Their arrival was heralded by sounds of rhythmic claps - their walk and presence distinct. Every train journey in India is colored by encounters with their mocking laughter, their devious ways of extracting money, especially from bashful young men.
She was beautiful, with full wine lips, eyes painted as raven jets, ringlets frolicking on either side framing her face - perfectly. She smiled at me as she entered the railway compartment - I smiled back. She was stunning as she teased, sparkled, flirted, cajoled, and coerced cash from the youths besides me. Work done, she turned to me-
She: "Do you work?" I: "No, I am a housewife"
She:" Then why is your hair cut?" I:" Because it is no longer beautiful"
She:"Women cut their hair if they go for job" I: Silent
She:" Are you ill?" I: " I am a little unwell"
At which, this young gorgeous woman shook her head in sympathy, laid her hand over my gray head - and blessed me.
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