The 8.12 Local #1

The clock struck 8.11. A recorded announcement played that the train would be arriving soon. I geared myself up for yet another combat hoping I would get a comfortable space at least today.

It arrived—a loud, blaring sound with maniac teens dangling on its roof. I got in, braved my way through the crowd, and somehow stood in the corridor with the playlist blasting out of my earphones. No luck for comfort yet again. The city was slowly getting on its feet and so was I.

And then, I saw her.

She was right in front of me across the wired partition of the adjacent compartment with her earphones plugged in and her eyes lost in some distant thoughts which were completely numb to the chaos around. Before I could sustain the sight a bit more, she caught me staring at her and moved a bit.

I snapped. Hell! I got so conscious I avoided her eyes. I started fidgeting with my bag to search for something only to find nothing. (Perhaps, she knew that too).

In an attempt to hide my curiosity, I looked out trying to admire the morning sun that played hide and seek along the building skyline. However, it all seemed worthless. I couldn’t resist my urge to look at her once again. I stopped my futile attempts to overcome the obvious and leaned in to catch a glimpse of her.

Our eyes met again. This time for longer. The wind blew across my face and it felt surreal. The damsel was still looking at me.

I was baffled. Was she looking at me all the while? Did she know I was staring? Of course she knew I was! What’s all this? Why is this happening?

The train stopped. People got down and got in. My wonderful view had now transformed into heads and hair jostling for space with a cacophony of abuses and snorts. I let out a sigh. The train caught up speed and people calmed down a bit opening up the view for me again.

Her eyes were probably fixed on me all this while since she was still looking at me. We shared a strange gaze. She didn’t smile or frown. She did not move a muscle. Nor did I do.

And then, it hit me how beautiful those eyes were. Calm, alluring, and magical. Her eyes beheld the sensuality of a lady and the mischief of a girl. A rare find. Before I knew, I fell for the beautiful eyes lined with dark kohl. Totally Shakespeare in love! There was something special about those eyes. I felt as if I knew her from somewhere before. Sort of a déjà vu. I had a karmic connection with the energy in her eyes as though I could see her soul in those eyes. 

Eyes—it can do that to you.

And suddenly, she flinched and fidgeted with her phone. I continued wandering in those eyes. She got up and started walking towards me. This time somehow I got embarrassed and looked down at my phone. She took her bag from the rack and turned. I felt time was slowing down and so was the wind. Then reality entered in my blossoming fairy tale.

The train paced down as the station approached. And she now stood at the door. Oh no! She was leaving. What do I do? Should I get down? Should I make a conversation? She’ll think I am a crazy stalker, which I have qualified in a subtle way now. I can’t risk this. Oh Lord! What do I do?

She got down and started walking away. My eyes were still on her. You see a lot of movies and expect your lady to turn around and smile and rush back at you. That’s the protocol. But she didn’t. She kept walking. She didn’t turn. Not even once.

The train left and moved past her. I hoped for a final glance, just one more time hoping to meet those mystical eyes again. She kept walking with her head down. She never looked up.

I continued looking till I realized the station was out of my sight now. I leaned back in and a smile erupted on my face and the wind blew again.

Maybe it was nothing. Not even a crush. Just a chemical mix in my brain. Or maybe not.

Maybe I won’t even remember this a week later. Maybe I will.

Maybe our roads will never meet again. Or maybe the world is not that bigger a place. Maybe it was just one of those moments in time.

Or maybe Carpe diem.

Image source:http://life-is-like-a-wineglass.tumblr.com

Original Story Credits: Pratik barve
Improvisations: Yours truly