“Bahut Pyar karte hai..” She blares at the top her lungs, as she moves on to the next coach. She could already see the defences being put up. Some raising their newspapers, as if that would hide their presence. Some plugging their earphones deeper. Some closing their eyes and slightly leaning their heads, actors par excellence.
A laugh almost breaks out at these pretentious elitists. But she holds it down. It’s all an act. Her and them alike. She moves on ahead, her hands subconsciously knocking the malformed tiles together.
Ha! Those tiles, beating together to form the most rudimentarily unique percussions. One of the few things she can claim to be her own. Even the clothes she is wearing now are not hers per say. You get what you manage to snatch away from the clothes dump. But today she is happy because she got the one with the flowers. She doesn’t care where it had been or who wore it before,for this day it is hers.
She was asked to go childless this week. It’s harder without the child. One more extra lap just to collect the money. Wonder what happened to the child she had with her till last week.No, questions just lead you into more trouble.
The song, the tiles and the act, her own personal trinity.
She sees the guy staring at her. He is one of the new ones. Should linger a tad longer there. She tries to well up her eyes like she was trained. She is not sure whether it worked, but the guy is reaching out for his purse anyway.
Maybe today she can swipe that 10 for herself. Maybe she could just steal away to the jewellers next street for that earrings she saw. She has been saving for so long. Maybe finally she could add that to her owns. But when will she wear them, what if the Man finds out, what if that too ends up in the clothes pile…
“Bahut Pyar karte hai…” she bleats, as she tries to hold down her sobs. It’s all about the act. Her and them alike.