Evanescence

The train picked up speed, as it settled into the periodic tickety
tack of its wheels. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, picked up his
bag and walked his way into the compartment trying to find the perfect
spot. He was tall, and well built, with a heavily toned body. He did
his bit on keeping shape, what else did he have in life anyway? He
wasn’t what you could call life’s favourite son. Obstacles and ill
luck cursed his path. As an evidence to his troubles, his face wore a
weary look, tired and haggard. Scars lined his arms, his hands rough
and coarse, reflecting his struggles. A day’s journey, he would soon be
home, and he couldn’t wait to be back. Back where he belonged.A place he
could call home.

He walked into a compartment that was relatively empty, but for a
young girl who sat by the window absorbed in her own thoughts. He was
glad, he wouldn’t have to make inane forced conversations with nosy
people, he would have his silence. Carelessly throwing his bag up on
the shelf,he seated himself beside the window opposite her. And that
was when he actually saw her.She was looking out the window.
She appeared to be in her early twenties, roundish face, very pleasant
looking.Her hair was pulled up in a casual knot, strands flying
carelessly across hercheeks, as she let herself be caressed by the
gentle breeze through the window.Her eyes were what struck him,
made him look closer and more intently at her.

Light brown eyes, bright and intelligent. They had a pensive
distant look, she had given herself up to her thoughts, and
memories. Red rimmed though they were, punctuated with the black debris
of mascara that she must have so painstakingly applied on her long curvy
eyelashes, she looked beautiful. As she wiped a tear off her face, he
longed to reach out to console her. But she seemed to be lost in her
own world, and he was but a complete stranger . He imagined her to be
in a bubble, deaf to all the noises except that of the wind, blind to
everyone else except the unrelenting expanse of green fields that
passed by her, mute to the world except her own thoughts. She looked
so vulnerable, like a butterfly with its wings cut off, struggling to
make sense of its predicament.He was torn between reaching out,
embracing her,wiping the tears off her face, consoling her, and his
hesitancy at destroying her bubble. Waking her up from her trance,
halting her memories, bringing her back to a reality which would
probably hurt even more. Wherever she was, at whatever time her
thoughts had frozen her, it was hers to keep.

He pondered over the reason for her melancholy. Had she lost someone
near and dear? Was it death that drove them apart? Or was it one of
those ridiculously insane moments of anger that often separate people?
Or was it mere distance? Was it loneliness, anger, separation, or even
love that made her so sad?

He had no knowledge of her past, he had never ever participated in her
moments of joy or sorrow. But yet, here he was, an inert spectator to
her obvious despair, at something, or someone, and he knew not how to
console her, or even if he should.

He wondered how she would have looked in better times, in her million
moments of abandon and happiness that were all now lost to time,
everything reduced to but an entry in the memory keeper’s book.
He smiled to himself at the vision of her bursting into spontaneous
laughter, of her waving excitedly at someone, her face lighting up
with joy as she saw her someone, whose face would always be invisible to
him, her bouncy spirited chatter. He imagined all this just by looking
at her, gave her a name, a voice and a personality. He may have been
totally wrong, he may have been eerily correct, he may have been
neither. But to him, she somehow wasnt just another nameless face in
the train, who would be lost in the misty background of all else that
were insignificant, things that didnt matter to him. She meant more.
He did not know her. But in her vulnerabilty, he saw something
beautiful. He connected with her mysterious pain and anguish. And he
wanted more, he needed to touch her, feel her, to convince himself
that she was real, her pain and his too, were real.

He cleared his throat, and reached out to bring her to his attention.
She turned, and looked hard at him. For a few seconds, their eyes met,
and locked hard. It felt like she saw right into him, and he into the
very depths of her heart. He lost his voice in those magical moments,
all he could do was look at her. And then, as abruptly as it had
began, she broke the gaze, wiped the tears off her face, said one
word- 'sorry' and she was gone. She disappeared.He stood there mute,numb
with a feeling he couldnt describe.Empty. But relieved. Like life had
just apologised to him for all the sorrows, the pain, the anger, the
disappointment that she had bestowed on him.Somehow he felt lighter
and happier. He wished he could go after her, but he knew it wasnt
meant to be. In that single moment, he had loved, and had been loved,
and that was enough for him.