In close vicinity there was a woman, aged around forty I would guess, squatting on the floor, her hands held in a firm grip around her legs. She was dressed in a colourful yellow and blue saree and a yellow blouse. A man, around the same age as the woman, dressed in a lungi striped in shades of blue and a pale blue shirt was standing on her right side.
The man was holding a handful of yellow and saffron flowers. And in the other hand a few pieces of coconut. Flowers and coconut, prasad from a temple I presume. The man was trying to give the flowers to the woman. The woman looked stern faced and resolute.
He held the flowers out on his hand out for sometime. Then he tried to put in on her hands but she would shrug and move. Then he tried to put the flowers between her knees. That was met with a strong look. In his defense, the man said things in a low voice and a very recognisable tone.
If human pleading styles was a function there would be part of it which depends on variables such as culture, language, age, context. And then a large potion which is constant. It was this constant part that I recognised.
He was persistant and kept standing there, out of lack of knowledge of where else to go or what else to do. He was not saying very much, just a few words sparsed out over a few minutes. And then she lost it. She went back to fast talking at the ni (Ti) note on my scale, the same kind that caught my attention. This seemed to have helped him. He had something more to say in the same low, pleading tone.
Her words and his words went somewhere and melted something. Her expressions changed. He was perceptive and decided to sit down next to her. They started talking now. She was shaking her head and looking down while talking but her face was less stern.
The train arrived. I boarded. They may have decided to miss it, I am not sure.
I hope they did.
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