the photographer...and the maiden...

The seat upon which he was sitting
In the bus, was not by the window...
And crowded as the tin box on wheels was...
Claustrophobia was setting in gradually upon him...
Added to the discomfort of being herded with a lot of people in a box...
That jumped up and down the potholed road which resembled a mountain terrain almost...
He was feeling insecure-
For his camera was there
In a leather bag on his lap and the filthy crowd was pressing on to it and him...
Darn!
He mumbled...
Irritation boiling up within...like a steam pressure cooker getting ready to send a strong whistle...
Steaming out...

Just then...
He noticed a part of a hand clinging onto the hand rails overhead...
In the midst of hands of dark pallor...
He noticed the hand...feminine...with different colored bangles on it...swinging in the jarring movement of the tin-box on wheels...
The hand...
Feminine...soft...with a few beads of sweat perhaps...glistening...
He slowly unpacked his camera...from the leather bag...
Opened the lens cover...
Held his breath...steady...
Put his legs tight against the back of the seat upfront...sort of fixing his posture...
And adjusted the focal length...
Bingo!
The soft, pale hand in the midst of dark ones...against the blue ceiling of the bus looked great on the display!
He pressed the button...putting the flash off...
He pressed again...
After the shoot...
He got busy with the display...scrutinising every bit of the shots...thinking of cropping one...
Meanwhile the owner of the hand, a teenaged girl with sharp exterior...
Came and sat beside him...
Looking at him...all the way...
Curious...surprised...perhaps-
For she had noticed, like other passengers how the man took pictures of the ceiling of the bus!
He didn't perceive all these...
He didn't notice that the seat by the window was getting vacant and someone moving in...
He was looking at the digital display of his camera;



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