Article 16 of the Constitution says…

Life itself is a long expedition when we inadvertently take up a series of other negligible journeys within it. Individually measured, I love holidaying in fresh new spaces, but I detest and hate travelling, principally in the bumpy buses we have in our State. However, what on earth we try to shun, befall us the most when we don’t want them at any cost. I am immediately reminded of my recent journey last Friday, back to home with the most grumpy lady – the State bus. The hasty jog to the Bus station from the college never used to thwart me since I love running to anything in the twelfth hour  because that makes me believe  I am doing something enormous and grand just like Alexander felt when he occupied Persia. I had had multiple journeys in KSRTC buses after joining my college in the Olympian mountains. But this was the most incredible of all, I must unequivocally say, as this gave me extended memories.

I had to hang around for a few minutes at the bus station when I saw “the long - white and blue lady” landing the depot. I saw the populace around spitting and tossing out the remnants of eatables all around the bus station. I was fading off with thirst and I badly needed something to plug my neck. I saw a mini alfresco and headed towards and analyzed what precisely was going on there. I saw the green plank outside which included orange, lemon, pineapple and so on. I was suddenly reminded of Estha’s “Orange-drink lemon-drink man”. Finally, I decided to have an Orange juice but regrettably, the multi-tasking black fingers I saw behind the glass-cubicle which could scratch the head and then rip open the oranges made me nauseating. Without turning back, I rushed towards my bus.

I always favor the front single seat parallel to the driver seat. Obviously, there are two explanations. In the first place, I don’t like being touched by the throng and I need to be in my own mysterious planet. Secondly, I want the future to be lucid and transparent before me, always. From a personal perspective, I always prefer to lodge my existence in future and therefore I hardly live in my present nor do I make strings with my past. I hate all palpable hurdles and blockades curtailing my vision- my future. A front seat always guarantees this vivid sight. But just like a tragic irony, my single seat already had an occupant who has got in only to doze. I saw the cushions torn and tattered and the window panes red with rotten stains. My first emotional response was to get down and fetch a better bus, but my intellect hindered and I had to go on. I had to take the front seat just behind the Driver seat which never did soothe me at all. In addition, I was sandwiched by two other ladies on both sides. I felt like being trapped in a jail with six bars which were just in front of me, separating the travelers from the driver.

Soon as I was placed, the conductor came and the license to be there till destination was confirmed. I take a few minutes usually to get placed and I am stiff to be positioned in new state of affairs. Out of the blue, I recognized that the one who sat on my right hand side was a nun. A nun in grey clothes. Her wimple fluttered over me each time the wind gushed. I felt again like being trapped and beaten up for a bizzare offense. The nun was reading a book. A book which never matched her attractive fair fragile hands. I couldn’t see the name of the book. But I firmly decided it to be a holy book. I plainly turned to the left to discover my second close neighbor. She was a Tamilian I presume, with a few orange flowers adorning her head with some shimmering gold ornaments, prominent so much with her glossy-smooth black complexion. Her features appeared funny for me with a Rumpole nose and big falling lips. She appeared like the cartoons we gauged in India Today during schooldays.  The nun beside me was beautiful with a fair countenance, small lips and thick eyelashes. We exchanged a simple smile to each other. I could see all three of us; the nun, the Tamilian and myself huddled together through the front mirror at the right hand side of the bus. 

Looking at the nun again and again disappointed me because she was, if truth be told, beautiful. Not just beautiful, but extremely beautiful.  But my solace came from the left side - with the Tamilian lady. She had some big boxes placed by her side with something written on it in Tamil. May be she was carrying something to someone to be handed over at a distant place. A far off place. Her smelly orange flowers started irritating me. I had my bag on my lap and I hardly place my bags on untidy surfaces. Looking at everything around me, I once again turned my eyes towards the front single seat – a battle I had lost today. Immediately, the man in the single seat twisted his neck and kept smiling. The smile couldn’t be towards the nun. I am sure. Now the chance lay before me and my left side friend. Before I could think further, he continued to his snooze.

All visions around disenchanted me and I thought of turning to the auditory realms. I took my cell phone, inserted the head-set and harbored myself to a diverse world. But the different world of Bollywood songs still remained malodorous with the orange flowers on my left. Meanwhile the big long Grumpy lady stopped and started again at various stops. The noisy bus engine, just in antagonism, was shouting and hooting, making me unable to take pleasure in and ultimately I turned over to something different giving up the music. I re-checked my cell phone only to realize that the signal still hasn’t hit. No more calls or texts would strike me. Temple Run has always saved me at these tragic junctures and I forget everything around me when I start with these games. My only aim then would be to take my hero to his objective. Thus I began to chase him with the initiation of the Game. As I was on track, playing with my complete zeal, I got immersed in my target until the wimple started beating me up again. The thrashes deviated my attention and I could see “Game Over” with each blow I underwent. As the bus paced up with speed, the wimple started playing hide and seek with me. Whenever I settle on to warn her, the wimple turns out to be an obedient, docile, quiet child. Looking at that, I uphold silence and get back to my games. As I get back to the routine, the wimple starts striking me again. I thought this cannot be fair because I would have taken care of the disobedient wimple had I been in her place. Are they unfamiliar of other citizen’s rights?  I thought of suggesting the discomfort to her when I recognized a neighboring state’s weight sliding over my left shoulder. I turned left and saw the oil-slickening flowered hair falling gradually on my shoulder. How can this happen?? I groaned inside and I turned out to be a tigress. The wimple kept hitting me from right and the weight from left was piling up. Betwixt the wimple and the humble Tamilian, stood my Temple Run – never being able to run. 

I thought hard to resolve the problem. The mischievous wimple’s owner was awake. A nun undertakes three vows. The vow of Poverty, the vow of Chastity and the vow of Obedience. In which category shall the flapping wimple be placed ???  I conjectured.  Should I bring down the wimple first? Or should I lift up the falling head? To be or not to be….that was the question. For the first time in my life, I experienced procrastination and I was half-a-Hamlet. But vacillation can’t be in my chart at any cost and I thought of rebuffing. Initially I thought of settling my left side. 

I called her. “Excuse me…..!!!! I wasn’t excused. I tried to be louder and said again. “Hello….”No reaction came and I altered my jingle completely and said….”Alloooooooooo..!!” The third call matched her, I believe. She opened her watery eyes and tried to sit straight. I felt triumphed and was getting ready to enjoy my victory of casting off a hefty neighboring state. I felt proud but before I could savor my success, came back the same burden – this time with more solidity and power.

                               Meanwhile, the rush was thickening and more baggage and brats were cropping up. My visibility started evaporating as small children were led to hold the bars before me and I started getting exasperated. Like a Christ who was thrashed before crucifixion – the wimple thrashes. Like an Atlas holding weight – the Tamilian-oily-head from the left side. Like a Pied Piper with children of different sizes in front. I was getting goaded with each passing moment. 

I closed my games and packed the cell and sealed my luggage. One thing that struck me right at that moment was the wide meandering roads. I had two problems and I wanted a single solution. The bus was taking wide turns around the long curved road. I decided to act and the next time the bus took a broad curve, I leaned to the front abruptly taking off the support for my fellow traveler. And that really worked.  What never works with words, work with deeds. As I withdrew her only-support, with all her might, she went off to the right side. Her arrival to the new platform terrorized the passenger who was on my right side and the book slithered from her hand. My co-passengers awoke for a moment. One from her sleep and the other from her reading. They looked at each other cursing me in their mind, for I am sure because I had let the magic happen now. The lesson was done and now I leaned back to my seat and unzipped my bag. My cell once again peeped out and I began my temple run with no wimples or sleepers. The journey took its pace and I had a comfortable space of my own while both the passengers were keen not to disturb me anymore. I saw the nun holding her wimple tightly with full hands and saw the Tamilian popping her eyes wide, not allowing sleep to invade her. 

I had my peace. And my two neighbors were Resting In Peace. I had an easy, contented situation and by the next couple of minutes the Tamilian lady got down with her hulking boxes. Soon a middle aged fat lady came and filled the slot. As she occupied, both of us – the nun and I were crushed to the corners as Hulk Hogan once crushed Papa Shango. We managed to get back our portions of place and I continued my game session. I was relishing of how I managed both sides without a word. The bus went along, I looked and saw the obedient wimple just like a baby sitting on his mother’s lap; silent and quiet. But soon I realized a heaviness sliding over my left hand side. Before I could turn to the left….I knew……I am once more a Gladiator placed in the arena…where no choice is left…but only battles to be won…..to survive…to last in this world of ignominy……..here begins  chase II..………

A. Krishna Sunder

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