Humph, and I woke up, "Oh my god, I've missed my alarm!!". Sat upright, searched for my phone under the pillow and looked at the time. 5:59 a.m. One more minute to alarm, thank god. My usual dominating lazy self ordered my head to bury itself under the pillow, and so I did. Then it flashed.
It took a moment's ponder to come to a conclusion that it wasn't a dream but that it had happened the previous evening, for real.
Ah, the lady in red. The lady in red never fails to catch your attention. But, then again, this time, it wasn't the lady in red, it was a lady in green. A green chudidhar. But that was not the first thing that I noticed. I had just gotten a train and was on the way back home; I found a place to sit, and as rarely as that happens, that jet black hair caught my attention. She was reading a book. Or rather just turning pages.
Station number one, gone. She raised from her stooped posture. A phone call, I assumed, and a phone call it was. It was then I saw her face. My first thoughts were, "My, my, what a pretty lady!". I couldn't help but observe more, as there was nothing special to do on the train trip back home.
She was holding the phone in her left hand, and I thought, "I usually hold my phone on the left hand too, dont I?", and then I thought, "Now, why did I think that?"
The forehead was as square as the stones that they cut, that they polish I should say. There wasn't a bindhi. A Christian, or Muslim, I assumed. But what does that matter?
Station number 2, gone. She was speaking for quite a time, and her facial expressions were funny for the distant observer, which in this case, was myself.
More time passed, and I was admiring her little square nose. Should someone keep a marshmallow and she kept her nose behind it, it would beautifully vanish, I thought.
Black beady eyes, and yeah, the green chudhidhar, the distant observer was still admiring those. By this time, I had lost count of the stations that had past. She closed the magazine in her hand, and put it in her bag, when I noticed, it was Aval Vikadan. Knows to read Tamizh I thought.
And, finally my gaze drifted away at the station board read which read, "Chrompet".
Where I get down. Instinct, I thought. I hurriedly got down.
What her name was, where she lived, what she did, what did I know?
P.S.: It takes 25 minutes from Guindy to Chrompet.
It took a moment's ponder to come to a conclusion that it wasn't a dream but that it had happened the previous evening, for real.
Ah, the lady in red. The lady in red never fails to catch your attention. But, then again, this time, it wasn't the lady in red, it was a lady in green. A green chudidhar. But that was not the first thing that I noticed. I had just gotten a train and was on the way back home; I found a place to sit, and as rarely as that happens, that jet black hair caught my attention. She was reading a book. Or rather just turning pages.
Station number one, gone. She raised from her stooped posture. A phone call, I assumed, and a phone call it was. It was then I saw her face. My first thoughts were, "My, my, what a pretty lady!". I couldn't help but observe more, as there was nothing special to do on the train trip back home.
She was holding the phone in her left hand, and I thought, "I usually hold my phone on the left hand too, dont I?", and then I thought, "Now, why did I think that?"
The forehead was as square as the stones that they cut, that they polish I should say. There wasn't a bindhi. A Christian, or Muslim, I assumed. But what does that matter?
Station number 2, gone. She was speaking for quite a time, and her facial expressions were funny for the distant observer, which in this case, was myself.
More time passed, and I was admiring her little square nose. Should someone keep a marshmallow and she kept her nose behind it, it would beautifully vanish, I thought.
Black beady eyes, and yeah, the green chudhidhar, the distant observer was still admiring those. By this time, I had lost count of the stations that had past. She closed the magazine in her hand, and put it in her bag, when I noticed, it was Aval Vikadan. Knows to read Tamizh I thought.
And, finally my gaze drifted away at the station board read which read, "Chrompet".
Where I get down. Instinct, I thought. I hurriedly got down.
What her name was, where she lived, what she did, what did I know?
P.S.: It takes 25 minutes from Guindy to Chrompet.
