She was sittting beside me in the compartment.Draped in a white cotton saree spotting a big red bindi and a flower stoned nosepin. Her grey tresses waved by occasionaly.Fixing her eyes out the window panes she was lost in thoughts.Her wrinkled fingers quite often ran through her grey tress locks which was as white as snow....When the book vendor passed through and placed a pile of books before us, her eyes sparkled... My eyes hooked in Chetan Bhagat penned The Girl in Room 105,(as am in such a mood to flip through something silly as life mounts up with serious stuffs).With a sparkle in eyes she asked "Is it a Chetan Bhagat work"?She just took it and skimmed the blurb. Soon she asked the vendor for another copy.. I couldnt hold my wonder as i have never seen in my life an old woman "supposed" to read Bhagavt gita or Narayanneyam..passionately grabs a Chetan bhagat novel..As she was engrossed in the novel,a choclate vendor passed by,and with the same sparkle for Chetan bhagat she got a diary milk silk..(i too got one since i cant hold the heartbreaking sight of devouring choclates).She peeled the cover and devoured it heavenly with her wrinkled fingers... How my mind rejoiced at these pleasant sights of foreseeing a wrinkled me in her who deny to forsake the silliness and childishness..
