perception is fatal: on the bus (pin)

The bus rolled stationery to acquire a few more passengers. I had already noticed the Indian mother seated in the seat just in front, for it was a cold day and she wore a salwar kameez and a warm woolen shawl wrapped about her shoulders and neck. The shawl looked enviously warm and comfortable, and her plait of braided black hair, interweaved with a few strands of white, rested on the shawl down her back. She flipped open her phone and I caught a glimpse on the screen of a photo taken at a beach of a little browned-skinned boy. Then, as I watched, she reached her hand to her neck and down underneath the shawl to pull out a thick twisted rope gold chain. The gold chain was dull yellow in colour and given the the sub-continental respect for the metal I assume it was real. Clipped onto the chain, I saw, was a large safety pin. She unclipped the pin from its chain, opened her mouth and, to my apprehension, popped the needle inside her mouth cavity and began to use its point as a toothpick. Into the crevices between her teeth the needle scraped, this way and that. Killing my breath, I willed her to desist and to notice that the new passengers had just about all boarded and the bus could jerk to movement at any moment. Just in time, the needle came out. She clipped the safety pin back onto the chain and tucked it back underneath her shawl as I breathed in relief and marvelled.