Nameless

She walked up the stairs and into the metro station with her school bag hanging onto her back as the books rattled inside. Peace, set on her face as for once she found the shutters open avoiding the need to wait outside; which usually is the case, compelling her to cuss the lazy servicemen and their carelessness. A line of people waiting for the ticket counter to open, stared at the young girl walk in her official school uniform, clutching the phone in one hand while the other held onto her metro card.

Ahana Mehta was used to such strange glances early in the morning but she was nonchalant as her brownish black orbs covered by a pair of cat eyed spectacles ignored the stares. She waited for five minutes till everyone was allowed to go onto the platform after the counter opened and tokens were bought. Connecting earphones and getting immersed into her musical world was the only way she ignored the harsh realities of the big bad world for sometime before she reached school. Call it a preparatory period or whatever: that’s how she starts her day.

This has been her daily routine ever since they had shifted because of her mums illness. She didn’t mind it. Even though it was shift of a ten minute trip to a one hour trip to school, she was fine with it. Maybe because she had no other alternative, or for the fact that she had that hour devoted only to herself. Music in her ears and a thousand thoughts in her mind.

She walked down the platform. Neither looking right nor left. Her eyes fixed before her. But she knew that those glances followed her. Like always. Treating her like a guest or say an alien to the whole earthly existence. Not sure why but they always did.

She was always told by her clique, classmates and random people on social media how cute she was and how beautiful her smile was and how fine her eyes looked and so on…… She has never really felt herself to be so ‘ravishing’ or ‘pretty’ or whatsoever people called her. She was never an attention seeker neither did she ever want to be in the limelight.

A long time life had made her realise how certain things had to be accepted without wasting time in complaining. She sighed.

One art she possessed and probably the only one she was proud of was the art to ignore. Ignore people and things and words that were toxic to her existence. But how could she ignore the million things that run in her mind, most of which are regular made up scenarios of her failures. How could she ask her mind to stop. STOP making her life miserable. STOP thinking so much unnecessarily. How could she control her mind. She still has no clue.

The metro came and halted. The doors slid and passengers entered. Since it was the second station, it wasn’t really crowded. There were empty spaces to sit, which she did; in her favourite spot, in the extreme end near the rest. Announcements for the next station blared through the speakers.

Ahana felt her mind flood AGAIN, with thoughts of everything that had happened in the past year. How suddenly her mother became unconscious inspite of being wide awake. How petrified she had been looking at that state of her ever active supermom. How her days in school and nights were spent wondering if her mum would ever come out alive from her infected stage. How times have changed and how she has changed from the bubbly cheerful girl to a silent soul filled with sadness she has never been able to share. How darkness had taken control of all the light in their simple lives.

So private had she become that anyone talking to her would never be able to see the storm going on in her heart, mind and soul. Someone had very rightly said, “Personality changes according to the various phases life shows you and the experiences it showers you with.”

That was the only time in the whole day, when she could either sort out her thoughts or dwell deeper into the same. Thinking and overthinking and rethinking was something that came to her spontaneously. Not that she wanted to but she had no control over it.

The metro filled up slowly as teachers, students, workers came in from different stations. She didn’t really pay attention to them individually instead she gave them one glance before dwelling back into a world of her own.

Passengers chit chatted. Phones rang and were received. Children laughed and played. Basically the train was filled with hustle. The usual everyday hustle and bustle of which Ahana was an outcast.

The guy walked in and went to stand, resting against the support opposite Ahana as the seats were full. Why the? Because it was the same guy seen in the same compartment everyday. She didnt really notice him but seeing him every single day, she was able to figure out that he was pretty tall. Maybe about 6’1 or a few inches taller. He looked decent in a self coloured shirts and Jean’s with sneakers.

Once again she could feel herself being incised by a deep stare and she knew who it came from. The same ‘known’ stranger. Standing in the same spot everyday. In the same pose. With music blasting in his ears so loud that even she could decipher the song.

She was always successful in ignoring random stares. But till date never has she been able to look past this particular strangers stares. Not that she got intimidated. But she felt him diving deep into her soul as if trying to read her through and through.

She looked up slowly to catch him red handed, staring straight at her. He immediately shifted his gaze after their eyes met for a brief second. So did she turn her face to see girls staring at the supposed to be ’God of beauty′ as she had caught the phrase from the discussion of a group of students who always got excited when this particular being walked in. His dark brown orbs and messy hair falling of his forehead grabbed all the required attention of the youngsters aboard.

She didnt bother initially but as a year passed with their silent eye to eye conversation she would feel a slight pang of jealousy to see girls falling head over heels for him. Not that they spoke ever but their eyes always met and it felt as if they were actually having a conversation. A silent one. As right said, “Eyes speak the language of love”.

Except, no one knew if it was love.