A sound of screeching woke Meera up abruptly from her sleep. It was the same old signal with the usual evening traffic.
She woke up halfway when her eyes caught sight of the cab's rear-view mirror. She saw those fatigued eyes rocking left to right, waiting for the signal to go green. She could feel the same tiredness in those light-red eyes, yet they shimmered with an untouched purity. It was one of the most beautiful eyes she had seen in a while.
She yawned and looked to her left and then to her right. Everywhere, she found a commotion created by the unbridled mass of vehicles. She saw the time, it was 8:01 pm. Perhaps she was trying to overcome the boredom inherent in the journey back home. Suddenly, her gaze was captured by a young woman waiting at the signal. She was standing just to the left of her cab. She was tirelessly looking to cross the road. Her hands were full, not because of any cash but because she was carrying a bunch of bags in both hands. Meera contemplated that it could be some vegetables or any other household items. Her locks of hair were troubling her due to a slight breeze, but she didn't bother to remove them from her face. Rather, her eyes were constantly waiting for the signal to go green.
Meera went back with a little jerk. The cab moved forward, and along with it, the rolling eyes of the rear-view mirror. Those eyes of the rear-view mirror were no longer in sight of Meera.
She started looking for those eyes, waited for a while, and slowly shifted her gaze to the right side. The lush trees were passing along with her. The view of the open sky and lush trees gave her a sense of tranquility, which was often rare for her to get.
It was an asbestos-roofed small house with hens and goats roaming around. She took out the iron-cast vessel to wash the vegetables. There were some regulars with some irregulars - cucumber and capsicum. She put them gently in a separate brass vessel. She went out, took some firewood that was kept with some locks of fodder, and came inside to prepare the fire for cooking. She took out a long stick and opened a part of the roof that was loosely "stitched". That part of the asbestos could have been broken because of the constant falling of the papaya planted by her landlord. Seema saw the wall clock, which was ticking above the TV at 8:00 pm.
There was a loud horn. Meera, who was resting by lying her head on the window, woke up again. The mesmerizing eyes were again visible in the rear-view mirror. Meera got a tiny smile on her face. She looked at the eyes, which were again rolling left to right, and the redness in the eyes was still visible. She looked at her watch, it was past 8:30 pm. She was simply looking here and there, a bit anxious, yet keeping her composure. She looked down only to find her phone vibrating. She flipped to check the call and attended with a big smile on her face. It was a video call where she could not hide her joy. The eyes in the rear-view mirror were watching her joy, and one could comprehend the pain in those eyes.
It was a short call, though it made her more impatient. "Is this the right?" The eyes of the rear-view mirror asked she said affirmatively, "Yes, you have to take another right at the end."
As Arjun turned the wheel of the cab, a pang of regret struck him - What if he had called out to Seema at the signal and let her into the cab? Seema, on the other hand, was waiting for Arjun while the TV was running a reality show. She, however, was busy calculating the finances that they would need as savings for the little one. She was six months pregnant and was pondering leaving the job the following month. She heard the knock on the door. She folded her diary, put the pen inside, put on her slippers, and went to open the door. Arjun and Seema both smiled at each other. They both started speaking about their day at work. While Seema went to the kitchen to serve food, Arjun moved forward to the hall to pump some water from the water can.
Meera knocked at the door. It was already kept open, and as soon as she entered, her little kid came running to hug her. There were toys all around the hall, with one plate and spoon lying on the floor and another in the hands of her little girl. She was pointing to the TV, which was showing Kung Fu Panda. Mohan got up from the sofa and smiled at her. "She missed you." Meera looked up at him and she understood.
In this era of hustle, Meera and Mohan missed being with each other. They stayed in the same house, yet they were never this far apart. The burden of providing a "well-to-do" life had successfully created a void that screamed, "I miss you." Both Meera and Mohan, within their head, murmured, "I missed you too." Yet, they never said it out loud. Their eyes were filled with pain, grief, and sorrow of losing oneself and one another over the period. Perhaps, their love, though not withered, was overshadowed by the relentless pull of economic stability and the constant strain of chasing dreams. Their gaze at each other got a break when their daughter started climbing the sofa.
"I have a meeting now," Mohan said and went. Meera nodded and started cuddling and playing with her kid. She fed her, made her sleep, arranged the house, cleaned the kitchen, and finally, sat down to write her journal. It was the same room where her daughter Mimi was sleeping. She put on her spectacles and started thinking, "What shall I write?"
Mohan was still in a meeting, and it was already 11:30 pm. He was still waiting for his day to be over. With his headphones on, he grabbed some food from the kitchen and ran to his desk. Meera started writing about the weary eyes that she saw today and reflected upon with her own eyes. She could relate to those longing, fatigued eyes that were seeking a remedy. A remedy in the form of comfort, love, and peace. She was just about to write her thoughts down when she received an email from her office. She opened her laptop and started working without any complaints.
Mohan finished his meeting and so as his dinner. He came to the hall to watch TV. Meera came to the kitchen, which was adjacent to the hall. "Meera, let’s watch a movie?"
"I can't. I have to get up early to go to the office."
"Just half an hour." Mohan warmly insisted.
Meera, without any resistance, sat with Mohan to watch, only then did they hear their daughter's cry. They both looked at each other and laughed. It was ephemeral yet pleasing. She went to sleep with her little one. He started watching the movie alone, though scrolling through his phone. It certainly was a way to avoid his loneliness.
She remembered the comfort of Mohan's arms, which were no longer. Her eyes looked to the other side of the bed, dreaming of him there, and with slightly red, teary, and sorrowful eyes, she slept. Mohan remembered the days when they both watched movies together, lying on each other's shoulders. He felt the grave pain of loneliness. Missing her, he came to bed only to find out that both his worlds had already slept.
Arjun was talking with Seema on the bed when he received a ping. It was 1:00 AM, time for his night shift. He needed to go to the airport to drop someone off. Both Seema and Arjun saw each other with longing in their eyes. He wore his dress and headed to the office to get the car. Seema closed the door with tears in her eyes, wondering if there is a world where time is tied to loved ones, and not to the grind of careers, responsibilities, and obligations.
"Eyes reflect what remains in our head and heart, things that we choose to forbid from being spoken out loud, left only to be felt deeply."