She sits right there
Opposite me...in the local train
lost in the wonderful world of characters and sentences
gratitude on her face
the wind plays its dirty dance
plays with strands of her hair
flips the pages beyond what she's reading
those unnecessary strands over her face
no time to brush them away
she walks in the world
unaware of the present hustle and bustle
sometimes in the world of 'The Caucasian Chalk circle'
Some times ' The Complete adventures of Feluda'
Archer...Potter...Ludlum
its the world of a commuting bookworm
where the reader lies free
sometimes its someone else
sometimes its me
To the many women I encounter in the train everyday ..who choose to be lost in the world of books and authors..and remind me that in chaos there can be serene silence ...
A book is the only place in which you can examine a fragile thought without breaking it, or explore an explosive idea without fear it will go off in your face. It is one of the few havens remaining where a man's mind can get both provocation and privacy. ~Edward P. Morgan
