My Traffic Warden

The innocence of her face was what struck me the first time I saw her. She was dark and her eyes were sad. She didn’t exactly look sad but she didn’t exactly look happy and groovy either. She was a Police Officer; a traffic warden. Every day, I will spend hours at Tara junction just to watch her face as she commandeered traffic. She was beautiful and looked smart in her black uniform. Sometimes I noticed fear besides sadness in her eyes. But her beauty had a way of trifling those sore emotions mirrored in her eyes. Every night I will dream I and the traffic warden are walking down the aisle, only to wake up to the futility of it all. Then I will walk to Tara junction yet again and there I will see my traffic warden in all her regal beauty and splendour. She wasn’t there when I came to Tara junction yesterday. I reckoned she was moved to another station. I vowed to find her anywhere she has been moved to on the face of this planet. This morning, I am watching the news and the newscaster is reading out a sad story of a lady beheaded in her apartment two days back. Then the picture of the unfortunate lady comes up on screen. It is my traffic warden.

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