A twinkle, A sparkle – It all tells a story

I walk in a sea of people everyday… Pushing, shoving, all the while to be the first. Instead of pushing them by and egging them ahead, have you ever taken a closer look at them? Have you looked into their eyes? Everyone has a story to tell, and it’s all written in their eyes. This is a collection from days when I chose to see their story as it slowly flashed before their eyes
I noticed the lady who looked at a new day with dread and fatigue. Her eyes were heavy; eyelids fighting to stay open; black circles threatening to take over. Her age was catching up to her and she could no longer pull off a 9 to 5 day along with increasing family demands. Her kids needed breakfast on the table, tiffin boxes packed and ready to go. Her husband needed a packed lunch, and a smile on her face as he kissed her goodbye. She managed to muster a smile everyday, but her eyes told a different story.


While I was getting off the rickshaw one day, a girl with a jump in her step drew my attention with her bright coloured clothes. The heat of the summer sun couldn’t dampen her spirits one bit. Her fitting red shirt tried to contain her excitement, but it came out of her eyes. Unlike many who dread it, she looked toward the station with hope. It took me back to my first day in the city – full of hope, excitement and energy. In silence I hoped the city would treat her better. Her ringing phone snapped me out of my reverie. Her conversation confirmed my thoughts – it was the first day of a new job. She talked excitedly of her expectations, and it was clear then – her eyes echoed her feelings, and fluttered as quickly as her heart was beating.

Late in the evening one day, as a train passed by, I noticed a man standing in an almost empty compartment in silence. He did not move as the train jerked and left the station; he stood still, hand holding the handle on top, as if clutching on to it for dear life. His almost bloodshot eyes echoed angry words his boss had yelled at him that day. From looking at him, you knew the weight of his job was taking a toll on him. His eyes, almost half closed, showed the same signs of weariness.
On days when I’m late to work, I’m normally busy tapping away at my phone, trying to get a little bit of work done to make up for my tardiness. On one such day, when the train was blissfully empty, I chose to keep the phone away and let music fill my thoughts instead. An urchin boy suddenly caught my eye. He jumped onto the train just as it was pulling out of the station, stood with one leg on the foot board and the other in the air. One look at him and you knew he was mischievous; so mischievous that his eyes could no longer contain it in them, and allowed it to flow right through his being. The troubles of his life seem non-existent – his eyes only speak of pure happiness, as they flutter in the wind, and glisten as the sunshine bounces of it.
Late one evening, the conversation between two young friends caught my attention. They were standing near the exit, clutching the train for support. What was the hot topic? Marriage, well arranged marriage actually. One had already started getting proposals – her mother was talking to her friend’s son-in-law’s friend’s parents and all other such complicated connections. Neither of them seemed against the idea, but were they ready for it? While they talked and giggled with a maturity not even close to what’s needed in a marriage, her feelings were more than clear in her eyes. What was most prominent were the rays of innocence that flooded her eyes – she wasn’t ready for marriage, and she was too scared to say it herself.
While I was in the rickshaw one day, one my way back from work, a pair of eyes caught my attention. We locked gazes and I almost heard her talk. Through her eyes, she spoke of past loves, personal troubles, professional hurdles and I knew she craved for an escape. After what seemed like several minutes, a horn blared and we lost eye contact. I looked back in her direction in the hope of learning more about her, to help her, but all I saw was a mirror and those familiar eyes staring back.

Even if your words are a lie, your eyes always tell the truth ~Libby Saumur.


3 thoughts on “A twinkle, A sparkle – It all tells a story

  1. Beautiful. Especially the last paragraph. And it’s beautiful in that way where everyone in this city is going to be able to identify with it (unfortunately for most) in some way or another. And it’s going to make a lot of people in our age bracket (yes, our) feel a lot less like the only people struggling to come to terms with everything not being as hunky dory as our childhood previews into adulthood may have suggested.

  2. Beautiful post, Faye! Loved reading it. 🙂 Very well written.

    Strangely, I did a post on almost similar lines a few days ago (on observing people and making up stories about them): http://thegalnxtdoor.wordpress.com/2012/05/14/of-soul-authors-and-dreams/

    I happened to read about the very same thing on another friend’s blog: http://pepperedthoughts.wordpress.com/2012/05/15/stories-behind-faces/

    I wrote the post after reading about the same thing in Frances Mayes’s Bella Tuscany.

    A sign maybe? This topic is turning up in my life a bit too often. 🙂

    1. I’m glad there are still people who stop to notice things every now and then.. Bombay seems to be filled with people who are too busy rushing everywhere to bother about anything else.

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