"drink hot water at regular intervals sweeto"
"OK mom"
"and keep the flask by your side, whenever you feel cold inside the bus, have a cup or two"
"OK mom"
"and take your tablets only with hot water"
"ya mom"
"don't forget to take the flask once you leave the bus sweeto..we got it gifted at sreedevi's marriage. It's brand new. You are not keeping it with your bag right. So don't forget"
"Mom, please. I know that"
She smiled quirkily. Dad just parked the car nearby and joined us. We three stood in front of the single storied building which had the 'Sun Travels' board hanging precariously from it. The building was in disrepair. I wondered what kind of a great business deal happens in that decaying office room. They hardly had any access to main bus services to Bangalore and could never manage to get me a multi-axle Volvo A/C ticket. We waited in silence for the next five minutes as the overused bus' engine creaked from a distance. The bus seemed to be a close relative of the worn out building. It braked a good 500 meters away from where we stood and managed to stop near us with a squeal.
"Don't forget to drink the water Vinu. Call us once you reach Madiwala"
This time it was Dad's turn of pampering advice. I just nodded as I got into that piece of junk in the worse of wear. My face frowned as I entered the bus. The fact that I was from a well-off family itched my thoughts and compelled me to think that I should have been in an a/c bus sitting among some upper middle class people, covered in a blanket watching a brand new movie they would usually put in TV. Here I was, among some old couple, average citizens and poorly dressed snoring men. I reached for my seat (the seat numbers hardly mattered), kept my bag in the dusty top rack and sat at the window seat. As far as I can feel my face, it was still frowning in disgust as I tried to move the dusty window pain to no avail. I kept the flask in the seat to my immediate left which was empty. And the one next to the narrow passage was occupied by a man who looked around 45. He reminded me of Qutubudin Ansari, the man with teary eyes, who was the face of 2002 Gujarat riots. My phone ringed. It was my colleague Vinayak.
"ya bro tell me"
"hey Vinod, watzupp man? Haven't seen you around for some time. You were supposed to put your ass back at your seat last Wednesday?"
"Ya dude. Don't even ask. I fell sick. My Volvo ticket got cancelled"
"oh jeez..so how are you now"
"ya I'm fine. Managed to get a bus ticket man. It's total crap. Anyways...will meet you at the office tomorrow. Take care"
I reclined to my seat which was nowhere similar to the thick cushioned seat of Volvo. I fixed my ear phones and closed my eyes.......
I woke up hearing some sound. The cleaner of the bus was yelling at someone. I just raised my head to see what's going on. It was 'Qutubudin Ansari' who sat to my side.
"I told you that we have stopped here to fill petrol. You hardly had time to pee and you've already wasted 15 mins"
The cleaner was yelling out the occasional dominance he gets over passengers.
"Sorry Anna, some urgent work"
He was a tamilian. Normally tamilians who work in factories at Bangalore used to shuttle between states. I stared at him as he came to his seat. He seemed to be desperate. Well, I was disturbed. I just recovered from a bad fever and fortunately managed to get some sleep in the rip-roaring bus which is now snatched away from me. However, I closed my eyes in another attempt to recall the sandman.
Next time I woke up I had reached Silk Board, just 5 minutes away from Madiwala. I checked my mobile. It was ten past eight in the morning. The bus did its toll. Now I had to rush to my home and get ready in a giffy as I have report at the office by 9.30. I took my bag from the rack as the bus reached Madiwala. People slowly started moving towards the door making a slight rush. As I waited, I saw a 500 rupee note beneath the seat next to where the tamilian sat. I suddenly took it out of instinct. Who would leave a 500 rupee note here? Should I ask the Qutubudin Ansari? Nay. As far as he looks, he won't be carrying a 500 rupee note with him. And if I ask, he is gonna find a reason to get it. With no evident proof about the ownership, I would be obliged to give it to him. No need. He can't definitely be its owner nor the people who sat in the seats adjacent to it. I held it in my hand and got down.
I avoided the rickshaw drivers standing eagerly to get their share of passengers and started walking. A series of thoughts flashed in my mind.....
"Vinu, Whose color pen is this? I saw it in your box yesterday but I forgot to ask."
I was in my 4th standard.
"Shekar gave it to me mom. he gave it so that I can color the workbook"
"Then why didn't you give it back today? tell me the truth Vinu. Did you steal it"
"No mom. I swear. He gave it to me for coloring" My 9 year old voice was breaking.
"see vinu" Mom's voice seemed to care. "you are not supposed to take anyone's things ok. If you want anything tell me or your dad. We will get you anything you want"
I was still walking forward as my thoughts walked back. I was at the second year of my under graduation.
"What are we gonna do man. The matinee starts in some time"
My friend was desperate to watch the new release as we walked through the road after bunking the afternoon session. We were short of quite a few bucks, even to afford first class tickets. We continued walking. Suddenly my friend leapt forward and picked up something from the road. It was a 20 rupee note!
"see dude..just see our luck. Now we have enough money to take tickets right"
I nodded with a smile.
"You know what. This twenty rupee note was meant to be ours. Its destiny dude, destiny"
I was walking. The 500 rupee note was still there, in my folded left arm. Was it destiny? I was still thinking.
"What happened Vinod? What are you looking for?"
My colleague asked me as we got out from the hotel. I had paid the bill and noticed that a 100 rupee note was missing from my wallet.
"It's the money. I think I lost a hundred rupee note."
We both searched in vein.
"Damn it." My friend said. "Whoever gets that note is lucky. He didn't have to toil for it right"
I walked as the stream of consciousness stopped abruptly.
"don't forget to take the flask once you leave the bus sweeto..we got it gifted at sreedevi's marriage. It's brand new. You are not keeping it with your bag right. So don't forget"
I suddenly recollected my mom's words from last night. I rushed back to the bus. As I entered the bus, I heard the cleaner still shouting.
"you have been a pain in the ass throughout the journey. Come on man, get out. We have to park the bus back in the shed"
"5 minutes Anna. Just 5 minutes. Please"
It was the same tamilian from last night. He was desperately searching for something. I realised in a shock that he owned the 500 rupee note that my left arm withheld. I observed him silently as I reached for my seat to take my flask. Tears were streaming out of his eyes which he wiped frequently as he continued his search. I slowly took my flask and on the way back, dropped the note. I stretched deliberately so that he could notice and took the note again. I extended him the note.
"is it this that you are looking for?"
He looked at me and the note. A 1000 waves of gratitude rushed into his tear-filled eyes. Now he really reminded me of Qutubudin Ansari from the Gujarat riots.
"Romba thanks anna..my son is not at all feeling well. He was having high temperature last night. I have to buy him medicine"
That was when I noticed the 4 year old boy who was sitting in the window seat next to the tamilian all this while. A hand kerchief was tied around his head, probably for the lack of a woolen scarf or monkey cap which he couldn't afford.
"I searched for medicine last night when the bus stopped at the pump. But all shops were closed. I don't know how the money fell-off my pocket. Thanks a lot anna'
"No need to thank me. It was lying here"
I just smiled at him. Perhaps the only one I made from the beginning of the bus journey. I just got out of the bus. I was feeling so good. As I walked all the way to get a bus to rush for my home, a bit of realisation lighted up my prejudiced bourgeoisie mind.
We are all confused about right and wrong. Sometimes we justify even the small mistakes that we do. But..if you ever get a chance to correct one of them, may be that makes you feel much better than doing something right. Right?
"OK mom"
"and keep the flask by your side, whenever you feel cold inside the bus, have a cup or two"
"OK mom"
"and take your tablets only with hot water"
"ya mom"
"don't forget to take the flask once you leave the bus sweeto..we got it gifted at sreedevi's marriage. It's brand new. You are not keeping it with your bag right. So don't forget"
"Mom, please. I know that"
She smiled quirkily. Dad just parked the car nearby and joined us. We three stood in front of the single storied building which had the 'Sun Travels' board hanging precariously from it. The building was in disrepair. I wondered what kind of a great business deal happens in that decaying office room. They hardly had any access to main bus services to Bangalore and could never manage to get me a multi-axle Volvo A/C ticket. We waited in silence for the next five minutes as the overused bus' engine creaked from a distance. The bus seemed to be a close relative of the worn out building. It braked a good 500 meters away from where we stood and managed to stop near us with a squeal.
"Don't forget to drink the water Vinu. Call us once you reach Madiwala"
This time it was Dad's turn of pampering advice. I just nodded as I got into that piece of junk in the worse of wear. My face frowned as I entered the bus. The fact that I was from a well-off family itched my thoughts and compelled me to think that I should have been in an a/c bus sitting among some upper middle class people, covered in a blanket watching a brand new movie they would usually put in TV. Here I was, among some old couple, average citizens and poorly dressed snoring men. I reached for my seat (the seat numbers hardly mattered), kept my bag in the dusty top rack and sat at the window seat. As far as I can feel my face, it was still frowning in disgust as I tried to move the dusty window pain to no avail. I kept the flask in the seat to my immediate left which was empty. And the one next to the narrow passage was occupied by a man who looked around 45. He reminded me of Qutubudin Ansari, the man with teary eyes, who was the face of 2002 Gujarat riots. My phone ringed. It was my colleague Vinayak.
"ya bro tell me"
"hey Vinod, watzupp man? Haven't seen you around for some time. You were supposed to put your ass back at your seat last Wednesday?"
"Ya dude. Don't even ask. I fell sick. My Volvo ticket got cancelled"
"oh jeez..so how are you now"
"ya I'm fine. Managed to get a bus ticket man. It's total crap. Anyways...will meet you at the office tomorrow. Take care"
I reclined to my seat which was nowhere similar to the thick cushioned seat of Volvo. I fixed my ear phones and closed my eyes.......
I woke up hearing some sound. The cleaner of the bus was yelling at someone. I just raised my head to see what's going on. It was 'Qutubudin Ansari' who sat to my side.
"I told you that we have stopped here to fill petrol. You hardly had time to pee and you've already wasted 15 mins"
The cleaner was yelling out the occasional dominance he gets over passengers.
"Sorry Anna, some urgent work"
He was a tamilian. Normally tamilians who work in factories at Bangalore used to shuttle between states. I stared at him as he came to his seat. He seemed to be desperate. Well, I was disturbed. I just recovered from a bad fever and fortunately managed to get some sleep in the rip-roaring bus which is now snatched away from me. However, I closed my eyes in another attempt to recall the sandman.
Next time I woke up I had reached Silk Board, just 5 minutes away from Madiwala. I checked my mobile. It was ten past eight in the morning. The bus did its toll. Now I had to rush to my home and get ready in a giffy as I have report at the office by 9.30. I took my bag from the rack as the bus reached Madiwala. People slowly started moving towards the door making a slight rush. As I waited, I saw a 500 rupee note beneath the seat next to where the tamilian sat. I suddenly took it out of instinct. Who would leave a 500 rupee note here? Should I ask the Qutubudin Ansari? Nay. As far as he looks, he won't be carrying a 500 rupee note with him. And if I ask, he is gonna find a reason to get it. With no evident proof about the ownership, I would be obliged to give it to him. No need. He can't definitely be its owner nor the people who sat in the seats adjacent to it. I held it in my hand and got down.
I avoided the rickshaw drivers standing eagerly to get their share of passengers and started walking. A series of thoughts flashed in my mind.....
"Vinu, Whose color pen is this? I saw it in your box yesterday but I forgot to ask."
I was in my 4th standard.
"Shekar gave it to me mom. he gave it so that I can color the workbook"
"Then why didn't you give it back today? tell me the truth Vinu. Did you steal it"
"No mom. I swear. He gave it to me for coloring" My 9 year old voice was breaking.
"see vinu" Mom's voice seemed to care. "you are not supposed to take anyone's things ok. If you want anything tell me or your dad. We will get you anything you want"
I was still walking forward as my thoughts walked back. I was at the second year of my under graduation.
"What are we gonna do man. The matinee starts in some time"
My friend was desperate to watch the new release as we walked through the road after bunking the afternoon session. We were short of quite a few bucks, even to afford first class tickets. We continued walking. Suddenly my friend leapt forward and picked up something from the road. It was a 20 rupee note!
"see dude..just see our luck. Now we have enough money to take tickets right"
I nodded with a smile.
"You know what. This twenty rupee note was meant to be ours. Its destiny dude, destiny"
I was walking. The 500 rupee note was still there, in my folded left arm. Was it destiny? I was still thinking.
"What happened Vinod? What are you looking for?"
My colleague asked me as we got out from the hotel. I had paid the bill and noticed that a 100 rupee note was missing from my wallet.
"It's the money. I think I lost a hundred rupee note."
We both searched in vein.
"Damn it." My friend said. "Whoever gets that note is lucky. He didn't have to toil for it right"
I walked as the stream of consciousness stopped abruptly.
"don't forget to take the flask once you leave the bus sweeto..we got it gifted at sreedevi's marriage. It's brand new. You are not keeping it with your bag right. So don't forget"
I suddenly recollected my mom's words from last night. I rushed back to the bus. As I entered the bus, I heard the cleaner still shouting.
"you have been a pain in the ass throughout the journey. Come on man, get out. We have to park the bus back in the shed"
"5 minutes Anna. Just 5 minutes. Please"
It was the same tamilian from last night. He was desperately searching for something. I realised in a shock that he owned the 500 rupee note that my left arm withheld. I observed him silently as I reached for my seat to take my flask. Tears were streaming out of his eyes which he wiped frequently as he continued his search. I slowly took my flask and on the way back, dropped the note. I stretched deliberately so that he could notice and took the note again. I extended him the note.
"is it this that you are looking for?"
He looked at me and the note. A 1000 waves of gratitude rushed into his tear-filled eyes. Now he really reminded me of Qutubudin Ansari from the Gujarat riots.
"Romba thanks anna..my son is not at all feeling well. He was having high temperature last night. I have to buy him medicine"
That was when I noticed the 4 year old boy who was sitting in the window seat next to the tamilian all this while. A hand kerchief was tied around his head, probably for the lack of a woolen scarf or monkey cap which he couldn't afford.
"I searched for medicine last night when the bus stopped at the pump. But all shops were closed. I don't know how the money fell-off my pocket. Thanks a lot anna'
"No need to thank me. It was lying here"
I just smiled at him. Perhaps the only one I made from the beginning of the bus journey. I just got out of the bus. I was feeling so good. As I walked all the way to get a bus to rush for my home, a bit of realisation lighted up my prejudiced bourgeoisie mind.
We are all confused about right and wrong. Sometimes we justify even the small mistakes that we do. But..if you ever get a chance to correct one of them, may be that makes you feel much better than doing something right. Right?
4 comments:
Gud story with a great msg da...i guess these words comes out from ur experiences in life.
Thanks da..ya it's one of my experiences..actually each moment of our life is filled with lot of aesthetics and passion which many a time we fail to observe. Will be posting more adaptations of my encounter with life
Gud one aliya... nd very good narration too... keep your creativity flowing!
thanx da
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