Blue Glass Bangles

I sat in the second class compartment of a slow Mumbai local train
Going back home from Churchgate to Goregaon.
As is wont, one tends to get lost in myriad thoughts
(Which run on as Eliot says like never-ending streets)
Sitting for a long time having to do nothing
But look out of the windows at the scenes flashing by
As the train halts for a few minutes at each station
And then resumes its journey onward.

So I sat looking out and shifting my gaze inside at intervals
As people came in and others got up to leave
I was on the point of dozing off
Due to sheer monotony and tiredness
When all at once my glance caught
On something twinkling away in front of me
It was an array of light blue glass bangles
Interspersed with white glittering dots
Worn on a pair of gnarled hands
That had seen the ravages of age and labor
The woman who wore them herself sat lost in thought
Yet her care-worn, aged face displayed a tranquility
That was in keeping with the beauty of the bangles on her wrists

I had not noticed at what point she had come in
And sat on the seat opposite me, which by now was half empty
She was clutching a small bundle placed in her lap
And kept looking straight ahead almost blankly
Seemingly unaware of the goings on around her
She wore a light cotton sari in the traditional Marathi way
That suggested she lived in the far off suburbs
With a small red bindi on her forehead
And the pallu of her saari covering her head halfway
She looked like any other passenger in the women's compartment
Except perhaps to me
Who had been awakened out of a stupor-like state
By the mere sight of a dozen seemingly ordinary blue glass bangles
Lovingly adorning a pair of old, worn-out hands.
The memory of those glittering bangles stays vivid in mind
And always brings a smile to my lips
Accompanied by an unmistakable aura of freshness
That rejuvenates the spirit and body
And serves as a reminder that sometimes
Life's simple things afford great and lasting pleasure!