A Walk Through The Crowd

The rattling rain has ceased dropping quite sometimes now. Only scattered traces of muddy water reflect the over cast sky above—the crowd near the bus stop is now slowly settling back to their normal rhythm that had been interrupted by the untimely shower.

In that moody light, ideal for some mournful remembrance of a few long separated kins, two human beings walked slowly making their own road through the crowd. One, a shabby looking man; the other, a lady, graceful and lively.

Both of them had heavy bags hanging from their shoulders. Evidently they knew each other as they were walking side by side, engaged in some serious conversation—having only occasional break to allow the floating crowd from the opposite direction.

The man, lean and pale, with an unshaved rough skin and a shirt torn out near the collar, having a fixed eye on the face of the lady—who, in contrast, was a paragon of beauty. Her eyes—as deep and vast as the unfathomed depth of the seas, her face—shaped like the unique oval, her lips—as inviting as a mellowed strawberry—all were most eloquently announcing the supremacy of God’s creation. Oh! God must have had several sleepless nights before creating such an embodied beauty!

Slowly they joined the crowd at the bus stop waiting for a long due bus. Some anxious minutes pass by…some silent minutes pass by before they could finally see a small bus appearing from a distance.

Suddenly the face of the ugly looking man darkened in some obvious pain…he was desperately looking here and there—as if he was seeking some help from some unknown source—seeking assistance from some mysterious power. The lady also turned pathetic. Her face all on a sudden lost all its glory, she was sad no doubt.

The bus arrived. The crowd rushed madly, jostled with each other for desperate search of a seat…the gorgeous lady, unmoved so far, hesitated awhile; then slowly made her unwilling steps inside the bus. The man waited at the door—his eyes bleed…his face clearly reflected the inner turmoil of his rock-heavy heart.

The lady stopped near the first row of seats and offered a full glance at the brooding man. For a few freezing moments their eyes remained fixed on one another—making a straight line of vision through the open window—which broke with the moving of the bus.

The lady was heard to utter some parting words, and the man smiled—the gloomiest one that some can smile.

With a thick black cloud of smoke spread onto the air the bus disappeared. So disappeared the graciously sad lady.

The man stood perplexed, his head was hanging downwards with a thick black fog accumulating around him.

Slowly the man got lost in the dark smog. The last piece of the sinking sunray died in the western horizon.