silver

Sitting face to face across each other on the side lower berth of a train.
Her eyes have that twinkle every time they meet his.
Her face glows when she looks earnestly at him seeking an answer.
Questioning, caring, making sure if he is Ok.
Their legs which were laid across side by side are now folded around themselves neatly.
He hardly speaks, but she understands.
She wears the shy smile of a bride behind the veil.
They both look either way now. She, through the window, he into the coach.
They have that dew drop freshness of a newly wed couple.
Journeys like these might not be a novelty.
She gestures elaborately to explain something like most girls. He, a few words and grunts.
Seems he said something funny within that and she covers her face to hide her smile.
Her eyes twinkle and glow. They talk now. A seeming conversation at last.
She is nodding, without looking at him though. Still looking out of the yellow tinted glass window. Her eyes lowered. She puts her hand below her delicate jaw.
She must have been beautiful around 40 years from now, backwards.
Hair a brilliant silver, about 10 bangles in each hand, a brilliant cream saree neatly worn, like for a special occasion. This is only a journey, but isn't life one too.
The wrinkles on her saree perfectly complement those on her face. She's beautiful.

The train halts briefly, she speculates on the name of the place. He disagrees. The name of a relative and an associated opinion is uttered and they both seem to visibly agree on this one.