Swapan boarded on the train and got a vacant, window seat. There were more people pouring into this little compartment. A young couple was sitting opposite Swapan. The young man had his hand around the lady’s shoulder. The lady had swollen eyes. It seemed that she had cried a lot some moments ago.

They were sitting very close, so close that the seat for three people could easily occupy five. The man was staring at the window pane, not blinking at all.

Swapan was thinking that watching only the young couple in the whole crowd was not decent. He looked at the other people with his peripheral vision. No one seemed to give him any special attention.

The couple was wearing similar half-sleeved, white shirts. It seemed that it was a uniform of some institution. It was possible that they were the students of the nearby engineering college. But surprisingly, the colour of their trousers was not same. It was navy blue for the man and black for the lady. Swapan assumed that the institution they studied in was really not that strict with dress codes.

The lady started saying something softly. Her voice got drowned in the cacophony of the moving train and the loud cry of the nut seller. But the man was listening to her with full attention. They both had their palms placed gently against each other. Although some people watched them a few times, nobody seemed to be much concerned.

Swapan also was not concerned at all. But he continued staring at them with a weird astonishment. The man had a touch of serene softness in his eyes. It seemed that they were submerged in a different universe – known only to themselves – where nothing from the outside could enter without their permission or disturb them.

The train was moving fast, leaving behind the stations one by one. There were many misty memories and sorrows of emptiness crowding Swapan’s mind slowly. His consciousness was intoxicated by a sudden mirth. He did not know what caused this amusement.  Wasn’t he feeling a little bit of jealous also?

Swapan did not wish to think about it much. He just kept his eyes on the loving couple for the last time; he just tried to feel it once more in his heart. The train was preparing to halt at the station, which was his hometown. Swapan left the seat behind to get up.

Swapan remembered that he had a task to perform. He had to rush home early and write a love poem. An editor of a little magazine had told Swapan that he would send a worker in his house to fetch it anytime soon. But this time he knew he was inspired.