What could be wrong with her? Why is she sitting like that, head in her hands? Should I approach and say, ‘Hi, what’s the problem?’ No, I can’t. This is a strange land, I can’t. You never know who’s who. But she’s been there for an hour… it can’t be faked. As time passes, she notices me. Maybe she sees the glances I’ve been throwing and decides to reciprocate, or perhaps she thinks I could help somehow. Our eyes meet several times.
It’s the era we are living in, where trauma, brokenness, and wounds have scarred a vast number of people. Maybe this woman is one of them.
She is carrying some bags. My mind tells me they’re probably clothes. Wait… is she wearing a headscarf? Could she be hiding something?
It’s the age of domestic abuse. Welcome to a time where husbands tear apart their wives, physically dismantling their faces. Why the face, of all the parts? To destroy her esteem, her sense of value maybe.
As I steal glances at her, I can’t stop wondering what could have happened. Was she thrown out of her house over rent arrears? Does she have kids? Where are they?
My empathy is boiling, urging me to walk over, sit with her, listen to her story. But this is a strange land, remember. You never know who is camouflaging.
Then my friend calls. We are supposed to meet. I board a car and leave her behind.
What happened to her? Did she leave? Did she sleep on the street?
Wellness reminder
Don’t let abuse fester. Act before it cripples you. If you boarded the wrong train, please alight at the next station. Because, the more the distance, the more difficult it becomes for you to return.