Who She?

The night was unusually dark. No trace of moon and neither was it spotted with the stars. Clouded and breezy, the trees swayed and light karaoke of an old song rose from the radio at the tea stall. The tea brewed, and steam rose and vanished, as the salty sea-wind brushed it away. Marine Drive at 2:00 am in the morning is dotted with lights from the high–rises, overlooking the sea. Bombay’s most coveted and beautiful spot; for singles, heartbroken souls, couples, late night BPO employees, women groups after their rich-parties, laborers and students; surprising mix of customers for Marine Drive’s free beauty.

The pavement was well lit and the footwalk was swarming with chai- addicts. Sounds of cups rattling, talking, gossiping and sharing; all unwinded at this little corner of the big city, earnestly looking forward to the next day. The smell of tea and salty sea mixed into delightful concoction that so suited the dull sky. A vehicle of two passed by occasionally; this city that never slept looked suddenly sleepy today.

In her Parka hoodie and earphones fixed in her lobes, she sat at a slight distance from the tea stall reading a book, facing the sea. A disposable cup of tea brimmed beside her, she moved only to refix her hoodie that came off her head as the wind blew. To notice her, she looked more like a statue on the ledge, had she not adjusted her clothing. Occasionally she puffed a cigarette. Curious to notice that she never kept the cigarette between her fingers after a drag; she made it a point to keep the burning stash beside her, leaving it open and fast running. On closer analysis we see that it’s a thick book- Shantaram, and she seems to be delved into it. It’s funny, how many people Marine Drive caters to.

The ash from her cigarette piles up near her. She seems to have forgotten about it. Her concentration takes off the book and she brings the cold cup of tea to her mouth, sipping slow and calm. It looked like she got used to the hoodie being taken off by the warm-wind, now that we see her tuft of carefully organized hair- Perfectly tied and in place with two yellow tick-tacks, holding them from swaying around her pale face.

Her face is small and round, with thin eyebrows but big, beautiful luscious eyes. She throws a glance or two at the dark sea and closes her eyes at it, like she embraced the feel, or the wind from there within. She naturally attracts attention; there is something about her that we find hard to ignore.

She raises her head, glances at the sea, inhales deep for a few seconds as if a sigh and gets back to her book, turning a page. An exerting read. She narrows her eyes, takes out a free cigarette from her hoodie-pockets, not looking away from her page, places the cig in between her lips, lights the other end with a plastic lighter, closes-in her cheeks and exhales the cloud of smoke into the oblivion. 

She seems nice.

That’s her. 

Sorry, I dont have an image of a 'girl-with-a-hoodie', that I clicked. 

and I don't like picking photos off Internet.