As the alarm buzzed, a dainty hand pushed out of the covers and shut off the irritatingly hyper tune. A minute passed, a head emerged out of those woolen sheets and a sigh followed. With eyes still shut, she moved her body to sit up cross legged. Her opaque eyelids fluttered slightly as she took on the sound of the electric fan swirling above, the bustle of local vendors screaming at the top of their voices and the aroma of her flatmate’s overcooked eggs. Slowly and without any invitation, a million thoughts lined up her mind and she opened those chiseled, worried dark eyes, still hazy from sleep. Through the swaying golden curtains, she looked out of the tiny window into the fog outside and mentally prepared herself for the day ahead. A dream catcher of mostly forgotten dreams was adorned above the curtains and it swayed to the rhythm of the cold air prancing around. A knock on her door signaled the arrival of the maid, ready to wipe clean her already spotless room. With careless abandon, she put her sculpted legs on the floor and dragged herself out of the bed.
She opened the door with a half smile, beckoned the maid in and then shut herself in the bathroom. In the mirror, she saw a tired face, almond shaped eyes covered with shadows. She stared at herself for a minute or two. The not so perfect nose was small in contrast with her full lower lip. Her skin was honey with no hint of blemish and softness. The high cheekbones did nothing drastically beautiful to her face. Jet black hair, which was silky smooth once was bundled on top of her head. It had roughened and thinned through years of fret. She rubbed clean an ordinary face. A face with no distinct quality. A forgettable face.
After a quick shower, she put on a navy blue salwar kameez which had once belonged to her older sister. As she applied kohl in her eyes, the slippery dupata kept having its way. The color she put in her lips was red, which stayed on her for a couple of hours with an intension to be bitten off soon. The hoops dangling in her ears danced as she rushed about the room, picking up several items. With a stack of files in one arm, a huge bag on the shoulder and a sandwich in one hand she made her way through the staircase. Four flights down and an almost finished sandwich later, she realized that she hadn’t locked her room. With self curses streaming down silently, pent up anger on the broken lift and her landlord burning her mind, she climbed up again. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, with her affairs in order, she zoomed out with dupata flying and exceptional determination. As she hailed the autorikshaw, she was oblivious of the eyes which followed her. She was unaware of the quickening of the heartbeats of the few.
She was ruefully ignorant of the enthralling features, that extraordinary face.
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