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Sunday 6 August 2023

Reverie

 He was a lanky youth

I had just started wearing saree

We took the Chartered Bus from the same stop in the mornings

It was my first job

With a meagre salary

Fresh from College and a sheltered cocoon

I was naïve, shy and saw the world through rose tinted shades


I knew he watched me covertly

Though he sat at the far end of the bus

Where the seasoned men played cards

The ladies sat in front and kept to themselves

I did not know much about him


Sometimes in the evenings 

We again happened to take the same commute home

A few months later I got a seat next to his

By choice

He said he was a year younger to me

I was crestfallen

I had read about "the tall, dark and handsome " 

Who knew how to deal with the world 

 Whom the girls of marriageable age swooned over

"The most eligible bachelor ..."

The mothers crooned to each other

But he knew who to choose

The innocent virgin.....the one who would surrender to his ways 

Without a word of protest


From that day onwards

I ignored him

I did not know about him though

He knew too many things about me


And then he stopped coming in the bus

I wondered why


But that morning...

We bumped into each other one last time

He told me he was being transferred

To another city....?

I too had my plans of shifting base

We did not say good bye

But just crossed the road 

Without a word

I towards the bus stop

He towards home

Oh yes! We were neighbours


A few years later

In the Puja Pandal

Saw him standing at the far end 

I had come over for the vacation

It seemed he still watched me from the corner of his eyes

Greenish brown fringed with curly lashes

We never spoke of course!

It did not make sense

My life had taken a different bend

Away from his 

And I had too many plans which never matured at the end

Still...


Long time after

Again during a vacation

I saw him  walking into the Puja Pandal

Holding the hand of a girl child

A dark woman by his side

His pale skin had a deep tan now

He wore a pair of spectacles

Elderly....serious....responsible....a family man 

Undoubtedly

Yet for a moment he was startled to see me

Still the same perhaps

Quiet, introvert,  too stupidly naïve

 

They say some ties do not have a name

Was this one of those?

I am not so sure

Yet in lonely leisure when I muse over 

Those days...


Once I had got a second hand text book

With beautiful poems written at the back

Was it his?


He had said he had a passion for music

Did he ever sing a song with me in mind

That's stupid.....you know


We had never kissed

Or said "I love you"

That was too cliched

We never got that close

It was just a look, just a smile, just few words

But

I still remember the colour of his eyes

His walk and that quick side way glance

Making wordless poetry on a wet dusk

At the fag end of life

Decades later  




Shared with Poets and Storytellers United


12 comments:

  1. I thoroughly enjoyed your story ..... rose colored glasses and all!!

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  2. Oh love the Puja Pandal meetings and the long looks... the kind of familiar, simmering story that you can't explain to the mobile phone generation. Well narrated!

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    Replies
    1. Thanks Rajani. Yes, kind of yesteryear romance!!

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  3. This happens a lot, several girls, now ladies, that I knew, some very well. I was naive also, it was Mrs. Jim who nailed me, not I her. Girls might not supposed to be like that but I was a good pick. Couldn't let me get away. Also I jumped on the phrase, "surrender to his ways without a word of protest . . . ", have seen that. A nice write, long but worth the read.
    ..

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    Replies
    1. I congratulate Mrs. Jim for not letting you go. I am smiling at "I was a good pick".

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  4. Oh all the things that can be said with just one look!

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  5. Yes Rommy. But it's all cliched. 😁😁

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  6. It's all in the eyes...and one look can last a lifetime, I know. ♥

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  7. Thats a lovely poem. Wonderful story telling through poetic lines. Hope you will love my poetry website too. Please visit me when you have time.
    https://poetrybyshalinisamuel.com/

    ReplyDelete