Wednesday, 10:58 AM
Kashmere Gate, Delhi
I stepped out of the train and looked at my watch, 10:58 AM, I climbed up the stairs and pushed through the people. I had 2 minutes to change the metro. People gushing into me, I crashed into a fat lady. I picked myself up and walked fast. I was already running behind the schedule, I didn’t want to miss this train. If I had I would have to wait for 10 more minutes for the next train.
With my backpack sitting at my back I raced down the stairs to catch the metro with doors open, waiting for its passengers to board. I ran towards it when the doors started to beep before closing and in no time I found myself inside the metro successfully,
but my backpack was stuck between the doors. By then, I was scandalized by fellow passengers’ horrified eyes. I tried to get my backpack when the doors opened again and I got myself and my bag inside in one, complete piece.
Everyone stared at the anxious, panting me with a bewildered look. I was not liking the ambience, I never really liked awkward stares and pity, it reminded me of the time when I was ten and I puked all over the shoes of my school principal while I was on stage, getting my scholarship award. It was the most embarrassing moment of my life, I never stole anyone’s lunch after that.
When you can’t change the situation, switch the people.
I did that, I changed the coach. There, looking through the strangers, I could see only sad faces, blank faces, faces with no excitement. That was the daily subway and it made me sad. Life in a metro is a typical ride with monotony. The whole coach was crowded with no seats left to sit. Because of the embarrassment that happened few moments ago, I didn’t want to look up, thus I took the support of a pole in the middle of the coach and took out my book to read. I was Reading Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur, the poet I idolized the most.
At 11:11 AM, the train’s doors opened and the crowd left the train giving me an empty seat to sit down. After settling down, I looked up to recheck my station and that’s when I saw.
A badminton racket peeking out of someone’s bag and two white shoes hitting the bottom surface. I looked up to see a guy with a white V-neck shirt and black jeans. His face looked like pure innocence, the one who lacked worldly wisdom, pure and serene.
He seemed like a guy who wanted to hide his innocence under the mustache and the perfect stubble he had on his face.
I was mesmerized with his looks and wondered what kind of a person might he be.
I scanned him thoroughly to find out, huge luggage with him, perfectly tailored, shiny hair and bulged triceps.
As I timely glanced at him, I saw his eyes over me too.
I looked at my book, trying to avoid the glances, but I could hardly get my eyes off his face.
Having a spark-moment with a guy you see in metro was overrated. I didn’t know his name, his identity, then how was I attracted to the aura he was building.
Sadly, that was the only time I was seeing him. After all, I was a coward, little girl who was taught not to be upfront to strangers.
With deep regrets of not making a conversation, I put my book back in my backpack and stood near the door to get down at my station.
Just as I walked out, I found him again standing still, staring at me.
I stopped as he looked at me, perplexed.
For a while I thought he was clueless and might be in need of directions. Funny is was when he asked me, “Are you going to Sonepat?”
He was perfectly sure of the directions, all he wanted was some company back to college.
Life is so funny, you get to meet people who share the same roots, same places and some ethics and values but never get the chance to meet them. But when destiny gets in the way and joins the course of your life with them, something beautiful like love happens.
Strange, isn’t it?