Nothing less, if not more.

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 38; the thirty-eighth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "The Woman on Platform Number 10"

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Nothing less, if not more.

On such yellow afternoons at the café, she mostly sat on the corner most table with the three legged chair opposite to her, hunching, as always; humming to the poly disks  she made Ted; the waiter play for the entertainment of all; and for pampering her own nostalgia. This particular Sunday she was carrying an old poly disk which surprised her on being found that morning. Mostly her afternoon routine would have her walk into the café, pin point and call Ted to come along her table and take the poly disk of the day to the gramophone, however this particular Sunday… walk into the café, she did. Sat on the corner most table, she did. However the poly disk was not parted with, it sat perfectly round and old in its case, in front of her, while she read  what was written on the centre of the disk with an old marker;

“And I, all I really want is you
You to stick around
I’ll see you everyday
But you’ll have to follow through...” 

It wasn't the first time in the day that she read those few lines. Though every time she did, it felt like the first time and it felt like thirty years back, all over again. His handwriting was as fresh as the 20 year old boy staring at her from her memory, his ‘Y’s were always longish, she smiled. Another similar yellow afternoon stared at her in her mind; an endless road on which they walked while he hid a square case behind his back and walked with her;

“…and why are you hiding that big poly disk which every tree on the road can see?”

“…I was hoping you weren't a tree, but happy birthday, Jolene.”

“What did you record?”

“A song that might remind you of today, of now… of maybe me. And what we are at this moment. And what we could be in the next. Nothing less, if not more.”

“…what’s more?”

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“No music for the café today, Miss Jolene?”, Ted stood next to her looking down at the poly disk. She looked up at Ted, an embarrassed slow red blush creeping into her dusky skin. But she recovered quickly.  Abandoning emotions at the time of need was an old habit of her head strong existence.

“why of course, Teddy. This one just has one song though.”

“Oh, looks like an old gift, is it?”

“Yes. A very… old gift, indeed.”, she smiled in an absent minded way.

“From a friend, was it?”

“He was…more”

“What’s more?”

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As the needle of the grand instrument touched the top of the revolving disk, a much too familiar tune took her back to that old sunny afternoon. The long road ended at the threshold of the old station. Clasping the poly disk case to under her arm, she briskly walked with him to platform number 10.

“So… what’s more?”, she asked impatiently, catching a glimpse of the mouth of the train pulling into the platform.

“What’s more… is perhaps the day you remember today, of now, and of me; of what we are at this moment, and what we could be in the next… and you sing along to the song waiting for you in this disk, on another day, in another moment, for me.”

“What makes you think I’ll sing for you?”

“Oh Jolene, my beautiful. One day a stranger will ask you about us, and you wouldn't know what to say--”

“Because there is nothing to say, there never was, and there will be.”

“ You've always had something to sing, when you've had nothing to say.”, he smiled that crooked smile that peered through her eyes, and leaving just that of him, he went away.

Jolene stood quietly, waiting for the smoke of the train to burn her eyes, just so she could be angry at the engine for making her eyes moist. Strong girl, Jolene. Strong girl. He must go away, you must be free.

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“I asked what’s more, Miss Jolene?”, Ted playfully yelled from the other corner of the café while he turned the music a notch or two higher. The song rang in her ears;

“And I, all I really want is you
You to stick around
I’ll see you everyday
But you’ll have to follow through...”

…and Jolene tried saying something but she was chocked, and so she sang along the chorus;

“You will have to follow through
These reeling emotions they keep me alive
They keep me in tune
Oh look what I’m holding here in my fire,
This is for you….”

Jolene had nothing to say. And so, she sang. She sang for that day, for that moment, for him. She sang for what they were at that moment, and what they could have been in the next.
 She sang while she stared at the empty case of the poly disk that said;

“For the Woman on Platform Number 10,
 It was never less, it was always more, wasn't it?
-Love,
More.”
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The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: Random blog surfing, Participation Count: 02

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-Nil.