Waiting in a metro

She waited a little more. She believed a little more.

Big hazy eyes. Saffron kurta and classy earring. It has been perhaps six months since she is waiting with yet same restless eyes. Everyday. For him. For the man, whose name she doesn’t know. For the face, she barely knows. For herself. Driven by his words- Believe a little more.

“Perhaps I’m gonna be little late……”, beeped my phone inbox. Little. Irony. Not again.

It has been four days since we shared this seat at this busy metro station and twenty minutes since we ever talked.

But I’m quite largely awed by her little secret.

She had been here at nearly this hour, same station six months back, when she was new to this city. She came here to try her luck. This city tested her naivety. Nothing turned right. She got into the metro to reach her place. She tells me, “I had decided I was leaving this city next morning”. Soon she realized she was not heading the right route. She had missed to change the route in between. “I got confused by all those yellow, blue lines. Metro routes. “I almost broke down. Then, he helped me out. He dropped me to the right station, and then he returned the other way around.” The Samaritan. “I broke down and cried ‘I’m returning home tomorrow…’ He just told- “Believe a little more.” Simple as that; it drove her energy to achieve what she has today. A week later, she has been waiting for him. She has been waiting everyday few hours after her work, searching for the face, then boarding metro at 11 pm, the same time and the same compartment she had boarded that day. Just to thank him. Perhaps more.

I ask her why has she been boarding same compartment, same station, same time? Why not different compartment at least?

She laughs. “I don’t know. I was never good at Math. Better the same compartment, same time. It would be greater probability, I guess. And a better surprise, I believe.”

Her words, quite a delight.

“What if he never turns out?” I’m now little worried about her.

She smiles a bit. “It would be good if he turns out. But if he doesn’t turn out, I guess, it won’t matter much. This is just I’m doing it for myself, rather than him; I’m pampering myself, making myself happy. Perhaps I won’t wait for him forever. Or I will; don’t know how long; only till I’m happy doing this. What really matters is I waited. Because I felt doing so.”

The clock struck 11. She rose to board her habit. We smiled at our little secret.

Beep. “A little more time, I guess.” Not again.

The speed of metro passing by makes me wonder how paradoxically her wait relates to mine. She has been waiting for the man she barely knows for this long. And I was here waiting for Nishant, love of my life; at least I used to think so for 5 years. Only I couldn’t stand waiting for him.

It has not been good since Nishant joined new job. We have been fighting. He says he is doing everything for our good; I don’t see any reason how. He gets so busy in work that he barely talks to me on phone, let alone meet like we used to. He tells me to wait for him so we could board metro together to our home. Only this idea of his makes me miss the last train and travel two hours by bus to get home in the dead night. I don’t know what I’m waiting for…

Just when the ring for the last train starts to ring, I see a familiar hair out of crowd running towards me. And the smile.

Perhaps, I should wait for him a little more.

Perhaps, I should believe him a little more.

Perhaps, It’s a lot worth waiting for.