Exchange of eyes

It was almost 6 pm. I entered the bus-stand where a number of company buses were parked, waiting for the whistle. I was late for the bus and was walking briskly towards my bus, parked at the other end.

I had just sent out an indignant yet powerful mail to the Higher-ups. My face was set straight with masculine no-nonsense. I was still in the strong-mail-composing frame of mind. As if blaming the Higher-ups for making me miss the 5 pm bus.

My stride was purposeful and quick. Completely poised and totally in control. A small drop of perspiration appeared from nowhere on my forehead. With a brush of the thumb, I wiped it away.

At a slight angle, not directly head-on, and about twenty feet away, she was coming towards me, heading for another bus parked behind me, in the very same pace. I looked at her. She looked at me. Something happened in that look. That exchange of eyes.

I didn’t mean to stare. So I tried to look away. But it somehow took a great effort. A number of things went on in my mind. Did I know her? Did she resemble somebody I knew? An expression of amused puzzlement came over me and my stride lost its briskness. I just could not help looking back at her face. She, on the contrary, had not taken her eyes off me! She was still looking at me, directly at my eyes!

She was now about just ten feet from me. There was this sudden urge that I had to talk to her somehow, something. My stride lessened even more. Perhaps buying time for the mind to process my database and come up with some sort of a match. Perhaps buying time for her mind to process her database and come up with some sort of a match. Was she undergoing a similar conflict of emotions as me?

We passed each other. The moment passed. I did not speak to her. I mentally banged my head. I could have said anything but I said nothing. Yet, why did I want to say something to her? Especially to her alone? Why did that exchange of eyes seem so significant? Perhaps saying something would have given a clue as to who she was.

I reached my bus slowly. I sat down in the first available seat. I somehow couldn’t let go of that feeling of ‘I know her’ and ‘I know I know her!’ Perhaps I will never see her again. I tried vainly searching the bus-stand again but had no idea which bus she went into. There was this sudden void feeling. It was inexplicable.

Was she feeling the same too?
Or was I just over-reacting?

Were we related in our past lives?
Or am I reading too many spiritual novels?

I guess I will never know…