The Ownership

It was a hot and humid summer, about a decade and a half ago. I used to work with a very small outdoor advertising agency in Kolkata with a dream to be better than myself. I had to frequently travel to and fro from Burdwan for work.

On my return train to Kolkata from Burdwan during one such trip, I bought a pack of cigarettes and a Bengali Daily to read while traveling. There was a train coming from Delhi with lots of empty berths inside, and I just occupied one of them, without giving it much thought. I put my backpack and the cigarette pack along with my newspaper on the side upper berth and sat by the window seat, just below my belongings.

A person, around 50, with a smiley face came a few minutes later and occupied the seat opposite mine. He may have been about my father’s age, perhaps a bit younger, with a fair complexion and a thin moustache and had spectacles on. I thought he had returned to his seat from the toilet. As the train started, I made myself comfortable, lit a cigarette—smoking inside the train compartment did not use to be a big deal then—and started reading the newspaper I had brought along. Going through the headlines and turning to the next page, I glanced over and to my utter surprise, saw the man taking out a cigarette from my pack of cigarettes. Although it didn’t please me, I chose to quietly ignore it. But that wasn’t all. He then calmly took out an inside page from the newspaper in my hand and started reading. It annoyed me, but I still didn’t say anything as this was somewhat usual behavior in West Bengal, where one newspaper was often shared by more than one person. The involuntary sharing of the cigarette was bothering me more. After all, I had just spent 19 rupees of my hard-earned money on the pack/I had got the packet for Rupees 19!

The train had reached half way to Kolkata by now and had halted at a small station. I went out to get myself a cup of tea and returned to 'my seat' a little later. The man was still reading the paper, this time the back page. I opened my cigarette pack and found another cigarette gone. I presumed he must have taken the vanished cigarette. This was too much! But I still didn’t say anything and as I lit another cigarette, the man spoke. ‘Where are you going? he asked me.

'Kolkata,' I replied.

'Do you live in Kolkata?'

His eyes were still glued to the paper.

'Nah… I am from Murshidabad, working in Kolkata.'

'OK, very well'.

Frankly speaking, those were very common words and I was not interested in talking to him at all. He took my cigarettes without asking for permission! I started looking out the window.

'You can read the newspaper now. This is my station. I am getting down'

He took another cigarette from the pack and getting ready to rebuke his baggage beneath the seating area.

I was furious. He had taken at least four cigarettes from my packet! But I still could not say anything. He seemed to have an ability to get things done the way he wanted.

'No, I am ok. You can take the newspaper with you', I answered, maybe a bit roughly.

He smiled and said, 'Thanks. Actually I don't read newspapers much. But habit is bigger than desire. You keep the paper,'

With that, he lifted his things and stood firmly.

'This is disgusting!' I told myself. After taking away almost half my cigarette pack, he now wants to show-off his generosity/magnanimity by letting me keep my own newspaper! But I did not say anything aloud. I just wanted to get rid of him.

He left the train; and I left my anger on another way; I was tired and wanted to visit the toilet before disembarking for my destination. As I stood up, I looked at my luggage on the upper berth. I couldn’t believe my eyes—the cigarette pack and the newspaper I had brought along were there with my bag, untouched!

Then it hit me.

The man was gone. But I can still see his face, here, even today.

Welcome

Welcome. Welcome on and off from myself.