Romantic OS : The Love Train

'A phone?' 

Help? That too, from someone he didn't know? That would be a first - seeing how he was the kind of man who'd never lost a pen or misplaced a pair of shades so far. That being said, he HAD forgotten his mobile phone today. 'Of all days' And after having just worked out something of mammoth consequence in his head, he desperately needed to make a couple of calls. So contrary to the norm, he was quite willing to take her up on this unexpected offer - it was the matter of a couple of million pounds, after all. 'I wouldn't mind'

'Here you go...' She unlocked the screen and held it out.

As soon as he got his hands on the phone, he waved it to his right, indicating he'd have to step aside to make a private call.

No please? No thank you? 'Abrupt' It was tempting to judge him. But she decided to chalk up the abruptness to whatever crisis he might be in! 'Sure... but my 21:02 arrives in five minutes'

'So does mine!'

With a quick nod, he moved a few paces away - much too short on minutes and much too preoccupied with pressing matters, to take proper notice of the lady. In all fairness, she was a good bit shorter than him and he was not the sort of guy that stared. But just as his fingers were about to open the phone-pad, his eyes incidentally caught a fleeting glimpse of the background display - a picture of her. 'Pretty'. And her mister! 

'Wait...' Next second, his brows drew into a thick frown. 'Pretty?' That was random! He didn't even remember the last time he'd chosen the adjective 'pretty' for anything. Or, anyone! So, how or why did that adjective just pop up in his head? 'Anyway' A scoff later, he was back to business 'Don't have the time for this!' 

Writer:Lashy

Part 1

Dreamy was the length of her gaze. Or, was it sleepy? Either way, her eyes had fallen quiet upon the small dots lining the bottom of those feathered patterns. Their artificially-bright red from a day ago had already faded into a dullish orange.

'So many changes... so fast' she smiled, fighting back a lump 

Kash ki main palat jaon, 

Bachpan ki wadi main.

Koi aayat... koi jaadu... koi taweez laa do,

Yaad uski bahut aati hai!

'Di...'

6 months ago, they'd been planning a European trip as part of what was meant to be their first of several International vacations together. But October was here, and she was sitting at a London tube station, alone, with Henna-stained hands.

'Actually, no'

She couldn't claim to be alone. She DID have someone in her life now - a fiance, imagine that! 'Still' It didn't come anywhere close to vacationing with the one whom she'd intended to vacation with, in the first place!

Oh yes, she totally understood how a lone educated young lady with no parents and plenty of money to inherit, wasn't allowed to be 'alone' for long. Especially, one who came with a tiny shortcoming of her own. It was the Indian way.

'I did it to keep them happy... they've made plenty of sacrifices for me'

'They are my family... they're aware of what's best for me!'

Such cliches. It'd always make her giggle when she saw those dialogues play out on TV. Yet, those cliches were exactly what she'd succumbed to, when finally giving her semi-willing nod to the boy that her Godparents had chosen for her.

'Charming, Cute, Classy, Cultured... AND he lives in London!' Was how he'd been introduced. It'd become a mantra of sorts ever since.

Cute Classy Cultured and Charming - that's what she'd repeated to her friends. That's what she'd told the curious neighbour aunties and the cook back home before she'd left. That's what she seemed to keep repeating to herself too, about Abheer Raichand - starting from their first Whatsapp video call a few weeks ago, right up to the luncheon she'd had today, with him and his friends!

'Mrs. Raichand' A lazy smile sneaked its way onto her lips. She liked the sound of it. Quite a bit, in fact.

So, when a young man owned a surname as handsome-sounding as that, and ticked the all-important Cs, there should be no real reason to be unenthused over a future with him, right? 'No... shouldn't be'

And, there was more.

'Abheer didn't even ask many questions... regarding your condition'

Limited vision. It was the ophthalmologist's favourite go-to word for the condition she suffered. It hadn't limited her in getting herself an education. It didn't limit her ambitions. It definitely didn't limit her lifestyle. And it didn't seem to limit her husband-to-be's opinions of her.

'All I need to know about your eyes are that they are the sexiest brown eyes I've seen on anyone!' Abheer had declared, earlier, at the table - loud enough to be heard by friends, waiters and people two tables away. It was the 'buzz' from three Martinis talking, but that didn't make the message any less sweet to hear.

So, when a man said such a thing, she'd be a fool not to be giddy with happiness, wouldn't she? 'Yes' Her thumb fiddled with the straps of her bag.

'The change will make you forget' Maybe Kaka Kaki were right. Maybe she should just trust that they were aware of what was best for her - after all, they were the only parents she'd had most of her life!

Yet still, there WAS that little niggle - that figurative itch on the side of a neck that simply wouldn't go.

'A new person in your life will take away the loneliness' But, loneliness was a state of mind. And right now, in spite of having spent a fantastic day with Cute Classy Cultured Charmer and his friends, she couldn't remember feeling this alone in a long time!

'God... I'm overthinking it all'

Maybe what she needed was more than 6 months to mourn the absence of her bestie of 22 years - her sister! 'Di... I...' she let out a soft whisper that was suddenly sucked into a burst of wind from a passing train whizzing by at 40mph - its gusts sending her waist-length hair on a wild flapping spree. Holding down the ends of her tunic till the winds settled, she pinned back her locks and then stepped forward to look up at the platform's digital clock. 

'20:50' Another 10 minutes and she would be on her train.

A few odd stares came knocking at her face then, trying to pry into her thoughts. 'Not surprising' She wasn't hanging out with a group of girls gigging away to glory, nor did she have a love-struck boyfriend to publicly romance with. She wasn't a hippie living out of a suitcase and she definitely was no drunk football fan like most others around! She was an oddity here.

'Then again...' It was because of these football-frenzied fans that she'd become an oddity in the first place - stranded at this cramped station, instead of sipping coffee at the chic lobby of the Hilton, where a worried Kaka Kaki would still be up, waiting for her.

As things often went, what was meant to be a 'luncheon' did not start before 2:30pm and did not finish till 6:30pm! Abheer and his friends had plans after that - pre-arranged ones. Knowing how notorious such plans were, for stretching well into the night, she'd excused herself from it all. Most girls in her circle would've expected - even DEMANDED - that their fiances accompany them back to the hotel. Frankly, she wasn't too fussed. If anything, she didn't mind not having to fake-smile her way through the few extra hours. 'Was that telling?'

Besides, after having waged a mini-war every 5 minutes with a devil called 'jet lag', she'd wanted nothing more than to get back to cosy room 304.

Alas. It was football season. A match had just ended. Traffic had dragged several streets and corners to a gruelling standstill. Black cabs were good as mythical unicorns - nowhere to be found! Uber waiting times ran in hours instead of minutes. The luncheon group was too stoned to chauffeur her around, and with uncle - Abheer's father - having left for an important dinner meeting, she'd decided to take the next safest quickest way back to the hotel 'The London Tube!'

A bit of the 'discovering London via tube' experience would do her adventure-starved spirit some good, she thought. But 1 track incident and two cancelled trains later, it would be the 21:02 train that would become her first feasible mode of transport for the night!

Soon, the ground beneath her feet rumbled. The 20:56 was rolling in through the tunnel, its hum growing louder and louder till it drowned the announcements in the speakerphone overhead.

'My train's next...'

Since her eyes weren't so good with depths and heights, and since she didn't want to be a leaf tossed by waves of passengers flooding into train-carriages - she decided to fall a good few steps back.

'Damn it!'

'Damn it?'

A low deep whisper caught her drifting attention - so deep it nearly sounded gritty, and so low it actually stood out from the chatter, laughter, F-words and S-words jarring about. It was from someone - a man - standing approximately five brick-spaces away, leaning against the wall like she was. And something told her this traveller had just walked in. A traveller, who was an oddity too. For, he was dressed in Monday morning formals amidst the Saturday night frenzy. At least that's what a quick side-glance of his shoes revealed - a pair of black leathers. 'Derby black leathers'

'Damn it...' The sole of his boot tapped a frustrated tap on the floor. Twice. 'How could I? My Cell...'

'How could I? My Cell...'

His subsequent whisper sounded manlier than before - a feat she didn't think was possible. As if he was murmuring through closed knuckles.

A second side-glance, and she noticed a briefcase and a midnight-blue tailored suit. Tucked under the cuffs were wrists that were neither Caucasian white, nor a Latino brown. They seemed to be between the two - a rich shade of fair. 'Desi?'

She couldn't be sure. He was a good bit taller than her and she would have to crane her neck up to know any better. Not the sort of thing she would do!

'Enough with the curiosity already!'

But just as her mind was about to let it all go, she heard a few gentle taps. He was frisking his pockets. 'Searching for his cellphone?' The next second, she sensed him angling past her, in a hunt for something. And then, he turned in the opposite direction, repeating the same 'Searching for a kiosk, maybe?'

It was clear that the man was flustered from having lost his cellphone, and needed to DO something, or BE somewhere urgently. Back home, one would generally offer up a mobile in such circumstances. Was it the same here? What if she did that and the Londoners looked at her like she'd sprouted an extra head?

'Of all days... of all days... seriously... I cannot believe it! Wh...'

His glare had caught a small shadow gliding close to his private space. Very close.

'I... I am sorry...' the gentle voice spoke 'I did not meant to, but I overheard...' she paused 'Would you by any chance need a phone?'

'A phone?'

Help? That too, from someone he'd never met? That would be a first - seeing how he was the kind of man who'd never lost a pen or misplaced a pair of shades so far. That being said, he HAD forgotten his mobile phone today. 'Of all days' And after having worked out something of mammoth consequence in his head, he desperately needed to make a couple of calls. So, contrary to the norm, he was quite willing to take her up on this unexpected offer - seeing how the matter concerned a couple of million pounds. 'I wouldn't mind'

'Here you go...' She unlocked the screen and held it flat.

As soon as he got his hands on the phone, he waved it to his right, indicating he'd have to step aside to make a private call.

No please? No thank you? 'Abrupt' It was tempting to judge him. But she decided to chalk up the abruptness to whatever crisis he might be in!

'Sure... but my 21:02 arrives in five minutes'

'So does mine!'

With a quick nod, he moved a few paces away - much too short on minutes and much too preoccupied with pressing matters, to take proper notice of the lady. In all fairness, she was a good bit shorter than him and he was not the sort of guy that stared. But just as his fingers were about to open the phone-pad, his eyes incidentally caught a fleeting glimpse of the background display - a picture of her. 'Pretty' And her mister. 'Engaged?'

'Wai...' Next second, his brows drew into a thick frown. 'Pretty?' That was random! He didn't even remember the last instance he'd chosen the adjective 'pretty' for anything. Or, anyone! So, how or why did that adjective pop up in his head? 'Anyway...' a scoff later, he was back to business 'Don't have the time for this!'

The young man dialled his number in, as fast as his fingers would allow. 'Come on' he tucked an impatient palm inside his pocket 'come on... come on... come on...' 4 rings. 6 rings. 8 rings. 10 rings. Voicemail. 'Drat!' If the desk was where he'd forgotten the phone, the offices must be locked and none of his colleagues around.

'Fine' Keying the number of a close friend in, he waited, crossing one restless foot in front of the other 'Pick up...' 4 rings. 6 rings. 'Oh come on... we've got to stop them... before it's too late...' 8 rings. 10 rings.

'Hello?'

'YES!!!!'

'Thank you' he was about to say while handing the phone over.

But she seemed to be in a rush - tucking back the locks that'd stubbornly wrapped themselves across her face and shoulders from the blasts of the 21:02 that was making its presence felt.

Grabbing the phone from him, she dropped it into her tote and then rushed forward with the partially-closed bag, alongside waves of crowds flooding towards the train-carriage doors.

'Bizarre' Why the hurry? It was exactly what thousands of others did too, each hour each day - scrambling to get into the train carriages at once! The irony? Everyone on the platform generally got in anyway, managing to pack themselves into any and every available nook, resembling sardines in a tin.

So, he stood where he stood, letting the madding crowd proceed first. And that was when a light-coloured object in the tote of the pretty lady, flashed past his eyes. 'A stick?' Well, it did appear to be a stick of some sort. A white reflector stick. 'Strange' Actually, not merely strange - it was unusual, abnormal AND intriguing too. Why would a lady carry a stick in her bag?

'Unless...' The focus of his glares narrowed

Unless, it was a guide-stick of course! The foldable ones that were generally used by those who were blind. 'But then...' This lady's vision was apparently working fine!

The young man paused.

'Seriously, now?' It could be anything. Either way, since when was HE the sort of guy who let a woman's belongings rent space in his head? So, why start today? 'Been having a long week, haven't I?'

However, just as his mind was about to move on to its own thing, he spotted her peeking down in an uncertain way - at the ground. Or at least she was trying to, amidst the crowds. 'Wait a sec' Another random thought popped up in his head. What if she was visually impaired? 

'Not sure...' But that could explain why she'd been in a rush - if she needed more time to make her safe way into the carriages. Had he delayed her then, by borrowing her phone until the nth moment?

'Careful... the gap's wide there'

A hot breath brushed past her shoulders, touching her skin with no prior warning, sending the hair on her neck tingling in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant. 'The gritty voice...' It was the mysterious whisperer.

Holding steady, the young lady peeked down. 'Finally' In a split-second, she'd managed to spot the large gap between the edge of the platform and the train - a gap that dropped straight down to grimy electrified tracks beneath, literally centimetres away from her shoes.

It was also in that split-second that she recognised how the shoving had stopped! And she needed no time to guess why - he was standing right behind her. The second breath brushing past her shoulders had confirmed it.

Armed with a better view of the dangers now, she got in with fresh confidence and grabbed whichever part of the carriage's metal pole she could grab, for better footing. But, it was a bit of a totem pole hierarchy on reaching there - where the first and biggest passengers got the best spots and she was delegated a mere two inches at the bottom.

Clink! A chunky ring hit the steel. A broad palm had claimed a spot just above hers as the doors closed - freeing up further space for her to hold onto.

'Midnight blue...' Her lashes slowly went up - giving her, her first eyeful of the whisperer standing on the other side of the metal bar. All 6'2 of him! 'G...' A few beats instantly went missing in her chest. The voice was intense-enough. That he'd have the face to match that voice, who would've thought? Falling short of his shoulders, his locks rolled in soft waves - their tips like streaks of sand dunes during a red sunset. His sharp features spoke of a man who wouldn't let life mess with him, and his sharp jawline of someone who wouldn't let others mess with him. However, the best part of that picture were his eyes. One solid colour. Black. Reminded her of onyxes. With as many facets. Tempting it was, to take count of those facets - but she wouldn't know where to stop if she did. 
Craning up to steal glances of someone was not the sort of thing she would do! But she had - and strangely, she wasn't regretting it much.

Regrets? Well, his sentiments weren't altogether different. Nah, he wasn't the sort of man who stared. Considered it ungentlemanly. Till now, that is. And somehow he wasn't too conflicted about breaking his own rules either.

'Pretty?' What a watered-down adjective that was, to describe the rarity he was met with. Pretty was for peaches and pink roses. Routine stuff. Pretty was for the women one often came across in his corporate line of profession. No. She was something else. 'Divine?' His jaw twitched tight. THAT might be a better choice.

Cream Cashmere was her skin that wrapped around the svelte curves of her slender frame. Offsetting it was hair of dusky black, lusciously tumbling down her shoulders, before coming to a stop somewhere below her waist. Her lips were a dewy pink - despite all hints of a lip gloss having vanished. But what swindled most of his attention were her eyes. Beneath thick lashes were a pair of amber-shaded eyes. There was a mellow glow about them. So mellow it could draw anyone in, like a drug. And keep them there. Possibly forever.

Hardly a full minute had the quiet affair between their gazes lasted. But full use of those 60 seconds did they make - interrupted by hardly a blink.

Until an automated announcement echoed three stations later, when the doors had opened -

'Mind the gap...'

'Mind the gap...'

'Mind the gap...'

'Careful... the gap's wide there'

Oops. She'd forgotten to thank him for his gesture earlier, hadn't she?

Pursing back a faint smile, she lifted her eyelids up once more - when her glimpses were dazzled by a gleam of metal underneath his tie, through the slim opening below the top button of his shirt. 'A Taveez?' 

...Koi aayat... koi jaadu... koi taweez laa do

Yaad uski bahut aati hai...

The base of his throat suddenly moved.

And that snapped her awake 'Oh my G...' She was instantly dragged back to reality - the reality of 21:02, of the luncheon, of Abheer Raichand; and to how very unlike herself she was behaving right now. An alarmed half-glance in his direction and she knew - he'd been watching her watching him. Watching her watching his chest, more like it!

'What was I thinking?' Mentally slapping herself hard, she turned aside pronto, to some random spot on the tube map. This was crazy. This was embarrassing. This was crazy embarrassing. What opinion must he have of her? 'How many stops to go?' Lesser the stops, lesser the chances that she'd make a fool of herself again! Till then, she'd watch the maps, the seats and the poster-ads instead. Plenty of distractions to keep her occupied, ensuring she'd take hardly any note of the beats that continued to go missing - little reminders of the presence of the young man that stood a few inches apart.

What opinion must he have of her? Well, he'd hardly got past the 'Divine' yet. And now that the creamy cashmere of her features were teased with a bright red far brighter than the colour of her henna - he was struck with something else. A fleeting urge to know if they were anywhere as warm as the heat climbing up the sides of his clean-shaven neck just then. So much so, his thumb on the metal pole twitched from the thought.

'Brighter than the colour of her henna?'

Henna! HENNA? He sucked in a short burst of air. The 'henna' reminder had served as a bat to his urges, smashing it to bits. She had a man in her life, didn't she?

'What was I thinking?' This was getting ungentlemanly - so very unlike himself. What'd gotten into him? 'A long week - THAT's what has gotten into me! Buck up, man!' 

Anyway three stations more and then he'd be off!

Part 2

'What's your station?'

'What?'Was Mr. Midnight Blue ACTUALLY asking her about her station? Was he actually making an attempt to strike a direct conversation with her? An obvious step up, from the unasked questions and unsaid messages that'd been going back and forth. 

With a sigh, she turned to face the thrill-ride - a ride that she'd just stepped out of with the thrills getting far too heady. And here she stood, staring at it in the face again.


Yes, he did ACTUALLY ask her the name of her station. No doubt, his pulse was still reeling from the highs of a mere look at those intoxicating eyes, so he was well-aware that it might be unwise to strike a conversation with her. But when her attention hadn't come unstuck from a random spot in the tube map for the past couple of minutes, he wasn't sure if she was struggling to work out where her station was, or if it was because it was something else. What he WAS sure was that, if it was the former, it'd forever niggle him at the back of his head that he hadn't helped the pretty lady who'd saved him a couple of million pounds! 'Where do you get off?' 

'Hammersmith'

'Oh that's 7 stations away... after...Baron's court'

'Yes... thank you... I'd sorta calculated it...' her reply stalled 'and what about you?'

'Knightsbridge'

'Knightsbridge' she shrugged gently, glimpsing around. 
A couple of stations had come and gone by, fewer passengers getting in than out. The carriage was emptier - pairs of seats behind them vacant. 
'Seats' she nodded 'I'm grabbing one'

'You go ahead' he nodded back 

Dropping her bag on the aisle side, she took a seat by the window, with legs crossed at her knees. 'Knightsbridge'

She peeked at her reflection on the dark glass. 'Wow, I am a mess!' The kohl had smudged beneath the line of her lashes, her skin was dull and her hair could do with a serious comb through! Ordinarily, past 9 pm the last thing she worried about was her appearance. But for whatever reason, 'today' was an exception!
Subtly wiping off the excess kohl and liner, she ran her fingers down from the top of her hair and twisted the bulk of it, letting it fall to one side in crests. 

'Yooo hooo'

All of a sudden, a horde of youths came barging in through the sliding doors between the cars. One wouldn't need more than a blink to know that they were drunk, disorderly and had nothing better to do than spoil people's moods as they paraded down the aisles, hopping from one train-car to the next.

'Hooligans' Keeping her face firmly glued to the window, the young lady decided to stay out of their sight. However, they didn't take long to spot her. The perfect victim she made - lone, young, minding her own business. 

And soon trouble was her new company - in the form of seven lanky lads. 

'Yo lady... you wouldn't have a cigarette on you, would you?'

'Ugh...' They reeked - not only of alcohol and cigarette stench, but of something else too. 'Weed? God!' 
She obliged the bullies with nothing that'd give them a rise - not even an annoyed glare. 

'Dayummm' Hurling each other not-so-subtle winks, the hooligans huddled closer to her seat - their sharp cackles directed at her face meant to poke a reaction out of her. 
'Yo lady...'

Apart from a few icy fingers clutching her purse tightly, she did not move a muscle trying to keep cool on the outside. Of course, inside she was a tangled bundle of frayed nerves. 'Call 999... dash off as soon as the next stop comes... pull an emergency alarm if there's one around' Her mind was running through all escape scenarios, while she sat put through every girl's worst nightmare that could come true when riding a 9 pm train, in a new city, with no proper company. 'What luck!' And she thought, she'd be safe seeing how this was a well-lit public transport in London, not an alleyway in Delhi! 

'This lady has no cigarettes!'
'How about a beer?' 
'You should be having THAT on you?'

'I have THIS on me... should be enough?'
With that snappy suggestion crashing right into their party, the lads were compelled to put the revelry on hold and peep up at the one who'd offered up the suggestion. 
'What the heck' Their cackles warped into smirks. This man wasn't their typical party crasher - what with his suit-and-tie attire! 'What does he think he is doing?'

However as the young man slipped his hand out of his pocket, the looks in their eyes changed. 'Wohooo!' He was holding something sweeet - in their favourite shade of green. A minute ago, they'd been sizing him up, to confront him and now they loved him already.

This dude was aware that aggression against them would only end in violence. So, he spoke the language they spoke! If only the rest of the do-gooders acted more like him, rather than reaching for their cells to call the cops!
'Man...' The un-appointed alpha of the gang whistled 'You are good' Holding his beer-stained hand out from where he sat, he waved his fingers into a hand-it-over gesture. 

However, the young man wouldn't budge from his spot. Instead, he waved the note back with a come-get-it-yourself gesture.

The alpha-lad sneered at his friends. 'Nah' He wouldn't take it personally. Not when he was being offered up money. So, he got off the seat and got himself to the man. 
'Thank you' He went for the bill with a rascally click of his tongue. But the next second, his hand wouldn't retract. Trapped it was, in the suited man's clutches. Tightly. He was a strong lad himself, but despite a few hard wriggles it wouldn't come free - neither the bill, nor his own hand. 'What the...'

The young man smirked. Before he'd give up that money, he had a query of his own.
'Leave her alone, won't you?' he whispered through very neatly clenched teeth.

The alpha-lad bore into his captor like a riled-up ram. But it became clear he wouldn't get the money - not till he blurted an answer. There were queries. And then, there were QUERIES. This one was definitely the 'second' type! 'Of course...' he promised with a nasty blink 'she's all yours!'

With that assurance, the money was theirs to keep.
In a jiffy, they bolted out of the carriage. 

'Oh my God... thank you!'

As soon as their cackles moved onto the next train-car, she grabbed a water bottle from her tote and downed a big gulp. Those cackles were still faint, however. They hadn't disappeared altogether.

'Must I...' her nervous palms churned the bottle. 'Must I just hop off at the next station?' 

Plop! A briefcase landed on the chair opposite hers. A pair of Derbies had stepped into her aisle.

The bottle-churning instantly stopped. 

'Mr. Midnight Blue' The young lady watched him take the seat facing hers - her fingers not so icy now. Maybe she needn't worry about hopping off midway, after all?

'Thank you so much!' She swiftly sighed, lest she got distracted and forgot to show her gratitude again!

'That's ok'

Letting his shoulders fall upon the backrest, the young man loosened the rigid top knot of his tie. Dropping an elbow upon one armrest and the other across his thigh, he slid into a nonchalant, end-of-the-day, pose.

It wasn't intentional from her end. It definitely wasn't. But when he sat facing her, with his elbows folded, her gazes couldn't help but notice the healthy manner in which the muscular half of his arm filled his coat sleeves. She had to bite the inside of a cheek hard as she felt a soft grin coming on 'Fine specimen' Wasn't that the sorta term novella authors used to describe such a man? Well, whatever the term, she definitely needn't worry about hopping off midway!

'Hopping off midway? Oh yes...' She dipped her hand inside her bag and unfastened an inner zip 'The money - you paid those bullies...'

'Oh yes... such lads are a nuisance... had to get rid of them quick... I noticed a couple of passengers in the next car trying to contact the authorities...'

'Ok... I... I'll pay you back... for it'

'Forget about it...'

The young lady was about to insist again - emphatically - to ensure she repaid him the money. But a quick study of that languid smirk and she could tell he meant every bit of the 'Forget about it'

Having said that, he DID buy her a precious spell of peace and safety. And it felt odd not to pay him back in some way. 'Maybe later...'

She went for another sip, when her hand halted midair. For a split second, his pupils had followed the bottle.

'Water?' She gestured. Surely after all that'd happened he must be thirsting for a sip too.

'Water?'

From a stranger? That would be a first too. But, with everything that'd happened, he had been desperate for a drink. So, he didn't mind taking her up on this offer either.

'Thank you...' He leaned forward, raising a spirited brow.

Taking the bottle up to his lips, he took a generous sip. But as he set it down, his eyes fell upon her silent features, and then upon the rim of the bottle. 'Lips...' 

Her lips had touched it, a second ago. And he'd just sipped on it. He should've held the bottle afar while drinking. He would've done so, normally. But in his desperation for a drink now, it'd slipped his mind.

The young man ran a gaze over her features. Her ongoing silence did not reveal much - but it was enough to tell him she wasn't displeased.

Bemused, his gazes traced a stealthy path from her features, down to her lips. 'Slipped my mind?'

Well, whether it'd slipped his mind or not, he found it hard-pressed to feel sorry about what'd happened. Honestly speaking? He began deriving an uncanny pleasure from it. Small, yet uncanny. Especially as he checked out the dewy contours of her lips now, and their pink hue...

'Bloody hell...'

His pulse was gaining pace faster than the train they were journeying in. Downing another generous sip of water - a futile attempt to slow his pulse down - he handed the bottle back. 'What has gotten into you? End of a tiring week? A whim? Too much testosterone?' He was no player - FAR from it! So three slips in under ten minutes could not be a coincidence - not for a man who had a slip-proof will like his! 'Really... what ARE you doing?' His conscience was about to take off on a rant. However, biting through the lack-of-answers, he shut the voices down before they'd get too vocal. Oddly, he wasn't in the mood to let himself be tied to a chair and beat up over a few forbidden fantasies anymore. True, he had no proper answers to shut these voices. But not every question needed to have an answer anyway, or there'd be no mysteries left. True, this journey had no destination. But not every journey needed to have a planned destination or there'd be no adventures left. True, these moments were becoming the wildest mix of sweet, sour and scintillating that'd ever been packed into twenty minutes of his life! But as long as he treaded quietly upon these tracks for the next couple of stations, it would all fade into a nice-yet-distant memory. 

So, he sailed back onto the seat - ignoring the white stick that was peeking up from her bag and waving a 'Hi' to him, as she dropped the bottle in.

'Oops' Her ring got caught in the zip-tassle as she tried shutting the bag, ruining the threaded-arrangement by pulling a thread out. Hurrah - just when she hoped she wouldn't make a fool of herself again! 'It's new...' she immediately found the need the justify herself, with a mild shrug 'getting used to it...'

'The ring?'

'Yes...'

'Wedding?' 

Wonderful - just after he'd had that huge philosophical self-talk about treading softly upon the tracks, he'd dived right into a personal topic. Quite personal a topic to broach with a lady he'd met on a train - his introverted self was well aware of it. He'd broached it nevertheless - as if to prove his own hunches right.

'Engaged' She quickly corrected him 'And you?'

'Nah' His head shook, as if he hadn't even given the notion a thought yet

That response almost made her want to smile. She'd had her own hunches. His answer had just proved them right. 'My fiance lives in London...' A wistful pause split her sentence 'I was returning from a luncheon with him and his friends... but the football madness - Lord... I got delayed!'

'Oh I see...' He acknowledged with a cordial smile. The expression in his head however, wasn't so cordial. 'Fiance? Strange man!' 

Yes, this young lady seemed perfectly capable of managing herself. And doubled yes, thousands of women travelled all over the country at all times of night. But, it would take no Sherlock to figure out that she wasn't from around here. If it were indeed true that she did have a visual impairment - then how was her fiance ok with her having to traipse through drunk football crowds, alone, in places she'd never travelled through, at night? Suffice to say, his own modus operandi was different. So, his first impressions of such a man was a word he wouldn't utter in the presence of a lady.

'Whatever' His fingers went about loosening the tie further, before popping open the top collar button. 'Man... it's sultry here...' An unusually hot day in a hot train, wasn't it? Or, was he simply bothered? But, bothered with what? The 'fiance'?

'Seriously?' Bothered with a man he hadn't even met? Bothered for the sake of a lady, unaware of the full extent of their circumstances. 'Ridiculous!'

'Ah finally...' she managed to get the tangled thread off - free to get her bag ready to dismount.

Her eyes searched his face for a reaction.

His eyes searched her eyes that were searching his face for a reaction.

What did she want him to say? Follow-up on their 'ring' conversation by complimenting it? Make small talk regarding her engagement? It felt rude to deny her a response, for whatever reason. So, he blurted the next thing off the top of his head. 'Unusual colour...' He hadn't observed the jewel closely. But from what he thought he saw, the stone was a dark brown. Weren't engagement rings supposed to be diamonds and bright whites?

'Unusual colour? Oh yes... dark brown... my fiance chose it because he felt it matches the colour of my eyes...' she muttered as the train was about to pull into the station - her hand fiddling with the bag-strap she was meant to pick up. 'Hammersmith?' Already? All evening she'd been dying to get back to her room - and now, it seems, she didn't mind hanging out here for a tad bit longer!

'Alright...' Getting over that strange lull, she ultimately gathered up her tote before it'd get too late - stealing a glimpse of the young man for one last time,  'goodbye... nice meeting you'

He didn't respond to the farewell. Didn't say anything - even when she passed by him towards the doors of the carriage. As it is, a myriad of sentiments were sitting in his chest, refusing to budge. Saying a goodbye-and-goodluck would somehow add to the annoying burden of it.

'You know...' he wished her from his seat, before the doors opened - a faint smirk lining the corners of his mouth 'Not dark brown. AMBER is the shade of your eyes. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise'

'Not dark brown. AMBER is the shade of your eyes.'

A gasp hitched in her throat, sending her hand up to her chest. In such a brief encounter he knew the shade of her eyes better than the man who was to wed and cherish her. 'Don't let anyone tell you otherwise' The words melted into her veins like molten liquid - there was an untold authority, an unbridled belongingness in them. 'Not dark brown. AMBER is the shade of your eyes. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise' 

'Mind the gap...'

'Mind the gap...'

'Mind the gap...'

A second gasp hitched in her throat when the carriage doors slapped shut in front of her face. And that is when she noticed her feet on the platform. 'Wh...' In such a daze was she, that she hadn't the slightest idea when her legs had stepped down from the train! 'The money!' She'd intended to pay him back. And she hadn't done that. 'His name?' At some point, she'd meant to ask him his name. She hadn't been able to do that either. They hadn't exchanged numbers, or email ids. She had no information on him - what he did, where he lived, nothing! After everything that'd transpired between them, he was nothing beyond a silhouette behind a dark window now. And by next minute even that was gone - a distant memory he'd become, along with the train that'd left.

She was a displaced box, full of blank emotions, on an empty platform.

'Knightsbridge!' That's the station he'd said he was getting off, at! 'Maybe that's where he lives?'

Her feet hurried towards the wall that had a large display of the tube map. 'Knightsbridge... Knightsbridge... Knightsbridge... Knightsbridge'
She searched every station after Hammersmith. But there was no Knightsbridge on the Piccadilly line after Hammersmith! 'Wait a sec...' Her glances started backtracking - searching the stations BEFORE Hammersmith on the Piccadilly line. There it was - five stations back! 'Then, why didn't he get off there?'

A few ragged breaths later, it dawned upon her 'The gang!' That's when they'd barged in, hadn't they? 'Yes...' She rubbed her forehead as it all came back. He HAD planned to alight at Knightsbridge - that is why he hadn't originally taken up a seat when she had, and continued to wait by the door. But the gang episode had possibly caused him to change his mind, and stay back. Maybe he'd then taken a seat nearby, giving her company to put her nerves at ease. 'And of course... I was too disturbed to notice that Knightsbridge had passed or to hear the overhead announcements'

Her fingers repeatedly dabbed away the wet film that kept misting over her pupils.

'In thirty minutes...' Yes, in thirty minutes, this man had shown more care, and made her feel safer than the one who'd vowed to protect her forever. In fact, he had made her feel safer than most others she'd known all life.

'But then...' She looked up at the empty tracks. 'Why didn't he get off here, at Hammersmith, with me?' He could have taken the next train back to Knightsbridge from here. It didn't make sense!

'You know... not dark brown. AMBER is the shade of your eyes. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise'

She brushed the prickle riding up her arms That's why...' That line was meant to be a farewell!

He did not want to get off here, with her, because he did not want to add to the silent moments they'd already shared. He did not want to linger around, with her, because he wanted to end this unnamed connection between them - after all, the longer they held onto it, the greater it'd hurt when let go. Basically, he did not want to get off here, with her, out of respect for the fact she was engaged to another man.

A cold line ran down her cheeks. She touched it. It was her first tear in a while. At least, she was not a box of blank emotions anymore. At least, she could feel again - unlike the numb young lady that she'd become over the past couple of months.

Tring... Tring...

With reception having returned at the station, the missed calls from kaka kaki and a few messages from Abheer showed up.

Wiping her face, she picked up her phone. 'Hello?'

'Hey it's me Abheer... have you reached the hotel yet? Been worried...'

Three days later...

Neatening the base of her nail by picking at two tiny extra specks of crimson polish, she examined her handiwork. 'Hmmm chalega...'

With that odd job done, she moved on to the next diversion. The passport! Flapping the pages of her passport from front to back, and then back to front, the young lady took her nth peep of the stagnant queue ahead. The only thing longer than that queue in this terminal, was poor Abheer's face - what with the wait to send her off becoming a never ending phenomenon!

A large family had occupied one check-in desk. A quarrelsome couple had held up another. And the status quo hadn't changed in the past half an hour. With the automatic check-in kiosks not working, the area reminded her of a spruced-up lal bazaar!

Not to mention - wailing infants, squeaking wheels of trolleys, constant announcements, kids running in and around prams, and the worst culprit of the lot - people shouting into their mobile phones.

But hey - this was Heathrow International, one of the world's busiest airports. Such scenes were the norm, eh?

'Hello Pushpa... yes... how are you?'

She smiled on hearing the excited trill behind her. THERE was that culprit she was talking about - dear kaki deciding to catch up over phone with Pushpa aunty from C block, while standing in the queue.

'London? Yes... it's been very nice... we visited the Big Ben and Houses of Parliament yesterday... but baap re... too much walking... my knees... you know na... oh the wedding... yes... it's in November... yes yes yes... not many days left... keep a watch out for any good deals... wedding shopping will start as soon as I land... ha ha ha... yes yes yes... ladkaa bahut achaa hai... I'll tell you everything when we get there... it's been a lovely trip overall... yes bye...'

'It's been a lovely trip overall...'

That was one fact she wouldn't deny. When having to set out on this trip, without her bestie, she'd presumed the entire experience would be a distraction. Nothing more. Definitely hadn't expected the word 'memorable' could be used for any part of it.

But she was wrong.

There had been fun times.

There'd been blah times.

There'd been emotional moments.

'And then...'

There'd been a few unforgettable moments too.

'Careful... the gap's wide there...'

She let that light burst of 'What coulda been, what woulda been' flutters settle - a feeling she was learning to come to terms with, over the past couple of days. A few minutes on, she turned around to check up on how Abheer was doing.

The lone guy was busy, dialing a number.

Tring... tring...

Buzzed the caller tune on her mobile the next second. 'Oh hello...'

'Hello'

The greeting came across as a whisper. A deep whisper. Familiarly deep.

Her fake-smile began melting away. Ounce. By ounce. By ounce.

Following a stunned pause, her heart leapt to race its fastest race - his hush breaths echoing by her ear from the other end of the line. 'Hello...'

'We met in the train... a few days ago... Piccadilly line... remember?'

'Remember?' Was he KIDDING? She turned away so kaka kaki wouldn't catch the fog of emotions on her face. 'Y... yes I do... how did you get my number?'

'I'd called my phone from yours, the other day...'

'Oh yes!' She cupped her mouth, stifling a near-laugh. Because she could not burst out and cry from utter-fricking-relief in Heathrow International, could she? 'Oh yes...'

'I apologise... I wouldn't ordinarily do this... and I know you must be busy... but...' there was hesitance in his tone 'I've sent you a message... I'm not sure how you'll feel about this... but... I had to do, what I had to do...' he said nothing for a bit 'Goodbye... goodluck'

'Goodbye'

The call went dead, before she could say anything else. She didn't have the wits to say anything to him just then, anyway.

'Message?' Her frantic fingers unlocked the screen and clicked opened the first unread message. It was long. 

Hi,

The night we met, I was returning from work, after a dinner meeting with a prospective client... we were meant to sign a deal... but on my way to the station, I'd worked out an oddity in my head and wanted to stop the deal from going ahead... by borrowing your phone that night, I'd managed to do precisely that...

'Alright...' The message was not quite what she had expected. Was he thanking her for having lent her phone? 'Not sure...'

Taking a few deep breaths to calm her giddy head, she read on -

I ended up saving myself a few pounds - thanks to your timely help! And as I'd suspected, my forensic accountants pulled something up on this company.

On informing the prospective client that the deal was off, he walked into my office this morning... with his son... to convince me otherwise... that was when I recognized the face of Mr. Raichand's son, from the one on your dp.

So, I thought it only fair that you know. I've sent you a couple of attachments. I think you'll work out the rest.

Her face had gone as pale as the ambient LED lights above. 'WHAT in the...' A royal mess her mind was, by the time she'd opened the first attachment. 'An official letter?' At least that's what it appeared to be.

She zoomed in. The letterhead read - Mercyside Legal Accountants. What followed was a detailed report of an investigation into the accounts and finances of a company. A few words instantly stood out - Mr. Raichand, London, company, accounts fraud, litigation.

'Oh my God' It took three shaky taps before her unsteady fingertips would be able to move on to the next two attachments - basically, different sets of charges against the same set of people.

The fourth attachment was a letter, confirming all that she'd already summarized.

'This can't be true!'

Sometime later...

'Abheer...'

'Hey babe... bored of the queues, aren't you?' He grinned, putting his phone down.

Somehow, to her hardened stares, that cute grin didn't look so cute anymore. 'Got something interesting to show you...'

She held up the fourth attachment for him to view - a summary of the financial complaints registered against his company.

'What?' His fake-grin faded away. Bit. By bit. By bit. 'What is this?' he zoomed into the attachment in a frenzy 'Litigations on papa's company? Is this some practical joke? Spam?' He chuckled, his brows fighting hard to keep the irked frown from popping up on them 'Which sick idiot has sent you this? One of my friends?'

Abheer Raichand was trying to play it cool, but she'd seen what she'd come to see. The my-game's-up expressions - glimpses of real fear and desperation. Oh yes, she'd double-checked part of the information from the attachments already. And of what she could find online, they seemed to add up. 'Unbelievable' No wonder he was never interested in asking her about the condition of her eyes. Why would he - when all she was to his family, was access to an inheritance that'd save them from financial ruin?

As expected, he went off on a tirade about scammers, cheats, charlatans, fraudsters and whatnot; while she calmly zoomed into the first attachment - the one that stated the name of the company they'd tried to deceive. Holding it up again, she showed him that it was not a scammer, cheat, charlatan or fraudster that'd sent her the attachment.

'THIS company sent you all this? WHY? And how do you know them?'

She said nothing. She was no fool to reveal her sources.

'The boss of that company, Akbar Mahmoud Khan, must have something against papa...' he shook his head 'professional rivalry... he's trying to malign us... that Mr. Khan is a corrupt man... a crook... met him this morning... to set things straight!'

'I see...'

Of course, Abheer wouldn't stop at that. He went on. And on. And on.

But, Heera wasn't really listening anymore.

He'd admitted knowing the company.

Admitted knowing its boss.

Admitted they'd met this morning too.

She really didn't need to hear any further.

Instead, her mind was beginning to wander away, treading quietly towards the tracks of Piccaddily line.

'Mr. Khan...' A faint smirk lined the corners of her mouth. So, THAT was the name of her mysterious whisperer. 

The Beginning...