Silent Glances

She shifted her glance from my earrings to my feet as I clung to the tiny pole, struggling to make my space through the crowded metro. Her kajal smudged lower eye lid matched perfectly with her little red bindi and tiny nose ring. Although I was looking forward, I was perfectly aware of her silent glances. I looked at her child and smiled as she sat there nibbling the end of her mother's pink saree, mismatched with the green blouse. The child turned away shyly, still nibbling the cloth before her mother snatched it from her.

She busied herself with her colourful bracelet made of tiny colourful beads. How carefree and comfortable she looked in contrast to her mother, who was now looking at another woman with an expensive purse held in freshly manicured hands. Standing beside the rich lady, I was enjoying the subtle fragrance of her expensive perfume, which I had always wanted to buy but could never save enough money to do so. As I was busy thinking of the day I would have a job and a more comfortable life, perhaps, she was living the stages of her life through her silent glances. The stages of an educated independent girl through me and that of a rich woman through the lady next to me. Even if reality had bound her in the shackles of deprivation, her imagination was living the life of her dreams every day. Her dull eyes were enriched by the colours she gathered from her silent glances.