How to say goodbye to the subway?

The lecher(To know The lecher click on this link) got down from the train after bidding adieu to his women. Little did he know that another person in the train, a 60 year-old woman, was bidding adieu to the subway itself.

He did not notice this bespectacled lady, holding a bouquet of red and white carnations. He did not see the yellow stain on her white sari, which was a residue of the turmeric-rich fish curry she had for lunch. Thus, the lecher got back to his world, leaving her to continue the series of last good-byes on the subway.

“Eight more stations. Another 22 minutes,” she counted.

She hated the subway. She hated the squabbling over seats, lecherous middle-aged men eyeing nubile young women, and the most of all - the x-ray vision of a woman sitting on the opposite seat.  After years of travelling she had concluded that one thing constant in every underground train is a woman seated on the ‘Ladies Seat’, who scans all the females in the vicinity. From the hole in the sandal to the colour of the bindi, nothing escapes the perusing eyes.

“5 more stations, 13 minutes.”

She had been working for 37 years as an accountant in a private company. It was a ‘boring’ job according to her late husband, who had been a renowned sports journalist in his time. Her stomach rumbled, and she was thankful that the sound of wheels masked the sound. The oil-rich farewell lunch, for sure, did not agree well with her. For a moment the discomfort in her belly, took her mind off from the melancholy state that she was in. But, it came back, flooding her with the thought, “What is life after work?”

“Three minutes, one station.”

The train stopped. She got down, took a few steps and then stood still. She would not take the subway from tomorrow, as she had no office to go to. Her work was done.

She saw the digital clock, announce the arrival of the train on the other platform. She dropped her bag and the bouquet of carnations. She saw the light at the end of the tunnel, drew a sharp breath and…

“She does that every night. For the past 4 years, this has been her routine,” said one aged ghost to a new entrant, a young man who had jumped on the tracks earlier that day. “Four years and she has not learned the art of saying goodbye. She hates the subway too much to bid adieu to it,” he said as he extended his arm to pull her back.

Gainor E. Roberts,Carnations and Poodle, Oil on Canvas, 35 x 27, 1977