She is trying to cross the road among a sea of haphazard hazardous traffic . She is wearing a bright orange saree with a bright orange blouse complete with a thick streak of vermillion powder poured in her oiled mid parted hair.
She looks like a bright evening sun trying to trudge through craziness of the world. Her dark skin is a contrast to her bright apparel . It’s like the sun is setting over the night or perhaps rising through it. She is standing still with her white grocery bag which is trying to stay politely in her grip almost blinded by her brightness. She seems a hard working proud young lady … thin like a tendril strongly sticking to life . Perhaps there are children back home and a husband at work while she braves the scorching sun ,definitely without a sunscreen on . I watch her through the window glass of my car and for some reason (besides her bright get up ) she blurs everything around her.
She boards the bus and rests her head on the front seat balancing it on her left arm and her left hand is in the view as she dozes off.
And oh how much it says about her .
Chipped red nail paint … says she likes to dress up sometimes but doesn’t get the luxury to carefully swab the evidence later . She leaves it to time to wear away the remains ;helped by the running water as she does the dishes and rinses the clothes … some bits stolen by the knife as she chops the vegetables and some she peels off unaware in anxious moments .Yes , she forgets about it in her’ ant ‘busy life. Picking up and balancing things 10 times her size and doing the to and fro guided by the chemical trail of the society’s dictum.
The little finger with a white pearl ring says she has a temper that she has tried hard to control and now has left that part to this astrological remedy . There is no way to know how far it has helped . A band-aid just above the ring is the trace of how life cuts through her skin. A stray scalpel in a chaotic surgery lands above the pearl leaving a gash . (Well ,she is a surgical nurse.)
The middle one sports her wedding ring . Old fashioned perhaps her mother-in-law’s choice . Not on her ring finger probably ‘cos it was a size bigger and there was never time to get it sized to settle where it belongs . So she wears it on the wrong finger .
I know she wakes up two hours before she boards the bus . Sets the meals and the essentials for the whole family and the moment she boards the bus it’s her time to rest for an hour .She will travel two hours again to reach back home from work only to plunge head on into the wide open mouth of the household chores till she dies to this day .
Yes, I know her a bit but her hand said more about her than she ever told.