Nine Meals Away

Strange.

I decided to eat supper at the hotel and leave. The hotel was crowded. All tables were occupied. I could manage to sit alone at a table for two. I was almost done eating when a girl approached the table and asked, ‘Do you mind if I sit here?’ pointing at the chair opposite to me. I realised she was there for the take-away.

‘Sure, it’s all yours.’ I stood up and walked away to wash my hands.           

I returned to check the bill. She looked thoughtfully for a moment and said ‘So, you are not much of a celebrating kind?’
‘What makes you say so?’ I felt a little bit awkward, at my situation. Am I so obvious? I thought.
‘You ordered Roti and Dal Fry, on a New Year Eve!’ she exclaimed. I paid the bill in cash and was waiting for the waiter to bring me the change.
‘Why can’t you assume that I am a guy of simple tastes?’ I shoved the change into my pockets, leaving a ten rupee note.
‘Come on, at least you would have ordered sweets. This place is famous for sweets.’ She sounded intrigued. I was impressed but I have no intention to admit.
‘I don’t like sweets’, I snapped, took my helmet and left. I still remember the look on her face. It is not a shell-shocked expression. She is not surprised either. But her glance was, may be curious? I don’t ask. I don’t say. Staying mysterious is the trick. In fact, she is right, I am not in celebration mood. All days are the same—Eat, Drink and Sleep.
I walked back and said, ‘Enough of this Sherlock-ian rhapsody,’ intending to end the conversation on a lighter note, ‘Happy New Year!!’ I added.
‘Err... Happy New Year!’ she laughed. I managed a wry smile in acknowledgment and left.

Stranger.

I came out of the office building; tired, exhausted and craving for the legal drug caffeine. I turned around to see who that familiar voice was. She was talking on her mobile phone, sounded irritated and worried. I waited five feet away from her, making a conscious attempt to not intrude. She ended the phone call in few seconds. She was surprised to find me there, but she seemed upset after the phone call.
We started walking towards the gate. ‘So, you work in IT?’ I asked. That is the best I could come up with avoiding climate, address and regular pleasantries pitfalls. 

She barely nodded and asked ‘Interview?’ The file in my hand gave me away. I could sense some discomfort in the way things changed. Is that because of the phone call? I don’t ask. Not that I don’t care but let her tell, I thought. I, somehow, felt comfortable enough to invite her for a coffee. She refused the offer smoothly and I moved on to get a cup of coffee.

For a reason, I am disturbed by the Nirbhaya case, 2012 Delhi Rape Incident. I wondered, ‘Where is this mankind leading?’ Why aren’t laws as tough as in Arab countries? Giving Freedom of life—Is it a mistake? I was very much irritated and thought ‘What are the random acts of kindness I ever did in my life? I never even donated blood.’ My thoughts returned to the incident. What is the psychology of the people who, deliberately, did the insane act? I wondered if people really get harassed in their regular lives. Forget rape. I have read incidents where girls are threatened in the name of love. How frequent are these gender crimes? I laughed at the pace my thoughts are rushing to get to the conclusion of human race based on incidents that happened. I was depressed that the girl’s life is lost in all this. I am not talking about life—like everyday routine, her studies or how society would have treated her return. How her identity has been hidden all these days? If harassment is one side of the coin, the way society treats the victims is another. Idiotic society!!! They protest and they ogle. They watch but never save. They stand at the circumference but never walk to the centre of the circle. It’s the girl who is facing the consequences. Generally, after realising the cruelty on the victim, the society should face the consequences. That’s the only way to avoid these incidents from happening again. Where is all this going? Don’t call that incident a rape case. The case is already solved only the justice is delayed. I wish it’s not denied. Society is a fool’s predicament. I would never be a part of it. I swore to myself.

I returned to the bus stop holding a cup of coffee in my hand.
‘So what’s Dr. Watson so worried about?’ she smiled with an enquiring look on her face.
‘So you are Holmes, The consulting detective?’ I grinned.

‘The only one in the world-- I invented the job’, she added laughing.
She impressed me. What a radiant glow on her lovely face! I was mesmerised. Scratch off the word lovely. It sounds flirtatious. She is more synchronous to Nature.
I remembered my first trek. I looked at the steep valley before me. Not a single leaf moved but I felt the shiver. I could hear water flowing invisibly. Green silence—I called it. It’s a forest. Thinking of the randomness of the trees, the leaf arrangement is so chaotic, yet well structured. I enjoyed the evolution of human being in the presence of trees. I felt that bliss in her presence. She is magnificent—sense of humour coupled with beauty.

I joined the laughter. I told her about the incident that is bothering me. Since there is no mystery to solve, we were discussing out views on it. I could not stop blaming humanity for the act, the after-act and the way they left the victims unattended at the deserted scene.
‘Why so much hatred?’ she winced.

‘Come on, there is something called reality check. We live by the world where gender crimes still happen?’ I snorted, crushing the paper cup in my hand.
‘I have bitter experiences too’, she added. She smiled elusively; she said how a guy threatened her to kill and intimidated to die if she does not love back-- how she had to re-locate to her uncle’s place and stay away from her parents for around 18 months. After eighteen months things took a different turn. She told how this fellow stalked her home for three days and how he spread rumours on her, the days when her mom beat her, the days when her eyes were filled with tears.
‘Wait’, I said, ‘All these incidents happened when you were in college?’
‘Yes’, she said, wondering how it really matters.

I was speechless. I have not talked to this girl for more than 18 minutes and behind her smile there is a story-- too horrific experiences at such a tender age. I was playing video games at the age of 20. I used to watch movies with friends and sleep sound for 8 hours a day. On a pathetic weekend, I would attempt to reproduce a mathematical proof, read Ayn Rand and debate on her philosophy with friends, when she is being intimidated with death and crap love.
I was about to add Life is so unfair to you. But my heart mouthed different words. ‘You are a brave girl. I respect you.’ I admired my heart for the thought.

‘Of all the people you ask me ‘Why the hatred?’. I could not control the smile on my face. ‘Did you ever wonder why World War II happened even after World War I?’ I questioned her sincerely.

‘People are idiots!’ she shook her head in disagreement, cheering at my happiness.

How come she has so much hope towards Life? Why am I filled with so much hatred towards the World? Life is a bitch. I thought. We parted for the day. Everybody have their own lives to carry on with.
 

Strangest.

I am a freelance writer. I was sitting in the Irani cafe at the junction. No matter how much fuss is going on the roads, I was always lucky to get a seat in the corner. I sat there, editing the notes I wrote the previous day. That Indo-American from Harvard University, who tried to get to the hall of fame by others work, prompted me to write the article.

I caught a familiar figure on the other side of the road, trying to figure out if I am who she thinks I am. She waved her hand at me. I took a final drag, threw the cigarette and picked up my papers and waved her back. I gestured her to wait, paid the bill and crossed the road towards her.

‘Heya! What a surprise!’ I was astonished to see her again. She grabbed the papers in my hand and started skimming through the article.

‘Plagiarism in Literature? Huh!’ she smiled at the title of the article.

 If reading William Shakespeare or Ernest Hemingway, is the idea; I would go with reading their works and understand them rather than reading your copies of their versions. The struggle in understanding them is definitely worth...... Don’t you , Copycats, dare call it influence or... Q.R. Markham’s... James Bond was pulled off the shelves. Kavya Viswanathan’s How Opal Mehta... Somehow, few lucky artists would go unnoticed after owning the concept... Likewise, JKR got away ripping off... The next time, you decide to rip off some originality, screw...

‘Ah, the cynicism! Why so much contempt towards everyone?’ she frowned. ‘Do you write for a newspaper? What magazine do you get this published at?’ she groaned with a half-smile.

‘I write often. If publishers reject my work, I have a blog to post on—quite a decent following there.’ I said. I live on an alias. Not that I invite trouble by freaking out conspiracies and controversies, I just like the John-Doe-like anonymity. ‘Do you mind another coffee?’ I asked, pointing at the cafe on the other side of the road.

‘Not here. Let’s go to the Cafe Coffee Day at the end of this road. Care for a walk?’ she proposed.

‘Do you mind if I smoke?’ I asked. ‘Yes, It stinks’, she replied with a frown on her face. I am glad to talk to her. No matter how much we conflicted with our opinions, we were pretty much comfortable in blurting out whatever comes to our mind. We discussed art, music, culture and poetry on our way to the coffee shop.

‘I din’t expect you to meet again. What do you do?’ she asked ordering two cups of regular cappuccinos. I am a freelance programmer. I write, I trek and I work for an NGO. I dint tell her any of these.

‘Life is full of coincidences, right? Meeting third time is a strange coincidence. I am pretty much amused too.’ I averted the topic and continued. ‘After yesterday’s incidents, you made me think. No matter how much the world has changed and people turned materialistic. In fact, materialism is an interesting idea. It’s detachment to....’

She interrupted, ‘It’s not how you treat this world right. You have such a crooked view on the world. Why?’ I know that I left her with many open ended questions. I know her life to an extent and she knows my views on many subjects. We never delved into each other’s personal lives. I never questioned what she does for a living, what her name is or where she lives. In fact, I am selfish.

‘With that idiot’s disappearance, is everything fine since then? Why don’t you attend the phone?’ I insisted, mixing sugar with a spoon.

‘For the past few days, I am bothered with prank calls. Each time different numbers and that guy speak with different accents. All calls are abusive and shit talk. I never heard those abuses before.’I could hear faint tremble in her voice. ‘Police complaint?’ I said. How does a girl feel to have her day kicked off in such a poor manner?

She sighed, ‘After the three days stalking incident, I realised the only way to handle him is talk him out of it’, and added, ‘I worked liked his psychologist, reasoned with him the importance of his career, how his parents mattered and how his younger brother needs his support.’

She was more serious than funny when she talked about this. I was amazed at the poise and confidence she posed. Incredibly beautiful! The guy had some sense and she knew it. ‘Miss Holmes, you are awesome. I respect you more.’ I smiled with reverence.

She laughed smoothly, ‘Why don’t you ask me my name? We know each other well enough to invite over for a coffee. By the way, I am Kr..’.
‘Stop it!!’ I interrupted rudely. ‘I always thought that we were past those pleasantries.’ I shook my head. ‘Our first meet was nothing. Second was coincidence. Third is weird. Let’s end this from being weirder.’ My heart was urging to find out her name and keep in touch with her. I shut it out thinking ‘What is Heart? It’s non-existent entity. Listen to your brain.’ My brain knows me the best. My insides hurt. The idea of third meet being the last hurts more. I know Life is journey of meeting strangers, but I never thought I would speak so much with this girl.

Hiding the tremor in my voice, I managed to add, ‘Err.. No, ask me nothing! I don’t believe in any kind of relationships. They never interested me anyway. I can’t manage relationships just for the sake of it.’

‘Miss Holmes, from this close’, I enacted a two finger distance with my thumb and index finger, ‘Every person is filth. Everyone is an opportunist. I don’t mind people being opportunists; I just can’t stand the idea of me feigning a smile and walk towards them’. I symbolised her for hope even if she treated me equivalent to hate. I don’t want names, addresses and details.

‘Why don’t you believe there are people like you out there? Are you an opportunist as well?’ she said calmly as if she read my mind.

‘You are taking it the wrong way. I don’t mean it as a negative quality’,  I continued.

‘God damn cynic!!!’ she screamed and stood up. I could understand her anger.

‘Pay the bill. I would never come here to pay 60 bucks for a coffee. Not here.’ I snorted. She smiled at my quick wit. She sat down which confirmed my thought that our brains are in sync.

‘Miss Holmes, Every man is nine meals away from crime, suicide or death’, I added calmly, ‘Eduardo Saverin, a journalist. He said it in ‘70s. Even 2011 London riots prove it. First-World-Country, like London, could never think its stores would be emptied in three days. Three God damn days! People were fighting on the roads. It was not a natural calamity or aliens, Miss Holmes. Remember the reasons behind those riots. Idiots!’, I controlled my disgust.

‘Let’s be friends. We can stay connected and be friends.’ She said with a grim look. She knows that I would never agree. I looked straight into her eyes and said, ‘Love and friendship are very profound words. They mean nothing to me today. Don’t you think those two words are most exploited and over-abused? So beautiful, an expression, turned into clichés!!’ I cursed.

I idolised her for hope. I just wanted to admire her and depart today in that same manner.

“Why do you inflict pain on yourself? Do you smoke for the same reason? To suffer? What from?” She questioned. I had loads to tell but we never ventured into each other’s zones. I wanted to tell her my past but not a word came out. I stood up extended my hand.

‘World War III is most talked about. But it never happened and it never will’, She took her hand bag, a last look into my eyes and left. I prayed that she should not turn around—she would have found layer of water on my eyes. Everything is blurred out.

She did not look back because her eyes were flooding with tears. We walked away from each other. I liked her for a reason. I am impressed with her act of not advising me to positive thinking, the trash of all time. May be, I think in negative terms. But I am not killing myself. I bleed negativity. It gives me clarity of thoughts. It eases me. No matter how much she hated my opinions, her inductive reasoning impressed me. She laughs hard with deep worries down her throat. That is the reason; I am keen in knowing her than her name. Bear with me, Human mind is funny. With those two letters she gave away, I guessed her name should be Kriti or Kritika. ‘Kriti’ I repeated, contemplating the meaning-- She truly is a marvellous work of art.

Panic

"Writing, when properly managed, is but a different name for conversation."    -Laurence Sterne, novelist

First things first...

You panic when things do not go your way. You are hit; when you can't make a move. Sometimes, it's hard to hold on to the composure, you think you have. It, somehow, happened I can't decide how the events gonna turn until dawn. 

It's hard to be practical, enduring pain and it's quite illogical to get tensed on things you can't control. Oxymoronic, huh! It's way too easy to cry. It's hard to not show your feelings. Why do I want a miracle when I donot not believe in Him? Am I crazy?

What Happened?

It's time I got to be quiet, calm and hold my poise. I could not afford losing her. It's already six hours since she disappeared. She should be picking up my mom from the station at 0200 hrs. Where did she go? I remember texting last night to remind her to start early. Then I crawled under the sheets. It's 0800 hrs. now and my sister did not come to the station.

As she said, she would have started in a cab, to the railway station, at 0100 hours. Where is she now? I cursed myself for choosing such a bad timing, that my mom reached at 0200 hrs. I could not sleep any longer. Morning coffee seemed bland for the first time ever. I got myself together and began weighing my options. My mom visited me and started to my sister's place previous evening. She wanted to get back to my dad's in two days.

God Damn! I stared at my mobile phone. The auto redial has been ringing my sister's number for half an hour. Why doesn't anyone pick it up?

Did she take the cab? Did she make it to the station? Why the hell is the mobile left unanswered? I hoped something would happen and I would receive a call from my mom that everything is alright. I kneeled in front of God to ask him to protect her. Suddenly, a flash of thoughts reeled at back of my mind....

What’s My Problem?

I am not a kind of guy who rush to temple as soon as exam season begins. I do not go to God asking him to get me a promotion in exchange for tonsure. But I do remember Him every day when I climb the terrace to look at the life around me. That’s my way of paying tribute to Him.

You know what my problem is! I am sick of being nice. I don’t believe in Him. I have got some ego issues with the creator (Yeah! You read it right.. I, truly, meant E-G-O). There seems to be times in my childhood when I used to pray to Him every morning. Now, call it my age or my thoughts, I am sick of people worshipping him so blindly.

My foot! I hate when someone opens his list of wishes in front of Him. It’s not the man I am worried of. He is foolish since his birth. The main problem is with the belief. I don’t believe in your so-called feeling of hope. You call it Luck and I call it Yuck. In fact, I am not trying to be wise or showcase my intellectual skills.

Because I gotta state this problem, I will state it this way. Everything is relative. He is neither a savior nor a saboteur. I prefer living close to reality. Look at the mockery around the world. One badass pours lakhs of rupees in the 'hundi' of Lord Venkateswara and feels happy that all his sins are cleansed. Another exotic example. People go to Ganges to take a dip and cleanse all the sins they made. (Oh! Such an easy way to escape). People want to change their fate by poojas and other rituals. Note that I am not calling the rituals stupid. I am calling the 'man' stupid.

Oh, Yes! I am a Prick..

If your life is in trouble, it should be saved by you and never by God. Don’t fool around thinking that someone else comes to pull you out of trouble. Never believe in God. (Confessions of cynicist and agnostic). Even the Luck factor is relative. Let me give you an example. Let's say you got a job in Infosys (India's one of top five consultancies) in the period of recession, how do you feel? Happy, of course. In fact, I would throw a treat as well. The point is, it does not mean God helped you in recession. Let me extend the example. You got a friend who is as talented as you. He is not placed in Infosys. What if he got into Google? Is he unlucky? Or what if he gets a better salary package?  This is what I mean when I say “Everything is relative”.

I don’t mean to dishonor God. But I meant to leave him alone. I don’t want to be an escapist—attributing everything to him, be it success or failure. He can never help. One thing..

You always have the chance to change the course of events

(Sometimes, even after losing the game). The only thing man needs is will to believe in self. I am such a guy.

I respect His creation. I revere Him for his remarkable creations— life and brain. He is impeccable. That’s it! Get inspired from Him; not depend on Him.

So, now when my sister disappeared, I asked Him to protect her. I am pretty sure, he can’t help. I just seemed to be illogical. (Don’t bring up this shit in order to convince people. They already took enough from God. They can never agree upon this.)

This is how it all ended..

My mobile began ringing and I was surprised to see the number. It's from my sister's mobile. I took the call and kept it close to my ear. She was laughing saying that she and my mom were playing a prank at me. I was relieved at that moment. Thank God for the news. She is alright. Damn, I am happy.

I was nearly collapsing. I cut the phone, called my dad and said that she reached the house and hung up. From then, for two weeks, I ignored calls from my mom and sister. I felt that it is the best way I can get the heat off me. I hated the fact though. That they, indeliberately, proved that I would go to God when I feel that they are suffering.

Epilogue

My panic is not about her safety or God. This is all about being me. Does my stance change after this? No. Do you think I ‘m pretending all the way that I don’t believe in Him?

In fact, don’t conclude that I just went to God and then kept silent hoping that He would help. I started off to my sister’s place in my car which is 300 miles away from where I live. I got the call from her when I was halfway. I turned back to my place. I did my efforts to contact the nearby police station to find out anything about missing persons. This is what I meant when I said weighing options. I drove to the nearby store on the highway and bought a pack of Marlboro, smoking again after four years with an arrogant smile on my face.

Coward with PRUDENCE

Damn, I hate surprises.I always believe in the scope of tragedy in life. Life itself is bloody tragic in evey sense.

Even Success is a tragedy. Winning, the expense of someone else's failure.

Call me a damn loser. It doesn't bother me. To me, Cowardice is also a virtue when accompanied by prudence. Things are likely to happen when you least expected them to be. To begin with, I love destiny for letting me meet her five years back..Ashwitha .. my soulmate.
When Sravya(my daughter) is four years old, I went to pick her up at the school. Even Aswitha(my wife) teaches in the same school. I was on the other side of the road watching them come to the car.Aswitha was holding Sravya's hand and the kid was talking wildly about her happenings at school. In the other hand, Ashwitha was holding the kid's bag. They crossed the place carefully and Sravya hugged me and started repeating the same sequence of events she told her mom. This happened a month back.

Yesterday, I went to pick her up from the same school. Times change.. I m waiting at the same place in the same car. The school bell rang. Children poured out onto the road. I even could see Sravya coming out of school and carefully crossing the road holding her hand. The only difference is that.. She stopped talking as before and that hand she was holding to is not her mom's.
I feel a glitch of gloom on her face. Am I the guilty for faded smiles. She lost her mom a week ago. I lost my soul at that precise moment.

Someone said "Wound abates with time". That's true. But my pain is doubled, tripled and quadrupled since last week. It's burning me as a whole. Damn it!
We reached home and all over the way back she didn't speak a single word. I made dinner. Egg, Macaroni with roti and curd rice. Sravya watched TV for sometime, sat with me in the kitchen while I was preparing dinner. After dinner, she slept on the couch in the living room.
I went out to the balcony, lit a cigarette and it even increased my misery of pain. I stubbed out the cigarette and cursed myself remembering the day, resulting in her death.

I unnecessarily tried to save a life just to make things worse. That day I found a guy beaten badly--gasping for breath. I hurried towards him supported him to my chest. I grabbed my bag for water bottle. He took in two gulps. I called for an ambulance. It was weird to see this guiltless people to circle this blood puddle watching as if some TV show is turned on. Gawd.. Bloody.. I m not an altruist. I wont put myself into misery sucking beneath people's cause but I 'm human. My birth right is to be humane, right?
He was taken to hospital and I filed a case on Kohre, considered to be the most notorious and vilest name in Mumbai. Who cares, justice must be done, at any cost.Ain't it?

No one cared about justice instead my girl got killed in the act of vengeance. Being a social animal, I acted brave to save a life. Being a husband, I always acted brave enough. Being brave turned out to be foolish. On the day of our wedding, we swore to die in each other's hands.
Being brave is a foolish virtue. I decided on not to fail as a father. So, don't you agree cowardice is a bold enough when acted with prudence?

P.S. I decided upon writing a smaller posts. So I drafted it repeatedly omitting ones which I considered to be additional details.

ACCOST

Even after ten years... I remember the day, I saw her. It is when I was waiting for 27D route bus at the terminal. It's 10 minutes to 7 in the evening... I was off to meet my uncle, living in the outskirts of the city. I just caught a glimpse of her getting into the bus. Suddenly I felt as if, some thunderbolt hit me on that gloomy windy evening. I remember each word I spoke to her, every second I spent with her that evening...
06:55 pm
The best thing about Saturday evenings is people, work round-the-clock on the weekdays, either like lying back lazily on the couch and stick to the TV screens and party-goers indulge in the hustle-bustle of this metropolitan city.
The bus wasn't crowded but there wasn't enough space to accommodate all the commuters.. I was foot-boarding with iPod playing my favorite playlist... Most of the crowd got down at the railway station. I found a window seat and made myself comfortable for the last couple of hours in that boring journey. The bus was empty except for me, her and couple others..  Apparently, the driver is in hurry to get off his duty. The conductor was busy filling the details in some form(a daily routine, I guess) while an old man sitting nearby him, was complaining the way his day had been.. 
09:15 pm
I 'm not a nosy kinda guy to peek into other's conversations. I just kept to myself reading John Grisham's non-fiction and listening to soft music in my iPod. I got down at the bus stop stuffing the book into duffel bag. That is my favorite place in B'lore. Suddenly a cool breeze splashed my face. I turned off the iPod and started feeling the surroundings.
I was thinking of the excited conversations with the nature, I always have on the Saturday nights. I walk four miles down the road. No transportation, at this time of the night. I love, not being interrupted on these soulful nights.

The bus went away and I now see the four-lane majestic road lighted in neon street lights... it's completely empty except for the old trees on either side.  There was a sudden screech and I saw a girl getting down yards away from the bus stop. The girl got down and I was dumbfound(a sardonic smile on my face)..
She came hurriedly to me dragging along a heavy suitcase ands showed me a piece of paper. She was in a blue jeans and T-Shirt saying "I 'm just out of hell!!"
What an irony!! She looks like an angel... Her brown eyes were filled with energy and showing enthusiasm. Her hair was left loose in a ponytail. I dint notice her much in the bus. Hmm! She is gorgeous.

She was in a hurry and asked if I knew the address. I nodded and pointed that direction.It was already dark then; she asked if I would accompany her. I shrugged as if I had no problem going with her. Even I was going the same way.
I wanted to open up a conversation but don't know how. I already said, I 'm not an introvert but I 'm neither nosy to peek into other's life curiously...She caught my curt glances and as we walked she said, that her parents moved in a week ago and it's her first visit home. She was doing her Engineering at Chennai. Her parents even warned to come soon in the daylight, but the train got late and finally she ended up there, at ten p.m., with a switched-off mobile, in a deserted road with me.
After walking for about few yards, I showed her a telephone booth among those quarters. It's closed but I knew the guy working over there. So he let her use the phone. She called up her home. I never called home and spoke with my people. Know why?
10:28 pm
I love this neon-lit road for the majesty and freedom it gives me to smoke. I took out a cigarette from the pack and leaned against a tree. I took out my zippo and lit the cigarette between my lips. I took a long puff of smoke into my lungs, exhaling a cloud of smoke. I began to lose into my thoughts when she was finished. She gave a tired smile and said "3rd cross". It's about two miles to go. I stubbed the cigarette on the road and helped her carry the luggage.
My mind was bursting with ideas flowing in and out of my brain, but never slipped the tongue. I already told you, I 'm not an introvert but I 'm  rather against intruding into her life and her into my life, as well.
I looked at her intently.. In the darkest hour, she looked like an angel. Her walk was like she is gliding in the heaven. She cut off my gaze and broke the silence talking about the hot weather in Chennai. It started breezing a little hard. She asked what I do? Where am I from? I din't reply as usual. I wanted to speak but... I told you.. I hate intruding and being intruded.. 
11:22 pm
It turned so cold that I can see the smoke in front of my face, while exhaling. She was shivering cold so she took out a sweater from the bag and wore on her T-shirt. She looked at me and asked if I 'm not feeling cold. I smiled and lit a cigarette throwing away the empty pack. I stuffed my hands into my jacket pockets. She smiled sweetly. What a gorgeous smile!! We started walking again... just two blocks away. I could see someone waiting at end of the road. I gave back her bag and smiled sadly.
11:46 pm
I removed my glasses and swiped with my handkerchief. I put them back again to have a clear view at her. She smiled at me and thanked me for coming along. She asked where my house is.. I pointed along the north and shook her hand. I wish her very good luck for her life. She was walking towards the house dragging the bag... She turned back and muttered something I couldnot hear. I think she found out... I dunno...I looked back again but,she disappeared into this myriad of buzzing worlds....
11:58 pm
Do you think I ever spoke to her? Nah..I never spoke, since birth...
Yes, you heard it, right? I never spoke.... I have been longing to speak; but something is tugging so hard that I never spoke and I remember every word I spoke with her, in silence.. She doesn't even know my voice.. It's just my inner voice which accosted her... I adore her ever since I saw her.

P.S. If there is a level zero(as in Kungfu Panda) in writing, mine is that level... I 'm an amateur... Forgive my bad proof-reading... post ur comments here...