One Night at Padua by Subhadip Majumdar

Hell broke that night at Padua.

The storm came from nowhere and all the colours are sucked by the swarming clouds and the whole earth turned into a primitive black and white canvas. I somehow managed to enter the station before it started raining.I pushed the door and find an absoloutely calm waiting room and almost empty.

Except me there is only a gatekeeper snoozing in his seat near the door.

I walked towards the coffee machine and dropped one euro coin.

The coin returned.

Machine is not working.

Nothing more to do I sit at the bench.From here I can look at the door and it looks that a black night has fallen out and sparks of blue lightning slicing the earth. With the cold increasing it looks quite an alarming prospect. I wonder if the train would come at right time.

I take out the book I am carrying to read. But in the dimly lit room it soon became strenous.

I looked upwards.

My eyes fell on a framed photograph.

I walked towards it.

It's a very old photo.

Beautifully framed.

A train is standing and a group of soldiers smiling before a compartment.

Someone carries the Italian flag.

And it is a beautiful sunlit day.

Old faded but still everything can be seen and understood in that photograph.

'He went in that train and came back here again.'

Suddenly the gatekeeper spoke.

He is no more snoozing.

But still his face down, unconcerned about anything.

'Who went in that train in the photograph?'

I asked.

'My grand father. He served the Italian army in first world war. It is from here he went to the front.'

'Then?'

'Then he came back here at the end of the war. Right in this room. He was injured. His one leg blown off.He carried crutches. Two months he stayed here in a hospital at Padua. Then he went back to America, Texas. He died there.'

'He was an American?'

'No. He was Italian.His wife, American.'

'You came back to Italy?'

'Of course. In my mid 20's. America never suited me. It is always Europe where I want to live my life. I did lived my life full. When I have lost the strengh to travel ,I applied for this gatekeeper job. 

And got it.'

'How old are you?'

'60. This December,I would retire.'

'Then?'

'Nothing.'

Means?

'I have no plan. I am that one soul who never planned anything. Death always comes unplanned.'

I keep silent for a while.

Then I said,

'This photograph belongs to you?'

'Yes, now me. My grandfather gave it to me. I carry it everywhere I go. Specially here.'

'Why?'

'Because here in Padua when my grandfather came back injured ,it is where he found his love.'

'Here?'

'Yes, the girl was the doctor.'

'Then?'

'He lost her. She was deported to some other front. He went back to America.'

'Nothing remained?'

'Everything goes but yet remains somewhere. He always loved her. And when I got my job , I recognized this room straight. It was this part of the room that was used then as hospital. And they made love there.'

'You are some character!' I cannot help saying it.

He smiled.

Then he said, 'Inspite the rain ,your train is coming at right time.'

'How do you know I am going in that train?'

'Everyone catches the train to Milan from Padua. Since the days of my grandfather.'

'What's your name?'

'Joseph.'

The train came at right time. Before I say good bye to the gatekeeper ,I once more looked at the 

photograph.

The smiling soldiers in bright sunlight looked wonderful in this gloomy stormy cold night.

And I have no difficulty in spotting who is the grandfather of Joseph.

His face resembles the same features of honesty that Joseph's face bears.

'Goodbye Joseph. Hope we meet again!'

'Only, if you drop by December here.'

Then he put his face down and start snoozing.

The old photograph shines bright over his head.

I never made to Padua by December that year.

After two years when I made it again there sits a young man and the space over his head is totally blank.

'There used to sit a man named Joseph.'

I said.

The young man looked at me.

Then said,

'Well he died, January the very next month he retired.'

I became numb. I remember his words ,

" Death comes uplanned."

After a while I said,

'And there also used to be  a photograph here too?'

The young man nod his head, and staring at me said,

'Well, Joseph took that too along with him to the grave.'

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