Voyeurism Of The Strangest Kind

I looked at him, distant and disinterested, for his eyes looked through me, to something I couldn't understand, for he must be in between a dream sequence, and his earphones must have been playing a song to match his mood. Disinterested because, he did not even care enough to leave me a second glance, irrespective of the fact that I was, after all, observing him, with hopeful eyes.
He looked like what any other normal coming-of-age-man would. His face carried with itself marks of what proved that he had successfully been through about two decades of his life, maybe a year or two less, because there still were a few about to come, and one that would stay for a week or two.

I was with a friend, and in a world of our very own. But you know that thing about life? Some things come to leave an impression so deep on our minds, that we cannot, forcefully or naturally let them go .

And then a man, the kind you'd give up your seat for, came .
We were about to get up, for chivalry is one thing thats long lost in Indian men.
But then, How could something we had forseen, happen in this case?
If I am writing about it, there has to be a twist.
There definitely was a twist. He stood up, and offered his seat in the most graceful mannerism I had seen ever since I had been displaced from my hometown.

Minutes must have had passed, I looked at him and then once or twice I caught his eyes, and I looked away with a guilt, so unexplainable but yet so prominent.

It was the strangest kind of Voyeurism. Looking at him fed my soul of a kind of satisfaction that many a poets romance about.

But its disrespectful to intrude someone's comfort zone that way. I speak this both for my case and his. I wasnt being a sport by observing his tiniest moves and he wasnt being of any help by keeping me from thinking about anything productive.

So I looked at my friend, and resumed what I had given up in the course of my thoughts.

You know, we're of that kind. Dancing. Singing. Laughing. And not giving a shit about what anyone else would have to say.
This isnt anything new. A day with us and you'll know what I mean.
What was strange was the kind of interest with which he observed, the glances he stole, which were a little bit of surprise and mostly of amusement.
His expressions could be read plain and simple, like a nursery rhyme,  some thing like ringa ringa roses.

And we were about to change our metros, he had to compliment us on what we were.
I would have taken it as an insult otherwise, because seldom have people meant that in the fair way . But there was something about the way his crisp voice wrapped the words with a strange amount of excitement.
The kind that sets your pulse racing. It did .

But thats it. You don't fall in love with strangers. I did not.
Some people are meant to be just a breeze, while only one will be the storm that shall displace you in the most spectacular way possible, leaving you organized, messed up, and sorted.
I await that storm.