She is crying. She is sobbing. Her parents try to pamper
her. She hugs her mother tight, tight, tighter. Another girl, she has also tear
in her eyes.
IMAGE SOURCE: http://wallpapers-diq.org/wallpapers/21/Artistic_Portrait_of_Beautiful_Girl_Crying.jpg |
Two families and two girls, they are not girls, they are beautiful
young ladies, must be in their 22-23, and they are crying, sobbing, weeping
hard.
IMAGE SOURCE: http://i952.photobucket.com/albums/ae1/Tearfallz/crying-girl-1.gif |
Train is about to start.
Their parents hug them.
They leave.
I feel much
uneasy. I hate tears at all. I hate them on me as well as on others. They
reminds me of the days, when I was weak, so weak emotionally, I used to cry
alone in my room, closed room, behind doors, I shouldn’t, a man has to be
strong, he shouldn’t cry, but I used to, when I was vulnerable.
I think of asking these young ladies, why they are crying so
much. Specially the 2nd one, deep eyes, filled with tear, and they are
falling nonstop. I think of, but I
shouldn’t. I look into her eyes. Our eyes met, but she doesn’t care, if other
passenger are watching her or not. I feel much stressed. I cursed myself for
switching my seat with an old man, leaving my lower birth in another
compartment.
Train begins to run fast, fast, faster. Her cries are lost
in the noise of the train. But she is still crying. I feel suffocated. I can’t
see anyone crying.
The happiness, the eagerness to attend my IIM-Lucknow
interview call is about to fade in the current situation.
I open my laptop. I
read today’s The Hindu newspaper. But my mind is not on the paper. I steal a look towards
her. I look from the corner of my eyes. Her tears have made a trails on her
beautiful face. Her eyes looks like she has just done kajal on them. But it is
not kajal, it is her tears, which cause her eyes to look like covered with
kajal. At least she is not crying anymore so loudly.
I feel relieved.
To be continued.
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