The noodles were piping hot, oily and spicy.
My famished tummy growled in response.
As I sat at the chilli splattered, unwiped table - the only one available in the crowded eatery, I wasted no time in tucking into my lunch.
There was a swell in the crowd as it was lunch peak hour and I was content to have, for a brief moment, my own tiny space within the mass of people.
Then she appeared with her tray of noodles.
Her searching eyes met mine in an unspoken question.
Was the seat taken?
A nod and a tiny smile later, she walked over, placed her tray on the table and sat down beside me.
Two strangers. Two bowls of noodles. Her cup of tea and my cup of coffee.
Strangers. Yet in that slice of time, we were having our lunch together, sharing a small space on the little square table.
We finished our lunch in amiable silence and with that last sip of her tea, she stood up and left.
Should we ever meet again, we would surely not recognise each other. It would be as if we never met and our paths never touched. Fleeting incidences like these do not often leave an imprint of the faceless strangers that we meet.
How many of such paths have we encountered?
How many of such people have met and forgotten?
The fellow commuter who had sat beside you on the bus.
That old lady whom you had given up your seat to on the train.
The kind stranger who had held the lift doors open while you dashed in.
We were all strangers, whose paths had no reason to cross. But in that brief moment in time, we were connected by an event, a place, a smile.
The passer-bys in our life, who had shared a small slice of our life.
