Ittefaq Say (MeeraSim FF)

4 - Tiffin

She had nothing better to do, so Meerab took the opportunity to freshen up in the washroom.

Unfortunately the water was luke warm but it would suffice for washing her hands and flicking over herself to wake herself up. The journey was long and she didnt plan to let her guard down- especially when she didnt have the comfort of islotion anymore.

She was in and out and soon returning to her own booth in less than 5 minutes. Just as she took her seat, she felt her tummy rumble in hunger.

It was almost Maghrib and she supposed now was a good time as any to have dinner. She never did have an appetite for 'outside' food so he had stuffed the tiffin full of her own. She figured it was only fair after all, it was from her own wedding- so couldn't be regarded as theft.

That man, Murtasim, was sat strumming his fingers and periodically twisting the oversized watch on his wrist to see the dial- sometimes barley a minute passed in-between. She had sensed that he wanted to talk with her to pass the time for a while now, but she purposely didn't make eyecontact, wanting to detter him.

Murtasim saw her stand up and turn to the overhead storage. Her open ebony hair flowed down her back and she gazed up at her bag. She was trying to retrieve her belongings from the storage compartment- he guessed.

Her hands reached up- they touched the metal unit, but the bag had been pushed back and was out of her reach. She tiptoed and stretched but her efforts were in vain- small sigh left her at the realisation of her inability to reach her own belonging. She was going to have to call that conductor back.

Then Meerab felt a presence to the side of and her eyes flickered to see him stood behind her, but only as much was nesecary to retrieve the bag for her. He retrieved it with ease and handed it over to her.

Meerab was a little taken back at his kind action- it was a soothing balm after the journey that she had taken to reach the station. 'Shukria.' She took the bag off him and held it close to her chest- like a baby. 'Zehmat karne ki zaroorat nahi thi. Main conductor ko bula lethi.' ( Thankyou, but you didnt to exert yourself. I could have called the conductor for help.)

He shooked his head faintly at the notion that helping a lady in this way could ever be hassle.'Koy zehmat nahi thi.' He voiced with tenderness, correcting her statement. ( It was no hassle.)

They both took their respective seats and train continued propelling them at 60mph down the country.

Meerab tried to undoe the knot she had overzealously tried infront of the train staff. Her long painted nails unable to get a good grip of the twisted handles.

The frustration was only heightened as he watched her struggle. His gaze felt like a taunt and irked her, feeling like her strength was insufficient for such a simple task.

He must have thought her to be poor, unable to afford a proper suitcase for a long journey, relying on a knot rather than a mini padlock. She had judged him to be snobby- far too posh for a train, just from the way he had sat and leisurely read his newspaper.

Murtasim's hands twiched- wanting to reach out and help her. His open palm came out between them as he suggested, 'Main kar dou?' ( Shall i do it?)

She saw his hand, bur she didnt lift her gaze to meet his. She had shook her and said, 'Main kar loungi.' She mummed in defiance. Her voice steady and self assured, not wanting to rely on the stranger, any more than necessary. ( I can do it.)

He retreated, not wanting to unnecessarily intervene with her belonings. Besides, the girl seemed headstrong, and had high hopes for the strength of her fingers.

The speakers played some low crackly radio station which filled the silence.

Meerab had gotten this far her self, she needed to get used to being self sufficient she reasoned. The contents of the bag were too dear to her. It would be reckless to unnecessarily hand over her security to a stranger. But then again, she hadent stopped any red flags in him. She tried to undo the knot for perhaps another 20 seconds before huffing in defeat.