Black and White

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 24; the Twenty-Fourth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for this month is BLACK AND WHITE.

I strode reluctantly along the narrow lanes wet by the monsoon rains. From a distance, I could see the metro station approaching. My steps became slower as I reached the platform.  There was the usual hustle and bustle to grab a seat so as not to be late for work.

Routine life had gotten the better of me. Everything seemed so morbid and dull. Also, the rains had stolen whatever sunshine the city was left with.

I reminisced those metro rides with him. There would be coy smiles as I would look at him amidst the multitude. His hand would brush against my skin almost accidentally and there would be laughter, holding of hands or just plain romantic silence.

It had been a while; quite a while. “We” did not exist anymore, nor did those moments of deep desire. All of a sudden, but gradually, he seemed to have drifted away. He never lied, a quality because of which my respect for him is still alive. I always knew I was drawn to him more than he was to me. Even in those moments when I would be lost in his scent and impeccable presence, he seemed to be plain mischievous. I loved him more for who he was than for his love for me. A slight tear trickled down my eyes. I never quite realized what was it that I failed to deliver, what was it that caused him to suddenly lose his mind and leave all that we ever created. I promised him he would regret it, to which he shook his head and smiled a wise one, looking over my shoulders into some distant space.  The words of his last letter rang clear in my head as I wept inside a little more.

I had to get off at the last stop so I had plenty of time to keep myself busy. Opposite to me, I saw a girl casually lying down occupying almost three seats and seeming the least guilty about it. I fixed my dupatta and looked at her, now a bit curious. She had her face covered in a scarf as she hummed something and tapped her feet. I mocked her in my head. But then I thought that one definitely needs guts to do something like that in a crowded train.

I took out a book to read as we approached another station and there was some emptying and filling up of the train. All of a sudden, the female in front jumped up with a start and sat up on one seat; allowing an elderly woman and her grandson to occupy the rest. She obviously was not as inconsiderate as I had thought earlier on. What followed of course was another shock. I definitely had not seen someone so exquisitely attractive. I almost stopped myself from ogling. I always thought that I was the conventional pretty girl with proper features and attributes but this was something beyond comprehension.

 

Her wavy hair was an organized chaos. The slight curls fell on her face, shoulders and arms almost perfectly. The imperfect way some strands were messed up here and there made it even more appealing. Her eyes had a deep dark mysterious glint and her complexion would put honey to shame. I felt a hint of insecurity and jealousy as I noticed how the men in the compartment were charmed by her exuberance. She, however, seemed completely ignorant of all the attention. She bobbed her head to the loud music blaring out from her neon coloured headphones and doodled something on a notepad. The little grandson went up to her and she said something that made him laugh so hard, that it hurt me inside.

I must have been frowning. I am sure I was. She was looking at me, directly at me, throwing thunderbolts with her strangely captivating vision. Yet she was smiling, looking very amused.

“Are you ok?”, she called out to me in a voice I had only read about in books. “You look squashed”, she continued, throwing wild and demeaning glances at the men who were indeed squashing me into a corner. “You could join me, here. I have some space saved”, she repeated.

Of course she did. Who would dare mess with the greek goddess?! People could only gawk at her, and that’s where she shut them up. I myself was a victim. I walked up and sat next to her as her perfume made me melt inside out. I had heard of witches, never experienced meeting one.

Slowly, before I knew, I was entangled in conversation with her. Her laughter was infectious. Her every move was like a royal demand, asking something of the victim. A warm fondness started building up inside and at the same time a stinging sense of being overshadowed floated in my mind. Within an hour, I had shared my life with her and yet I did not realize how she dug so deep without my observing. On the other hand, I knew hardly anything about her; only that I never met someone so exceptionally unique and carefree before and that her genuine niceness always had an edge of coldness.  As much as I had begun to adore her addictive personality, I was appalled by the contradiction in her.

Time flew by and she stood up to leave as her station was about to arrive, just as unpredictably as I had spotted her.

“I just realized we didn’t even share names”, I said.

“Oh. That’s alright. You must be Pooja. And my name doesn’t matter”, she said, like a cool calm breeze.

I was alarmed. How on Earth did she know my name?! Everything seemed so ambiguous and daunting.

Reading my expression, she patted me and replied with a smile that could kill, “It wasn’t too hard to guess from your story, dear. See you again sometime”.

With that, the doors slid open, and her perfect silhouette seemingly vanished.

Impatiently, I started looking through the window to spot her somewhere on the platform. And I did; in the embrace of the man I loved and maybe still do.

His last written words echoed syllable by syllable, this time.

“I am sorry. If I ever knew that she existed, I would have never led you into all this. She owns me and if you knew her, you would know why.”

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