Forward
The sun hung low like a bloody bruised orange tearing long wreathe like shadows into the flatscapes. It was so low that the light from the sun flooded the carriage in slanting beams whose edges were marked with dancing eddies. The train tottled along in nervous agitation sending the dust motes into ever spiralling orbits. The mood was morbidly portentous; strange forces were a-foot in the country threatening the placid calmness of my thoughts. Opposite me, above her head, warm air currents were stirring friskily in the heated square patch of sun reflection. The smell of mellow cow dung entered through the open windows and wrestled with the smell of passengers curry and fish dinners. It was dinner time in the train. I felt instantly better. I had purchased my dinner from a kiosk at the previous station. It had been handed to me by a skinny dark-skinned Tamil; skillfully wrapped in 'India Times' newspaper print. As I opened the package, the whiff caught me by surprise and I realised the oil had forced the newspaper print to emboss itself onto my fish dinner. 'Terror in Karnataka' ran the headline along the scaly back of my fish. Hence the morbid mood. I stabbed the fish with a rudimentary tooth pick and saw its eyes watching me forlornly. I gouged them out angrily with the tooth-pick (nobody likes to be stared at by their dinner). I separated the bones carefully from the white juicy flesh which I then moulded into a ball with my fingers and sponged with the rice. I was copying the other diners. I pushed the whole messy concoction into my dry mouth. It was saucy and a spicy-hot trickle ran down the side of my lips, then along the inside of my arm and unto my crotch between my legs. She sat opposite - laughing. I gave her a wounded lion look. She snarled back with her eyes glowing fiercly; showing her perfect teeth and perfect smile - that seemed for moment to be studded with a million diamonds. I was in love with that smile. God! I was in love with a lioness...
