

“Your Scarf”, Farhat told her.

“Thanks”.

Anjali turned and said—“Chandausi aur Aligarh ka station ab bhut badal gaya hai, bada bhi hogaya hai.Bareilly passenger train ab Aligarh ke platform no 4  par khadi hoyi hai”.

Story written and posted by Engr Maqbool Akram ,photos are taken from Net with thanks.

Zindagi  ke  safar mein  guzar  jate  hain jo  maqam,

woh   phir  nahin  aate,  


phool  khilte  hain,  log  milte  hai

Patjhad  main  jo  phool  murjha  jate hain

Woh  baharon  ke  aane  se  khilte  nahin

kuchh  log  ek  roz  jo  bichad  jate  hain

Woh  hazaron  ke  aane  se  milte  nahin

umr  bhar  chahe  koi  pukara  kare  unka  naam

The End