The Girl In Red Heels – I

It was a hectic day. Late November, it was pretty cold and the dry November breeze had surprised us with rains. The weather was pleasant but the roads weren’t. I hurriedly took my backpack which I had fortunately packed and brought to work, sat on the backseat of the Royal Enfield of my all time buddy Rajeev and we rushed to the railway station.

 
The station was still ten yards away and there was a lot of traffic ahead. I got down and ran in full speed. Banging and pushing I tore through the crowd well aware of the fact that a few seconds and I shall be missing on my sister’s engagement. Reached the platform, “Where the hell is S7?” I yelled at the top of my voice trying not to pay attention to the deadly horn my train had just given. Again accelerating I finally saw S7 written and got on the train as the train swiftly moved stamping on someone’s leg who was standing on the small step at the entrance of the train. “Can you wave at your relatives later?” I murmured cursing the woman with blood red heels as they were. “Women with money, without brains” I thought to myself as I refused to even look at the one who had just annoyed the hell out of me. I stepped inside the compartment and after a bit search found my seat, the seat on the side with aligned with the motion of the train vertically. Glad to find the seat I sat there and settled down.

 
I was feeling very grateful for the back rest my seat had blessed me with. After sometime it felt like the weather was actually cosy. I crossed my legs and sat there dreaming of how a cup of mocha and Mom’s onion fritters would have added cherry on the cake.
Hours passed. I didn’t even realise when I fell asleep unaware of the metal box I was in, unaware of the speed at which my co ordinates were running and woke up only to the noise of the vendors who started coming. I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus on my watch. 8 am. It felt like all the lethargy, the pain , the exhaustion had gone away with my sleep.

 
I turned my head towards the other side of the part of the train I was in, to find a woman dressed in bright yellow. Her colour flawless Indian light wheatish, sleeves of her Kurti were pushed up to her elbows, fingers long and slender painted deliciously red with a pearl ring in her little finger. A brown leather bad lay on her lap as she sat looking out of the window. I could see only one side of the face, locks of her coffee brown hair falling down her shoulders in a neat fashion.

 
I thought I’d rather freshen than observe this creature of God. I went inside the washroom and while coming out as I opened the door in a swing stepping out, my eyes popped open to the stinging pain in my foot, I saw the lady in yellow giving me a blank expression. “Crap! Her eyes are so beautiful!” I almost shouted in my mind as she walked inside the washroom.

 
I came back and settled back on my seat. The part of the foot had become black. After sometime I while I was killing time looking here and there I discovered. The girl in yellow was the girl with blood red heels.
.

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