Yellow.
Green.
The traffic crawls and I am nudged along the road inside this rickety old auto rickshaw. A quick glance at my wrist tells me that I have a close chance of being late for my friend’s birthday fete. Suddenly I’m enveloped in grey clouds of smoke and the auto driver accelerates past a grunting red bus.
The driver is young and I notice the beads of sweat developing at the back of his neck. He tosses his head to remove the bothersome lock of hair that falls between his eyebrows.
I watch him by the rear view mirror. He rarely looks up at me and his eyes scrunch up trying to navigate through the dusty lanes, maneuvering between rusty old cars and an overzealous two wheeler.
But still, it isn't fast enough. I reprimand myself for dawdling around in my office cubicle trying to complete the daily Sudoku in the newspaper. “Adi! You’re priorities are so perplexing” I hear my sister in my head. A chance smile catches me unaware as it flits across my tired face.
The driver now turns to face me and taps the meter. I fish through my wallet and pull out a handful of newly printed bank notes. He drops three silver coins in my palm, spits out red paan near the lamp post and revs his engine annoyingly.
I turn and look at the packed train station. I inhale deeply and submerge myself in the milling crowd.
***
It is now ten minutes since I boarded the train. A teenage girl with shocking purple bangs stands next to the compartment door nodding her head to Gen Y music. Something I can never connect to. Apart from the usual dull faced co-passengers, the train is sparsely inhabited. I exhale and close my eyes in exhaustion.
A sudden jerk wakes me up rudely. My eyes grudgingly open and as I look up, my heart skips a beat.
***
I look at her from the corner of my eye. My breathing turns shallow and I gasp to regain composure. My head is abuzz with random strains of love songs that my radio churns out every fortnight. I shut my eyes tightly and feign a headache. This way, I can hold a hand to my forehead and still look at her from between my fingers.
The black burqa that wraps her seems to have no beginning or end. Its blackness is stunning and bottomless. On the sleeves, silver stones are pasted to form a fluttering butterfly which has blue swirls of thread dropping from the tip of its wings. Her wrists peep from below the edge of the sleeve. It is bare. Maybe she senses that I am looking and tugs at her sleeve. That was when I notice her fingers.
Long, slender and trembling. Her nails have a pinkish hue. Not artificially manicured but neatly trimmed and cleaned. They curl around a white satin purse that seemed to be past its prime. It is faded and has a broken zip at the back. But its gloom accentuates the fair hands that hold it.
The rest of the burqa has wild silver treads strewn across it disrespectfully forming chaotic patterns across her slender body. It seems to echo the feelings I am keeping bottled within. I sip some water and my throat welcomes it like the meager rains in a drought stricken land. A cool breeze plays across my face forcing me to turn away and I end up staring at her right in the eye.
My heart erupts with tiny fireworks sending pulses of joy pounding through my veins. She is staring right back at me.
Her eyes. Oh god, her eyes.
Almond shaped jewels. Embedded in flawless, translucent skin. Bottle green with a speck of silver that dots her pupil. Or is it the light rehearsing its illusions? I will never know. I see my stunned face reflected in the clear liquid black dot at the center.
Few strands of her hair come loose and fall across her pale forehead. She brushes them away impatiently but they pay no heed. Like a jailed songbird, they squeeze past her scarf only to fall limply at her temple. Her eyebrows are dark and penciled in. They stretch from eye to eye like an eagle’s wings preparing to take flight. In contrast, her eyelashes are subtle, one blow and they might scatter like dandelion seeds. But nevertheless, they frame those exotic eyes.
She blinks.
It lasts for an eternity.
***
The light caresses her gentle features and casts a hue on her benign smile. I can’t see her smile of course. The scarf shields it from my desperate eyes. I see it in her eyes. I see a sparkle. And that pierces my soul cracking it in two.
Stations pause by the train and then hurtle away into the distant horizon. But my attention is elsewhere. I am in conversation with this woman. Not with words of any known language but with the shy movements of her eyes. I drown in the yawning ache that she is creating in my heart.
Her eyes implore me to look away lest anyone notices me staring but I dismiss her nonchalantly. All I want to do is to steal the kohl from under eyes and whisper promises of love and watch the delight spread across her countenance.
***
The train screeches to a halt and my reverie crumbles effortlessly. She gets up and the burqa swishes past by me and heads for the exit. I scramble forward to catch her but she slips through my fingers. I see her get off and the train blows its whistle. She turns and looks at me and I see the smile again in her eyes.
With a swish of her hand, she unclasps her scarf and lets it drop. The sight makes me stagger. The lower part of her face looks like it is bitten off by an animal that knew no mercy. It had chewed joyfully on her jaw and impregnated deep scars and stitches across her thin lips.
She sees the shock and temporary repugnance in my eyes as I recoil. I hastily correct my expression but it is too late.
The train starts moving and I see a lone tear slide down the bridge of her sharp nose. Her eyes close in betrayal. I stand helpless and defeated. She whirls around and dissolves into the deafening crowd.
It is then that I realize the weight of my loss.
The End.