Isn't the human mind amazing? The concept of time seems to vanish when you can recall vivid details of mundane experiences from the complex tapestry of memories, each thread of which has a story to tell and relive. Bittersweet memories of such an experience recently paid me a visit. It felt like I opened a dusty book from the shelf bearing the weight of the other books leaning against it.
I lived a big chunk of my life in a small town in Himachal Pradesh. The town is connected to other cities via roads only. There is no train or air transport there. When I took a job in a big city, I had to take a bus home every 2 to 3 months to visit. The journey started in New Delhi and it took almost 11 hours to reach my home. I preferred night journey otherwise I would lose an entire day travelling. On the day of my departure, I would try to arrive at the bus terminal at least 2 hours early. I would buy window seat tickets in the middle of the bus. It worked out best as people sitting in front have to bear the brunt of cold winds whenever the door opens. And God bless the bums of the people sitting in the back of the bus where you can feel every jerk, jostle, and bump.
Whatever little time I had before departure, I would quickly gobble some food to avoid getting a queasy stomach and it also saved me from the embarrassing sounds of empty gurgling tummy. While eating, I loved to look around. I have some acquaintances here - shopkeepers, beggars (with whom I avoided any eye contact), and weighing machines that would eat a two-rupee coin to spit out the weight. Sometimes a hard kick would help if it refused to cooperate (I couldn't let go of my hard-earned money).
Life never seems to stop at such places. The bus terminal was always bustling with people. The vivacious energy would rub off on me. In no time I would find myself breaking away from the daily chorus and humming to a different tune. I was alone but never felt lonely. Striking up a conversation with a stranger was far easier here probably due to commonality of being in the same place for the same reason. Though the exchanges were pretty cerebral but nevertheless some interaction felt good in such solo travels.
There came my vehicle. How could I miss it? The honks were pretty darn loud and the smoke it threw on my face made my tanned complexion a tad darker (what a cheap way to get tanned. People spend a good amount in other countries to get this look!!). Nothing could dampen my excitement of reaching my home the next morning. The conductor skillfully guided the driver in backing up to its parking spot using the whistle while partially hanging out of the bus. I always tried in vain to decipher the meaning of different sounds of his whistle. Before the bus made a complete stop, the conductor would get down showing his dexterity in the way he handled his body's inertia when his feet touched the ground with some velocity. (An ideal specimen for the physics lab!!).
The lady appointed for cleaning the restrooms would give me a look suggesting “There you are again”. She would be lazing around carrying half-naked kids and would never fail in making me feel bad about her poverty. Not missing an opportunity for some good karma, I would give her some extra money and request her to do better job in cleaning. She would give me a stern look suggesting: "You must be kidding. Work harder for a few extra coins!! I have better things to do." Lending my cellphone probably would have worked.
As soon as the conductor was done with his routine activities of counting the passengers and checking their tickets, he blew his whistle signaling the driver to start the journey. The bus crawled for a good hour making its way through the capital to reach the highway. The driver would not miss an opportunity on the way to greet other fellow drivers by honking to get their attention. I must say that this road side custom of showing a camaraderie can cause some distractions and not felt very safe. Once the bus touched the highway, I opened my window to get some fresh air unless the weather was cold. Thanks to the courtesy of people sitting in the front, sometimes I would experience other things on my face besides fresh air. I was not expecting any apology from people throwing stuff out from a moving bus. I should have known the laws of motion better!!
Almost 3 hours later, after entering the state of Haryana, the bus stopped at some roadside Dhaaba (restaurant) for dinner. Time to get off to enjoy some tea from the nearby Chaiwalas (tea vendors). Peppy Bollywood songs of the 90's, some light-hearted banter and giggling among the co-passengers and a serving of hot tea with a blanket of air filled with nice aroma of Indian curries and freshly cooked Rotis (Indian Tortilla) from Tandoor ovens - living in the moment couldn't get better than this. Even the sleepy stray dogs would wake up hovering around people wagging their tails for some yummy left overs. These roadside eating joints get their entire business from highway traffic. People are pretty efficient here in serving gourmet food at very reasonable prices. They don’t need fancy software to take orders. The magic of human touch is unparalleled. Sitting there I wondered about the world enclosed in air conditioned glass walls which is fast paced, demanding and anti-climax to the world I was witnessing. The scene was more engaging during the day as you got to see the surrounding villages, farms, cattle, and people who worked tirelessly to make ends meet. Though for short intervals, witnessing life in its raw form devoid of any baggage of modernization appeared very refreshing. On one hand, there were muddy puddles, dirt, pollution, and smoke and on the other, there was warmth, simplicity, playfulness, and music in the air. The worst and the best co-existed.
Immersed in my thoughts I got back on the bus which was filled with the smell of pickle (some people ate home-cooked food). As we moved forward with our journey I could see some people falling asleep with their mouths wide open. While trying hard to control their snoring sleepy heads, some would perch their heads on windows and some would lean forward on their handbags. My co-passenger’s head would land on my shoulder and he would wake up with a jerk feeling apologetic for his sleepiness. The honeymoon couples appeared most comfortable. Before I drifted into dreamland, I made sure to request the conductor to wake me up a few minutes before my stop. I didn't realize that a heavily drunk person sitting beside me overheard my conversation. He was extremely drowsy and disoriented. I might have drifted into sleep in the minutes to follow. When the bus stopped later for pickups and drop offs, I was startled by someone's loud voice: "Madam please get down. It’s your town." I woke up and realized that the drunkard fellow sitting beside me was actually talking to me. Then he fell on his seat and slept. Since he was under the influence, it was in my best interest to ignore him. Later at every stop, this fellow would wake me up and urge me to get down. Everyone had a good laugh in the bus, including the conductor who kept coming to my defense and advised my well-wisher that in his act of philanthropy he might forget where he was supposed to get off. In spite of that, he kept harping. Probably that was the only thing he remembered in his dimly lit senses.
The bus kept cruising along. Leaving behind many small villages, towns and cities we entered the state of Himachal Pradesh which I could sense even in my deep sleep. The air smelled different. It was the same smell that I grew up with. I felt closer to my home. Beside our heads now we had to control our bodies swaying left and right due to curvy hilly terrain. But I was used to this discomfort. What scared the hell out of me a little later was the speed of the bus. It seemed the driver was in no mood to use the brakes to slow down. The contents of my stomach were churning so bad, I could taste my dinner again. I decided to confront him. I got up and requested him to drive slow and be safe. He rudely replied - "Madam! Don't try to teach me how to do my job." I looked around. No one stood up to support me. A voice in my head said: "Rani (Queen) of Jhansi, It’s not a good idea to attack without an army." I quietly sat down and anxiously waited to reach home safely carrying a little echo of my experience in some corner of my heart.
Finally when I reached my town, that drunkard fellow also got down. Now I understood that why he kept waking me up at every stop? He was simply relying on me to get an idea about his destination.
Isn’t the beauty of life lies in the uncertainty of what lies ahead? You can be pleasantly surprised or rudely shocked as each moment unfolds. In either case just be with it to assimilate it fully without judging.