Who was that girl in the metro; preoccupied with her thoughts, gazing out of the window as sun settles down. Dark hairs, good looks but sad expressions… the way she sat, the far gaze, what’s wrong with here, i thought.
I wanted to ask the reason of the empty look in her crystal eyes as if life was being sucked out of her. Reason she was holding her hands under her thighs that they were almost pale. Her shoulders were down with the whatever she was going through. One could see that she was afraid if people would notice that she was not comfortable.
But as i was looking at her, she turned and our eyes met. My first thought was to look away but i didn’t nor did she. As if she wanted someone to ask her what’s wrong. But before i could say anything, a women in her late 40s sitting next to her asked, “are you all right?”. “I am, yes, I am”, she said. Panic in her voice was visible. As the station arrived, she picked her stuff in a desperate attempt to flee. As she left the metro car, i continued looking at her face; face that was carrying scars of hard life shed been through.
She finally sat on the bench, away from the dwelling eyes of curious people. And as the door closed and metro moved, i could see the tears flowing from her eyes. The pain in its raw form; i felt for her.