Between Stops...
The metro was alive with its usual rush, a sea of women moving through their day. I found a spot near the door, and right in front of me stood two girls—so different, yet perfectly in sync. One had long, neatly plaited hair, a simple cotton bag slung over her shoulder. A black bindi rested on her forehead, with a faint trace of kunkuma above it, as if she had hurriedly applied it that morning. Her feet, tucked into flower-bowed slippers, completed her effortless grace. The other was effortlessly stylish. Her nails, decorated with delicate nail art, tapped lightly against her phone. She wore Levi’s jeans and Crocs—an unusual combination, but one that suited her. I love listening to college girls talk. Not in a nosy way, just out of curiosity. It’s fascinating to see how they are now, how we once were. There’s something refreshing about their unfiltered conversations, a kind of innocence wrapped in laughter. Today, the stylish one was upset—she had messed up her MC, and it weighed o...