I write about the blank spaces between relationships.
The cold winter wind blew in hushed tones through the barricaded train window near which the 35 year old woman sat huddled in a brown shawl. Small wisps of snow had settled on her black hair which appeared a bit frizzy in this strong weather.
This was a nearly empty compartment given the time of the year when not many opted for a visit to a hill station and as this late November train sped past quaint Indian villages in the extreme north of the country well past dusk.. Tania drifted off to a dreamless sleep.
She had been deciding upon this trip for a few months now and something or the other had kept delaying it. A trip that had been planned for early September when the apple orchards were laden with fruit had stretched into gloomy November when most of the valley began preparations for a harsh winter ahead.
The train screeched to a halt at a lesser known station and a tall heavily built man clad in a thick overcoat entered her compartment. He brought a gush of very cold air with him that Tania felt harshly despite the half open window. His face was partially covered by a muffler but she could see his eyes. Thick tufts of dripping blackish hair fell over his forehead. He was carrying a small dark brown handbag that he placed overhead before taking a seat exactly opposite to her.