Even as she sat glued to the moving trees and telephone poles, he was caressing her hair, playing with her fingers or staring right into her hazel-blue eyes, which she said changed colors � between blue, green and grey - according to her emotions and of course the Canadian climate.
She being a French Canadian had helped them get closer. Having met in one of the many Student Exchange Programs between India and Canada, he had taught her English while she was still trying. Not that she was a bad French teacher, just that Shankar was never comfortable with pronounciation � be it English or French. As it has always happened, is happening and will happen, they fell in love.
Now, four years after the end of the Exchange program, and two visits to India by Catharine, they had plans of getting married. Where would the marriage be held? What will be the customs/rituals followed? How will their parents communicate? These were only a few of the questions they were trying to find answers for.
Forced to take a special train because of a goods train de-railment in Guntur, they were cozily entrenched in an un-reserved compartment and which was pre-dominantly empty. One reason, why he was sitting close to her�staring right into her eyes and holding her hands.
In her orange churidhaar, she looked stunning. Her nose ring, bindi, anklets and the jasmine flower in her reddish brown hair added to her Indianness. An Indian in the making. Shankar would joke around, �Hope you don�t become a complete Indian by the time I get to marry you, I might no longer be interested,� and she would just shrug it off.
She had workd in the farms, with the Mexicans, who knowing that the Canadians do not like manual labour, had come in to fill the gap. Yet, her fingers were soft. The softness one could feel for one whole day and yet not get an overdose. Shankar was so engrossed with the feel factor that he didn�t notice a burkha clad lady and a 5 year old kid when they sat across the aisle. It took him a stare and a piercing nod in the woman�s direction to understand that they had company.
The lady�s arrival failed to deter our protagonist from his romance. Mabe this was what that made the lady react the way she did. After a few uneasy moments the lady adapted to the hormone-filled vibes in the coach and became comfortable in their cooing presence.
In fact too comfortable, for she pointed towards Catharine and asked Shankar, �Is she a Mumbai girl?�
Shankar knew that in India, United States of America was by far a more recognised country than Canada and hence, �She is from America, not Mumbai.�
This tickled her curiosity gland, which is far more developed in we Indians, as she came up with a gem of a question. A query that brought a grin on his face. �So how are you people related?�
Maybe, he should have thought a bit before he answered, but a smile at Catharine was all he had time for as he thrust his chest out and said, �She is my wife. We are just back from her honeymoon.�
