The Last Train to Courage
A timid lover, a chocolate box, and the world’s strangest proposal.
“Neha is leaving in an hour. To London. Forever.” Amit burst into Rahul’s room, panting like a mad dog chasing an idiotic cat. “Go and confess your love before she disappears forever!” he managed to blurt, wheezing between words.
Rahul’s heart tickled him as if it were laughing at his misery. His body began crying—sweat trickling down his forehead, back, and from places he didn’t even know had sweat glands.
Rahul’s biggest achievement in college was staring at Neha without getting caught. He could top exams, debate in competitions, even win chess matches blindfolded. But walking up to Neha? That was Olympic-level impossible.
He’d stand twenty feet away, pretending to buy burgers from the canteen, sneaking glances. When she laughed, his knees turned to noodles. When she looked in his direction, he suddenly found ceiling fans fascinating, as though they were objects of deep academic research.
Once, he even rehearsed saying “Hi.” He made it three steps toward her before his throat dried and he detoured to the washroom. He spent twenty minutes there practicing “Hi” to the mirror—until the janitor asked if he was in love with the mirror itself.
Timid. That was Rahul. A man of thoughts, never action.
The only one who ever tried to push him forward was Raveena, his best friend. “One day you’ll regret it,” she often teased, rolling her eyes whenever Rahul froze mid-step. But teasing was all she did—Rahul assumed she enjoyed playing cupid more than anything.
Now, on the last day of college, if he didn’t confess his love, Rahul would lose Neha forever.
So he wiped his sweaty palms on his two-wheeler seat, clutched the cheap plastic ring he had managed to buy, and drove to the railway station with Amit. To confess his love. To stop Neha from leaving him. And finally become more courageous.
And this time, for the first time, Rahul wasn’t just thinking. He was going to try.
***
Rahul’s best friend Raveena also happened to be Neha’s roommate. When Rahul finally confessed his feelings to her, Raveena told him that there was someone else in Neha’s life.
When Rahul looked like he was about to cry, she said. “Write a letter. Neha loves handwritten things. There’s no harm in trying,” she suggested with a grin.
So Rahul did. He poured his engineering heart into it:
Your smile is brighter than the hostel’s LED lights. Your voice is deeper than the generator.
When you walk past, my heart races faster than the thief sprinting after stealing underwear from the boys’ toilet.
But Rahul couldn’t bring himself to sign it. He left the letter with Raveena, begging her not to reveal his identity.
The next day, Neha read the anonymous letter aloud to her friends. Then, in her own dramatic way, she smashed the LED lights of the entire hostel, cursed the generator until it sputtered, and promised she’d personally catch the underwear thief.
Rahul watched from a corner, stomach sinking. Sweat poured from him in such torrents that even ten janitors couldn’t mop up the floor.
He swore never to try writing a letter again, hoping to find the ‘special someone’ in Neha’s life.
At the annual fest, Rahul stood in the crowd, gazing at Neha from afar. Raveena nudged him again. “Why don’t you pay the singer and dedicate a song to her? She likes those filmy gestures.”
Rahul handed 200 rupees to the guitarist, who introduced a brand-new singer. When the singer opened his mouth, people realized pigs grunted better. The crowd tried to boo him offstage, but he stubbornly croaked through the song—after all, he’d been paid.
“This one is for the most beautiful girl in college,” the singer bellowed, “from your secret admirer!”
The audience groaned, covering their ears. A tea seller dropped his kettle in shock, and someone shouted ‘Refund!’ even though entry was free.
But Neha blushed.
Rahul nearly fainted from joy—until the singer pointed at the tall basketball player in the front row. The crowd erupted. Everyone assumed the dedication was for him.
Rahul’s eyes stung as Neha ran to hug the player. But at least now he knew who the ‘special someone’ was for Neha.
On Valentine’s week, Rahul tried again with a different plan. He managed to bribe the cook to make special food for the basketball players for the entire valentine’s week, one which makes them go to the loo several times a day.
When the first part of his plan succeeded, he proceeded towards the second part. He stole his friend’s underwear and hid it inside the toilet. When the basketball player rushed to the toilet, he informed the warden who caught him red handed with the stolen underwear. The basketball player was thrown out not just from the men’s toilet but also the basketball team.
Rahul then continued with his plan, knowing nobody could come between his love. He left a chocolate box at Neha’s door each morning, certain she’d find them.
Instead, the hostel dogs did. He found them licking each other’s faces in delight, their confused noses forgetting the real target behind the tails.
The chocolates? Gone. Rahul almost wanted to eat the dog food in revenge. But the warden spotted him, and Rahul had to give up on the idea quickly.
The next day, he hung the chocolates on Neha’s doorknob, high out of the dogs’ reach. When Neha opened the door, the dogs leapt like Olympic athletes, snarling for the box. Distracted, Neha lost her grip, and the metallic chocolate tin clonked her right on the forehead. A neat little mark bloomed above her brow.
The hostel guard nearly blew his whistle, thinking it was a terrorist attack.
Rahul watched in horror as Neha tossed the box straight into a fire.
Now, at the station, as the final hour ticked away, Rahul’s old habits returned. He thought, She won’t like me. She never did. Not the quiet guy who hides behind pillars. If I go as me, she’ll laugh.
Amit spotted Neha at a distance. But Rahul spotted the handsome man who accompanied her. It wasn’t the basketball player. He made Amit wait for him outside as he wanted to finally be courageous. As Rahul walked towards Neha, thoughts clogged his mind. Is that her new boyfriend? Did the basketball player finally die by going to the loo? What should I do now? Kill the new guy before I propose to Neha?
He was not as handsome as the man accompanying Neha, but he had love in his heart and a metal chocolate box for her. So he decided to take his chance — by masquerading as someone else.
He spotted a street magician on the platform — cheap hat, glitter cape, pulling coins from thin air. Rahul offered him 500 rupees for the costume. The man agreed instantly.
Minutes later, Rahul, half-hidden under the hat, cape fluttering, stood in front of Neha as the train prepared to leave.
“Madam,” he announced in a shaky, disguised voice, “I have come from afar… to ask a question.”
Neha blinked, opened her wallet, and handed Rahul a coin.
Rahul froze. “No! I am—not a beggar! I am a magician!”
People nearby gathered, intrigued. Someone began filming.
“I am so sorry,” Neha’s guilt made her open her red purse again. “Take this.” She handed another coin to Rahul.
Rahul’s heart pounded like a faulty washing machine. He held out the plastic ring. “Neha, I love you. Please… marry me.”
The platform went silent.
Neha stared. The train horn screamed. “Excuse me? I don’t even know you.”
Rahul thought of revealing his identity. But he couldn’t dare. So he did the unthinkable. “Look, I was the one who left the letter, the chocolate box and the message with the singer in college.” He closed his eyes and hoped his emotions would be clearer to Neha.
When Neha didn’t speak for a while, he opened his eyes. Neha stood close to him, blowing hot, furious air on his face. There was so much heat that Rahul felt he could roast a live chicken with it.
“You were the one who left this mark on my temple?” She pointed at the mark with her pretty, furious hands.
Rahul swallowed and tried to take a step back, but she grabbed his collar and pulled him forward. “I… I didn’t want to. It was a mistake. Of the dogs,” Rahul said.
Neha gritted her teeth so hard the peanut nearby broke itself into pieces. She breathed fire like a devil, her body shaking as if ready to burst into a volcano. She clenched her left hand and, with her right, delivered a tight slap to Rahul. The slap was so hard Rahul fell to the floor. His cheap cap surrendered. His wig hair died on the spot. A porter’s suitcase toppled over, as if it too had fainted from the impact.
Rahul’s face was burning like a stove, but he tried to hide it with his hands.
“Rahul? Is that you?” Neha walked to him and pushed his hands away from his face. The crowd witnessing the drama ran forward, ready to kick and punish the fake magician — aka Rahul. But Neha stopped them and told them to leave.
“You know me?” Rahul massaged his face as if it were a fire extinguisher.
“Of course. You were the class topper. Everybody knew you.” Neha looked embarrassed, then realized what Rahul had said before she slapped him.
Rahul noticed her emotions flip from guilt to confusion. “Look, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you back then. I just wanted…” He stopped. Fear clogged his words.
“Wanted?” Neha creased her brows.
Rahul closed his eyes. The train honked. He knew this was his moment or he would lose Neha forever. “I just wanted to tell you how I felt about you.”
Neha smiled, looked at Rahul, and helped him to his feet. “Why didn’t you tell me directly?” She folded her arms.
Rahul breathed in deep. “I was just too timid. Too afraid you’d reject me.”
Then Neha smiled. “You idiot.”
Rahul blinked. “What?”
“I don’t care about magicians or disguises. I don’t care about letters or songs or chocolates. I like courage and confidence more than anything.”
Rahul’s jaw dropped. He looked at the handsome man standing behind her — the one with the strong arms and heavy build. The man waved. Rahul hesitantly waved back.
“He is my brother,” Neha said, then turned back to Rahul.
Rahul’s heart unclenched. He wanted to gasp but realised Neha was still standing before him.
“Come on, hurry up. The train will start any moment,” Neha’s handsomely heavy brother said.
Neha nodded, then turned to Rahul. “Look, I don’t want to hurt your feelings. But there’s someone else. Someone special.”
Rahul’s eyes misted. He nodded. “Of course — the basketball player…”
Neha tapped his arm. He looked at her hand and then at her. She shook her head. “No, it’s not him. We just dated for a day.” She then pointed to the train. “I like courageous people.”
A person appeared at the train door and waved. Rahul squinted to see who it was. His eyes popped as he recognised her. It was Raveena — his best friend, the same person who had advised him to write the letter and make the stupid band sing for Neha.
“Raveena confessed her love to me before everyone. She has a lot of courage,” Neha smiled, looking at Raveena from a distance.
Raveena got off the train and walked toward Rahul. “Told you —there was someone else in Neha’s life. Someone special.” she winked.
She plucked the plastic ring from his trembling hand and smiled. “Don’t worry — I’ll slip it on Neha’s finger.”
Rahul’s mind continued having tremors of pain, anger and betrayal.
The whistle blew. Neha and Raveena stepped onto the train. Neha turned back and called out, “Now stop being timid. Come to London for our marriage. No disguises. And be courageous, Rahul.”
As the train pulled away, Rahul stood there, cape askew, heart thundering. For the first time in his life, he had actually tried. He didn’t know what to do with Raveena’s betrayal or with the news that Neha and Raveena were getting married.
The handsome man turned toward Rahul and smiled. Rahul smiled back and began to leave.
“Wait,” the man called, striding over. He flexed his heavy arms and winked. “I like timid men. Maybe we should go to London together.”
Rahul’s eyes nearly jumped out of his skull. Neha’s words echoed in his head: Be courageous. And he remembered Amit, waiting outside, hoping his timid friend would return transformed.
Rahul drew a deep breath, smiled, and pressed the chocolate box into the man’s hands.
Together, they walked out of the station—two strangers, holding hands, carrying nothing but courage and one dented chocolate tin—while Amit stood frozen, his brain scrambling to make sense of what the hell had just happened.
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