Gulping the cup of coffee, and staring through the broken window towards the street across, I just stood there, numb. In that very moment, it was all blank. I wasn’t thinking, just stood up.
A car was honking its way out into the narrow street continuously, until the street kids made their way for it. Some even ran after the car to catch some amusement of their own. Bare-footed, torn clothes adorning their malnourished torsos, but a smile flashing across their faces, they ran. A woman sat along the pavement with jasmine flowers, hardly anyone stopping by. She was young, probably around 22, married. She had a sindoor probably.
Usually at this time, this was how my evening would pass by. A cup of sugarless coffee to give me company, peeping through the window as if I’m scanning the street, as if I was the watchman. Life, even with the monotonous setting, had its charm. The quiet time, spoke with me like it never did before.
A man stopped by to buy the flowers from the woman, probably a garland for the lady sitting in the car parked nearby. He gave her a big note I suppose, she didn’t had chilaer to return perhaps. Neither did she had candies like the shopkeepers now give you in return, and in the process making éclairs as a default currency for chiller in India. She searched under the basket, took out her secret pouch from under her pallu but was probably able to find only some extra cash to return.
The man left without the extra money towards his car and probably the lady who was waiting there.
Meanwhile, my coffee was finished and I got back to my place on the couch. I sat there for a couple of minutes but I was tempted not to. I got the feeling of doing something, something productive, something fun, and something that I always do. Rather used to do. The restlessness grew with every moment and when I couldn’t think of anything else, I just stopped thinking.
It was a lot easier not to think now. Thinking only brought back memories which I just wanted never to resurface again.
And just when I was trying to soothe my nerves, the bell rang. But opening the door, made it even worse.
She was standing there!!! And it all came knocking down, like a flashback.
…. Find out what happens next in my next post of “The Broken Window: and she stood there“
Part 2 of the Story The Broken Window: and she stood there…