divya

[కుమార్]

Divya saw the old samosa seller. She smiled innocent.
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‎“Train late hai. Monu ko samosa khilayein?”
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‎Ranjith looked at the old man again. Then at Divya. His voice low, calm.
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‎“He is looking at you.”
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‎Divya turned her head slightly. 
‎The old man was now talking to another passenger — a lady with bags — laughing, selling samosa. 
‎Not staring anymore.
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‎She looked back at Ranjith. Small smile.
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‎“Ab toh baat kar raha hai kisi aur se.”
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‎Ranjith eyes steady on her. No anger. No smile.
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‎“I am not with you. You are not with me. Let us see what he does.”
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‎Divya looked into her husband’s eyes. She smiled soft, little nervous.
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‎“You will feel bad.”
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‎Ranjith shook his head once.
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‎“I don’t.”
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‎Train whistle came.
‎ Platform announcement. Train slowly entered station. Old red-white bogies. Almost empty.
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‎They entered separately.
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‎Ranjith sit on his berth window.
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‎Divya went to side lower berth seat .
‎ monu sit infront of her.
‎ she Took a book from bag. Opened it. Started reading. Eyes on pages but mind not there.
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‎Train moved after one minute. Slow jerk. Then smooth. Countryside started passing outside window.
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‎Total bogie almost empty. Only few passengers far away. No one near them.
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‎Old samosa seller entered the coach after five minutes. Bucket in hand. Walking slow. Beedi in mouth. Dirty lungi, shirt. Eyes searching.
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‎He saw Divya first. Alone on lower berth. Yellow saree glowing in morning light from window. 
‎Tight blouse. Pallu little loose because she was reading. 
‎Breasts rising-falling soft with breath. Fair skin shining.
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‎The old samosa seller stopped near Divya’s seat. His small bucket steamed with hot samosas. 
‎Beedi smoke curled from his mouth. 
‎Dirty lungi, stained shirt, rough beard — he looked sixty, tired but sharp-eyed.
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‎“Memsab… samosa garam hai. Lo na?” he said, voice low, eyes fixed on her yellow saree, her tight blouse, the way her breasts rose gently with each breath.
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‎Divya looked up from her book. Face polite but firm.
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‎“Nahi.”
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‎She closed the book. Turned to Monu, who was playing with a toy car on the seat.
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‎“Paanch do mujhe,” ranjith said to the seller.
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‎He quickly packed five samosas in paper. Gave to Ranjith.
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‎Ranjith took out money. While giving notes, he asked casual, “What is your name?”
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‎“Lalla saab,” the seller replied, voice respectful but eyes flicking towards Divya again.
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‎Divya was busy giving water bottle to Monu. 
‎She bent a little to open the cap for him. Her pallu slipped slightly — just enough. 
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‎Yellow saree shifted. Tight blouse neckline dipped. 
‎Her glowing fair breasts came into view more — deep cleavage visible, soft curves shining in light from window. 
‎Nipples outline faint through thin blouse.
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‎Lalla saw it clearly. His eyes widened. Beedi almost fell from mouth. 
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‎He stared hard — hungry, shameless — at her cleavage, her breasts rising-falling as she helped Monu drink.
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‎Divya felt the stare. Her cheeks flushed pink. She quickly pulled pallu back up. Fixed blouse. Looked away.
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‎Ranjith noticed everything. The stare. Divya’s red face. The way Lalla eyes lingered.
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‎He said nothing.
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‎Just took samosas. . Sat back on his seat.
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‎Lalla stood there one more second. Then picked up bucket. Walked away slow down the coach. But he looked back twice — eyes still on Divya.
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‎Train moved smooth. Countryside passed outside.
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‎Divya sat quiet. Book open but not reading. Face red. Shy. Guilty.