The Fortune Teller by Sharmishtha Shenoy

I was on the train speeding towards Darjeeling. I was an only child brought up with a lot of love by my doting parents. They were not very well off as my father was a school teacher. But they wanted me to have a good education, and when I showed an inclination towards arts, they encouraged me to take up English after I finished my twelfth standard with flying colours. I had got admission in the best college and was studying Bachelor of Arts with specialisation in English. I was in the middle of attending a lecture when I was sent for by the Principal. My maternal uncle, who lived near to our house, was waiting there. He had the unenviable task of imparting the news that both my parents had died in a car accident. They had gone to the hospital for a check-up and were coming back in a taxi, which was hit from behind by a truck. The driver was also killed. So now I was an orphan. My maternal uncle took my responsibility and gave me shelter and support during these tragic times.

He took up my responsibility and treated me like his own daughter and helped me overcome this personal loss. But bad luck still dodged me. After I completed my bachelors, English honours with a first class first degree and had taken admission in the University, my Godlike uncle was diagnosed with cancer. I could no longer ask him to support me as he needed every possible rupee for his treatment and future savings for his family. So I decided that I would have to stop further studies and look for a fulltime job.

A good friend of mine Rina told me that there was a position open as a home tutor in Darjeeling. She knew of my penurious circumstances and had heard of this position from her brother Kinshuk. He was the manager of a tea estate. The owner of the tea estate was Mr Joy Mukherjee, a widower. He needed a home tutor for his six years old daughter. Mr Mukherjee was a very wealthy person who owned a number of tea gardens in Darjeeling and Assam. He was always very busy shuttling between his various tea estates and needed someone to take care of his daughter Radha till she could be sent to boarding school at the beginning of the next academic year. The pay was good and I was desperate for a job and money. I decided to take up the offer. So now I had boarded the train from Sealdah station which was rapidly carrying me away from safety and familiarity to the unknown and uncertain future in Darjeeling.

I would have to get down at New Jalpaiguri from where I would take the toy train to Darjeeling station where I would be met by a car and driver. The train arrived on time in New Jalpaiguri station ,a busy railway station in the plains and the toy train was waiting there. After a coolie deposited my considerable luggage in the train, I stepped into a railway carriage which might easily be mistaken for a toy, and the whimsical idea seized me that I had accidentally stumbled into Lilliput. In spite of my recent misfortunes I was delighted on getting up on this train. With a noisy fuss out of all proportion to its size the engine gave a jerk – and started. A well-dressed and dapper looking man rushed into the station and got into the train just as it started to move. He took the only available seat beside me and sat down, panting slightly. I was irritated as I was selfishly hoping that this seat would remain empty so that I could enjoy this pleasant ride in solitude. Leaving New Jalpaiguri station the train passed through the outskirts of Siliguri town and reached Siliguri station. After a short halt the train left Siliguri station and crossed the Mahanadi Bridge over the Mahanadi River which flows from the Himalayan foothills.

After six miles train reached Sukna station from where the real ascent began. I could now notice the change in the local people who had sharp mongoloid features and were mostly Nepali. From here the blue mountain ranges of the foothills were visible and the train quickly rose from the plain passing through tea gardens and forest of teak and sal. As the train climbed up the mountains the climate got much colder. Unfortunately I did not have a sweater so I was feeling slightly cold. Noticing this, the man asked, ‘Do you need a cardigan? I have a spare one.’ I shook my head curtly to indicate I did not want a cardigan. I have always been brought up in a sheltered atmosphere and am shy and wary of talking to strangers. Not at all discouraged by my curtness, my co-passenger glanced out through the window and said, ‘Spectacular! Is it not? So you are a tourist going to Darjeeling?’. I was hesitant to strike up a conversation with a stranger, but did not want to seem rude. So I decided to answer, ‘I am going to a place called Takdah.’