Why didn't he Say Goodbye?

A Usual Day That Wasn’t So Usual

What started as just another day turned into one of those strangely eye-opening moments that give you a reality check for life. Yet another reminder that we are not special—not at all.

I had a meeting at Mahalakshmi today, so I boarded the 9:06 CSMT local to head towards Dadar. Just like the previous Sunday, I had a topic in mind for my next blog. I was lost in thought, answering work calls simultaneously, as it was a weekday. But suddenly, I felt the urge to put my phone away and just sit. So, I did exactly that. I told my colleague, “If you need anything, just call me instead of texting.”

A few minutes passed by, and soon Badlapur station arrived—along with its usual crowd. A man who had been sitting a couple of seats away before shifted and took the seat next to me.

An Unexpected Conversation

He was seated to my left. At first, he glanced in my direction, then looked again—this time, more deliberately. His eyes settled where my left arm should have been. He stared for a few seconds before asking,

“आपका हाथ नहीं है?”

I nodded and told him I had lost it in an accident three and a half years ago. As expected, an expression of mixed empathy and sympathy spread across his face. Then came the predictable question:

“कैसे हुआ था?”

I’ve gotten used to this over the years. So, I recited my story—again. He listened, and for a brief moment, he said nothing. His eyes welled up. After 15 seconds of silence, he asked his next question:

“शादी हो गई?”

I chuckled and replied,
“अरे अंकल, अभी उमर ही क्या है? बच्चा हूँ अभी, सिर्फ २८। अभी टाइम है, अभी मैं सुखी हूँ, वैसा ही रहने दो।”

We both laughed.

Then he asked me about my work. I told him about my advertising business and everything else I do. In return, I asked about his profession.

“I don’t work anymore,” he said.

He had once been a bookie at Mahalakshmi Racecourse but had shut down everything. Now, he just traveled and engaged in charity—funding schools, making donations, and taking international trips every 45 days.

The Reality Check

I told him it was great that he was enjoying life.

“Not really,” he responded.

Then, he said something that made my stomach turn.

“I lost my wife and son in the past five years. My 17-year-old boy in an accident and my wife to breast cancer afterward.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I nearly teared up but managed to hold myself together.

“So now, are you just trying to make the most of what’s left?” I asked.

“I’m just counting my breaths, passing my days,” he replied.

“That’s… probably fair.”

After a moment of silence, I asked him,
“Did you ever try to find a reason? A purpose? Something that makes you want to wake up tomorrow?”

He thought about it before answering.

“The good deeds I do now… maybe they’re reason enough. But I’m not looking for meaning anymore. I’m not interested.”

A Story That Needed to Be Told

I told him I write an online journal. Before I could ask whether I could write about our conversation, he said,

“Write about me.”

Then, he took my Instagram handle and followed me.

A few minutes passed. I wanted to ask him if he believed in God, but by then, he had fallen asleep. So, I closed my eyes for a bit, pulled out my phone, and made a note of this moment.

A note to remind myself:

“Cherish every moment with your loved ones. It’s all you truly need. And it’s going to pass in an instant because life is unpredictable. The least we can do is be grateful for today.”

Why Didn’t He Say Goodbye?

His friend woke him up as the train left Thane. They were getting off at Ghatkopar. As they picked up their bags and stood in line at Mulund, he continued talking to me.

But the moment the train stopped, he got lost in the crowd.

He didn’t say goodbye.

I was waiting for him to turn around—just once. Maybe give a nod, or a smile, or… something.

But he didn’t.

As a psychology student, I wondered: Was he sick of goodbyes? Had he experienced too many of them? Or was there another reason?

I don’t know.

Maybe I don’t need to know.

Maybe I just need to be grateful.