Romance During the Rush Hour

Soon she will bring her beautiful self to this bus stop, he almost said it aloud.

He knew he was getting late for his office, after letting two busses whiz pass him. The transport was considerably less crowded, and every stranger, which looked at him through the bus window, seemed to tease and laugh on his folly. But it didn’t matter. He had to see her, if only for a little moment.

It had rained well the previous night. The dawn was pleasant and spotless in the bright green Mumbai monsoon. And only this year had he noticed the butterflies and flowers and little drops on little leaves. For only this year had he seen her curls drift in soft breeze across her neck, a trace of smile on her lips. She smiled every time he quietly turned his eyes towards her. She knows perhaps, he often wondered, she knows that he likes her. And he knew nothing about her, not even her name only that her turquoise blue dress made her look like princess.

Her absence had brought with it a cold grey feeling yesterday; he felt it, when rain poured in melancholy. But at least he’ll see her today; just one glance, and it’ll make his ways go well. He relied on her secretly for his smiles. And he almost broke the secret when he saw her walking her feeble, gentle steps towards him, face turned quickly, but his smile wasn’t unnoticed, unlike his assumptions. He never wanted his eagerness to come up to his face, but it did, every time she leaned against the bus stop, it did, every time she looked at him, it did, every time he looked at her. The bus arrived, it jumped playfully in the potholes, splashing water over stray dogs, which scampered for shelter, he smiled on this sight. Today was going to be a good day, as he took the seat behind hers. There was no one sitting beside her then, and he watched again, her curls, they whispered a poetry in the wind.

Lost he was in that poetry, when she turned around and smiled at him. “Hi”, his heart skipped a beat, “I can do with some company, you know,” her voice was as sweet as wine. “Hi.” He smiled back.

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She hurried her steps towards the bus stop. She was eager to see him again, to see his face lit up, whenever he looked at her. She had caught a glimpse of his face yesterday, from the front seat beside the driver’s seat of her neighbor, Uncle Bangera’s car. And she had smiled because she knew that he liked her.

Every morning, when she hurried to the office, his thoughts brushed her curls. He would be standing there, with a dumb look on his face, glancing then and now towards her path, till he would see her walking. She liked his attention. She liked his choice of tee shirts and colors, and his rim-less spectacles. She liked the way he always allowed her to board the bus first and follow suit. She liked it when he had offered her the seat when the bus was jammed with 8 am passengers in ties and shiny formal shoes, but she was in a plain turquoise blue dress. And she never failed to catch him smiling to himself.

Last night when she woke up two hours before six, she stood near the window listening to the rainfall on trees and leaves. She stood there for half hour and fell into a slumber without records of her thoughts in the calm darkness. As if it was almost a dream, but it wasn’t, she said to herself and gentled her feet as she neared their bus stop, leaned against it, the trace of her smile was more evident than his. Quick peeks she stole at him and she knew that he did so, and often wondered if he knew that she knew. The bus arrived, it jumped playfully in the potholes, splashing water over stray dogs, which scampered for shelter, she smiled on this sight.

He allowed her to board the bus, even today and she caught the empty seat, which had an empty seat behind it, knowing well that he’d take it. Minutes passed in anxiety, when she made her mind up and turned around, “Hi”, her heart skipped on her own voice, “I can do with some company, you know.” “Hi” he smiled back, his voice was like sweet wine.