My silver lining

Burnt toast. No toilet paper. Your boss. His mood. A 20p coin. The M25 motorway. Last night. Weather forecasts. Mondays.

Things that can ruin your day. And with what I recently found out, a suitably sized man standing in front of you inside a crowded underground tube train, who decides to emit highly toxic and nauseous gases. That though doesn't just ruin your day, it makes you lose the will to live.

But, apart from toxic ones, every cloud has a silver lining. And its amazing we as human beings are so much always in hope and expectation and have this innate subconscious desire to look for the good, look for the happy, for the bright side. Except my friend Maggie who's only always looking for discounts.

For me, my silver lining on even the worst of days comes in the most beautiful of packages and never fails me, not a single day. It's always there this package - a sort of glorified mystery that i know nothing of and yet everything about. Yes I'm in love with a girl and she doesnt know about it. The Mona Lisa if you like of my day's canvas.

ML is perfect. She usually catches the 7:42 train to Finsbury Park station, although I'm not really sure where she catches it from. Either ways she's always there when I get on at Warren Street station and is still gracefully seated when I get off at King's Cross. Thats's great because where she works,what she does, who she meets is a mystery to me, which is how I like it between us.

ML is beautiful and like so many genuinely beautiful ones, she doesn't even know it. So much so that it surprises her that someone would find her attractive just going on her looks.

There's a certain soft quality about her that fish-eye's the attention of the whole compartment towards her. She's noticeably tall, about 5'10", because of which gives her a certain willowy slimness to her appearance. She has shiny dark hair that is about shoulder length but enough to show her long slender neck. Her neck moves gracefully with the gyrations of the train giving only a slight bounce to the hair. Her skin is clear, light and luminous. And her eyes. I'm not much of a poet so I cant sing about falling deep down into them in flowery language but they are as big as all the thoughts I have about her. They're black; a very powerful black which almost tells about an inner confidence, an ambition. There's one thing I do occasionally notice about those eyes though. They are sad. Perhaps a story she'd like to tell? Perhaps the story she's reading about?

She often wears a few bits of jewellery, but nothing too flashy. The one silver elegant necklace around her neck must no doubt be of sentimental value. Her bag is never too full and she always has a book in her hand. You can tell so much about a person with their choice in literature, or at least you can generalise them, but I can never tell what she's reading.
I could, but I'm afraid it will spoil all what I think about her. I know its stupid but if it doesn't fit into my view of things, I may never be able to look at her in that way again. I think this once it's ok if I keep away my judgements about people through one detail.

What makes her really beautiful to me though is her interaction with people on the train. The way she smiles at them, offers someone a seat if they need it, excuses herself when she wants to move or asks someone for the paper. There's always a reassuring smile she gives to them; a sincere one. She would never hurt a stranger, i don't think she has that in her. It's as if she always believes that everyone deserves respect and kindness for just being who they are. Maybe even for just being born. It must surprise her that so many think otherwise, both in the local pub and in Iraq or Israel.

I worry about her though sometimes. People like her are hunted down by chiselled men who walk out of clothing catalogues and then disposed of everything that's majestic and wonderful about them. I'm aware I'm neither chiselled nor shallow and it's wrong to make judgements, but I just worry that someone with physical attractiveness or influence will rob people like ML of the very reason that makes them so beautiful.

In the end, I know so much about ML and yet nothing. Normally I'm not too shy to say anything but it's one of the few instances that I don't think I'd like to say anything even if I wanted to. In silence lies a lot of beauty and grace is one of its forms. It's the same reason dancers don't say anything in their act. It's the same reason the eyes are always the most beautiful part of the human anatomy.

I was actually meant to talk of a funny incident that happened involving ML and an old man; a beggar, but I think it's dropped behind now. I'll keep the funny for another time. For now I think I'll leave you with the thought that no matter what happens tomorrow, burnt toast or not, toxic cloud or not, I know I will catch my silver lining. And the day just will be perfect.

Puneeth

PS What's your silver lining?