I know, 11 PM is not an apt time to wait at the bus stop, but you've to
blame my boss for that. That night, I had no one to accompany me except
for the crickets, moonlight and the trash lying on the road.
Amidst that trash was a half torn newspaper, proffering a smile which drew my attention. I walked few steps ahead with a desire to see the face that owned the mesmerising smile. But the edible item sprinkled with the spices and salt, formerly kept in that piece of paper, already shed off its colour on the picture and the news. All I could read was, that a lady named Vandana Desai, living in East Delhi, had been murdered. I threw the paper down and headed back to the bus stop only to find a dazzling creation of almighty, a pretty lady, sitting there. I had no idea how my eyes missed her arrival.
She was beautiful. Not solely because of her wide eyes and graceful features, but also because of what she was reading - “Evil under the sun.” And how can one reader not walk up to another on finding her reading his favourite book? The more I walked towards her, the more beautiful she seemed to be. It seemed as if she was stealing all the glow from the moon, to look the way she looked that night
. I swallowed the lump of hesitation down my throat and went ahead to initiate the conversation. In the next few minutes she electrified my senses with her know-how of Agatha Christie. Unfortunately, the arrival of bus impeded our conversation. As soon as I caught the bus, I turned back to ask her something, which I should’ve asked her earlier, her name.
''Hey, your name?''
''Vandana Desai'' she smiled.
And in her smile I saw the reflection of the photograph I had seen in the half torn newspaper.
''Who are you talking to young man?'', asked the conductor.
“Evil under the moon” I replied as I saw the vacant seat at the bus stop.
-Ayush Srivastava
Amidst that trash was a half torn newspaper, proffering a smile which drew my attention. I walked few steps ahead with a desire to see the face that owned the mesmerising smile. But the edible item sprinkled with the spices and salt, formerly kept in that piece of paper, already shed off its colour on the picture and the news. All I could read was, that a lady named Vandana Desai, living in East Delhi, had been murdered. I threw the paper down and headed back to the bus stop only to find a dazzling creation of almighty, a pretty lady, sitting there. I had no idea how my eyes missed her arrival.
She was beautiful. Not solely because of her wide eyes and graceful features, but also because of what she was reading - “Evil under the sun.” And how can one reader not walk up to another on finding her reading his favourite book? The more I walked towards her, the more beautiful she seemed to be. It seemed as if she was stealing all the glow from the moon, to look the way she looked that night
. I swallowed the lump of hesitation down my throat and went ahead to initiate the conversation. In the next few minutes she electrified my senses with her know-how of Agatha Christie. Unfortunately, the arrival of bus impeded our conversation. As soon as I caught the bus, I turned back to ask her something, which I should’ve asked her earlier, her name.
''Hey, your name?''
''Vandana Desai'' she smiled.
And in her smile I saw the reflection of the photograph I had seen in the half torn newspaper.
''Who are you talking to young man?'', asked the conductor.
“Evil under the moon” I replied as I saw the vacant seat at the bus stop.
-Ayush Srivastava
