[a desi bus romance] Vijay and Nila have only one thing in common - they take the same bus at the same time everyday. What if this mere commonality steers their life into a whirlpool of uninvited feelings, wholesome conversations and unexpected conn...
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Vijay couldn't help but look at her. He had been watching her for the past four days and was rendered powerless every time because this woman seemed to snag his attention like iron to a magnet. He had heard about people describing others as magnetic. He never seemed to understand it until now.
The first day he had seen her, she was in the far opposite corner of the bus. She had asked for a ticket but her meek voice didn't travel through the packed bus to reach the conductor's ears. Vijay had notified the conductor about her and then he'd torn off a ticket. She had been wearing a button-up dirty pink shirt and light blue jeans. Vijay couldn't see her shoes but he could bet she was wearing sneakers. She looked like someone who would be most comfortable in sneakers.
The second day, she was standing a few seats before him, her back turned towards him. For some reason, Vijay could recognise her even when she had switched up her style. She was wearing salwar that day, a printed duppata over a monochrome white salwar. It seemed like she had taken the effort to dress up extra that day because she was wearing oxidised jhumkas and bangles. When she turned around to look for something, he also noticed that she was wearing bindi, which made her look prettier.
The third day he couldn't get a clear view of her because a man had brought his shovel along with him and the shovel was threatening to hit his face if he moved an inch. He watched her get on the bus at her usual stop but he couldn't spot her after that. Vijay could only remember that she was wearing something green.
The fourth day he had been right behind her but she hadn't noticed. Vijay couldn't help but stare at her, watching her untuck her braided hair that had caught between her tote bag's straps and look at her phone with a frown. She didn't smile that day and it bothered him. The thing about her was that she didn't have to have her lips curve to smile at someone. Her eyes were even more expressive; they spoke poetry. Those pools of starless night sky, lined by a thin stroke of eyeliner, spilled words that the lips could not say. Maybe that's why he had been so enamoured by her without even talking to her.
It wasn't just him. Whenever she stepped into the bus, a horde of eyes turned her way. Some were in admiration, jealousy but some were filthy glances. He wanted to slam his elbow into their sockets and make sure they never looked at a woman that way ever again. It was unusual, this feeling of protectiveness for a stranger, and he didn't know what to do with it.
Today, Vijay was standing next to the entry and long before the bus halted at her bus stop, he searched for her. She was in a green kurta again, pushing through a crowd of school kids and muttering something between her teeth. She didn't seem to mind the scowls that the kids were giving her as if she had decided she was going to be rude today and not give a damn about it. He almost laughed at the determination lining her face. So fucking cute and so fucking pretty.
The doors screeched open and she pushed her way in. Once she was in, Vijay turned his head away to not make it obvious that he was staring. One minute he looked away and the next minute she was toppling forward. Vijay couldn't stop himself. His hands took a mind of its own and grabbed her forearms, which were soft and dewy with some kind of cream that forced him to grip her tighter to prevent slipping.
