This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 38; the thirty-eighth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is “The Woman on Platform Number 10”
Sitting on this very bench has become a part of her otherwise insipid and stale existence. Sweat rolling down her back from all the exertion and efforts she has to endure on hot sunny mornings just to get to this bench on time. The place feels much familiar now and she no longer cringes at the stale stench of perspiration and garbage intermingled with the scent of steaming tea that fills the air around her. She looks around for the clock to see if she has enough time to buy herself a cold drink to relieve her parched throat. She decides against it and instead licks her dry lips. She sits there, edge of her saree pulled tight over her head chewing on its corner incessantly. Her eyes glued to the opposite platform which is brimming with the morning bustle.
Everyday, for the past one month she has been coming here. At first, the throng of people at the station intimidated her but gradually she felt settled. Sometimes she felt a tinge of envy to see how everyone seem to have a purpose and certainty in their life, the absence of which in her own life was realized at this very station – when she had seen them together.
Just as she is busy contemplating her life’s bearings she sees them, for they are the reason she has been coming here everyday for the past 30 days. A woman and a man. So much in love, holding hands, their fingers intertwined. They seem to have eyes only for each other. There are exchanges of amusing whispers followed by effortless bout of giggles. She could feel the closeness between them, the comfort, the easiness that comes in a relationship with time.
She couldn’t summon up the reason that urged her to come here every morning to catch a glimpse of them. She has been doing it since she saw them one morning when she was urgently called by her ailing and old father. That day, in the culmination of her desperation and the gravity of the situation, she had forgotten to inform even her husband, who by then had left for his workplace. She was waiting for the train when she saw them with the same insouciant attitude. From that day on she has been a regular onlooker of what seemed like a flawless love portrait. She tried to delve into the whys, but the best explanation she could come up with was that she wanted to feel and savor the moments. Something that was lacking in her own relationship with her husband. Yes that has to be it!
She was married to the man she now calls her husband when she was barely through her adolescence. It’s been five years since. Five years of trying to be the companion he wanted. But all her efforts had not been enough, for she could not get him to stop making her feel unwanted and undesirable. She had been so busy, to make herself feel worthy that the possibility of it never happening had completely escaped her mind. Everyday, when she looked at them, she experienced a feeling she had been craving for ages.
She is brought back to reality with a sudden thud. A lecherous looking man rested his grimy and battered bag by her side. He himself is busy scanning her, his eyes scrutinizing every part of her voluptuous body, leering as he pouts his paan stained mouth. Giving him a seething look she gets up and moves to a spot next to the nearby pillar.
Resuming her pursuit she contemplates going near them to see the desired effect on the man, would he acknowledge her or would he still be lost in the woman’s beauty? The beauty that probably he would never see in her. It is not just today that she feels the urge to amalgamate into their world, every time she leaves her house she resolves to encounter them, to confront the man but fails.
Today won’t be that day either.
Today too after they board the train, the same train, she will walk back home with every step getting heavier unable to bear the weight of her burdensome heart.
Today too she would let their image fade into the background until it is time to face them again tomorrow.
Today too she won’t confront her husband or the woman with him.
And may be then some day her husband would come back home, come back to her and this woman who she sees everyday with him will end up being what she is for her now. The woman on platform number 10. Unnamed, unknown. Fleeting and transient.
The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.Participation Count: 1