A Bus Ride

    I stared into the distant fields of patchy green and dusty brown. The weather was hot and I was sweating. I pulled out my handkerchief from my pocket and wiped my face. It was stinking as I had not washed it for the last three days. I stuffed it back into the pocket and rested my head on the bars of the window. The hot sun spat on my face and I moved back in reflex. Warm air blew in and made me more uncomfortable. I looked around and counted seven others in the transport bus. It was half an hour past eleven and I was heading home after a week of competitive exams.

    The driver stopped the bus at the next bus stop where an old woman and her grandchild boarded the bus. The child eagerly jumped into the side seat in front of me. His grandmother swaying with the bus’s movement held on to the rods as she struggled to sit along with her grandchild. I closed my eyes for some time and slept in between. When I woke up, the bus had occupants in all the seats. Some were sitting alone, some were sitting together, some were sitting in the same row but travelling to different destinations and some of us sitting in different seats were travelling to the same destination. I stretched my legs and dropped myself into the arms of sleep once again.

     The roads were bumpy and I soon woke up. This time I sat straight for some time, stretched my hands, had a yawn and sat idly. The bus halted at a stop where a post read Mainakiri. My home was about seventy kilometers from this place. I could already feel the smell of my mother’s oil, her food, the mango tree, and the cows. A young girl entered the bus and glanced around. She slowly moved towards my seat and looked at me. I adjusted my legs and gave space for her. She sat next to me like a bride. Shy and coy. She adjusted her dupattas and looked at me who was still observing her from the corner of my eyes. I immediately stared into the hot air outside. I was burning inside as well.

     When the ticket collector came, she took a ticket for Panayarkulam. I heard it with my left ear and acted as if I had not heard anything. This place is fourteen kilometers from my house. That is not a distance, I thought. I would turn thirty in a couple of months. I did not have a job yet. I was taking exams and expecting a good call soon. My mother was forcing me to get married and she had given up her search when I did not budge to any of her interests. Finally she gave me the consent to find a girl of my own choice and from then on, any girl seemed to me a prospective bride. All I wanted was a fair girl, with long hair who was very beautiful, good at heart, with a good character and would take care of me, my children and my mother. The rest could be compromised. Education, family background and monetary concerns did not bother me.

                The moment this girl sat next to me, I knew it in my heart. So prayers have meaning. In my mind, I made some promises of offerings to Sree Krishnan and a few other calculations. This journey was going to be the beginning of a new journey. Once again I attempted what I had done a few minutes before. I investigated her through the corner of my eyes. A lavender churidar. Long finger nails with maroon nail polish. Three rings on five fingers. Fair complexion. Two gold bangles. Her hand was providing me details one after the other. Her hands tempted me to look at her face. I quickly stole a glance at her face that was staring into the fields outside. I too looked into that direction and found nothing interesting there.

                “What is your name?” the question came as a shock. I looked at her. No. I gawked at her. I don’t know what I was thinking. But all I could experience was a face that was etched in perfection. The forehead had beads of sweat. She smelt of Santhoor soap, Cuticura powder and her clothes smelt of Surf detergent. Her nose studs shone in the beauty of her face. Her lips curved into the contours of her mouth and her eye lashes fanned her eyes. I noticed her lips were swollen. She concealed it with a red lipstick. But there was a spot of blood in the corner of the upper lips. With all these details I could collect I said, “Manish. What is your name?” I did not want to call her any name. She was an angel.   She smiled seeing my face which was surely giving the wrong signals. She replied casually, “call me anything you want.” I felt displeasure at her answer and her tone. But I hid it in my next question, “where are you going?”                                                                                                                                                   She replied, “are you going to your house?” I felt surprised at this question. A question for another question.                                                                                                                                                   

 I repeated, “where are you going?”                                                                                                                                 

 “How hot it is,” she observed.                                                                                                             My impatience grew within me and reflected in my expression. But she just smiled. The khol defined the borders of her small eyes. It had spread a little below her left eye. But it looked good. Her black bindhi on the forehead marked the mid-point above her nose and between her eyes. She was beautiful. She was fair. Her hair was long and let loose. I felt like running my fingers through the long shampooed hair. How many times I had dreamt of resting my head on the lap of a lady as she sheepishly grazed her fingers on my hairy chest and her long hair falling over us like a blanket. The bus jerked violently and according to Newton’s law of inertia and some undefined principle, she swayed and let her whole weight fall on me. I was thrown back into reality and I caught her by her arm to support her. There was no need to, but still I did. We were sitting close enough and I could smell the shampoo in her hair.

I want to marry her. I want to marry her. I want to marry her. My heart kept on telling my brain.

     She did not take her hand off my left thigh. She left it there and rested her head on my left shoulders. How many times I had dreamt of sitting like this on the banks of the river. I slowly and reluctantly put my left hand across her shoulder. I felt like I had seized a new kingdom. She raised her head and looked into my eyes. “Spending this night with me?”                                                                My hands returned to where they should be. My brain scolded my heart. I got up like a jack from the box. “Who are you?” I shouted into her face. Two drops of my saliva fell on her cheeks. She wiped them with the back of her hands. She blocked my way out with her legs and seized my left wrist. I looked at others in the bus. Some were observing us while others were lost in their own world.            “Sit down. Sit down,” She requested me. She pressed my wrists tight. I looked out of the bus once and sat next to her once again.                                                                                                                                                          “Who are you? What’s your name?” I was anxious to know, maybe scared a bit.                     “What is in a name?” she smirked. The eyes hid immeasurable emotions. I lost my cool. I raised my voice and asked her to get up and leave. She did not leave but moved closer and I could feel her breathe. I edged myself. She moved an inch closer. I could feel her churidar on my pants. I could feel her flesh on my flesh.

                I could not sit there any longer. I once again tried to get up. But she surprised me with her hands around my hips. She was strong. She pulled me down with all her might as I tried to get up. “Leave me you” I did not complete the sentence but punched her abdomen with my elbow. This was it. She howled and jumped out like a shaken tigress. Before I could plan my next move, I was cornered. Her legs were no longer the slender ones I had forgotten to notice. But her right leg like a pointed dagger choked my throat. She caught me by my hair and tried to pull my face off my body. I howled louder than her. She scowled at me. I could see blood rushing into her eyes. I screamed for help. But nobody rushed to help me. She took her leg from my throat and held me by the collar of my shirt. But I was immobile as she forced her left leg on my chest. Her ankle squeezed my thighs. I had no idea why I was being attacked. I tried to free myself from her piercing glance. She was a palm’s distance from my face. “Don’t you want to marry me? Don’t you want to be my husband? Don’t you want to lie on my lap? Don’t you want to sit with me on the banks of the river? Don’t you want me to be the mother of your children? Don’t you want me to live as you please? Don’t you want me to be good hearted and of good character? Don’t you want me to be your doll?” She was spewing venom. How could she read my mind? What would other passengers think? She looked into my eyes like no woman ever had and drained my blood right from the tip of my toe to the last drop in my brain. I closed my eyes. I could not face her anymore or anyone in the bus. She eased the hold on my collar. She took her leg from my body. My nerves relieved a bit. “Do you know me?” Her voice was soft this time, “do you have any idea what kind of a person I am and what all I am capable of in my own means?” She softened a bit more and took her hands off my collar. “Have you ever given a thought what it means to be a woman? Do you ever think of woman as a woman and not as your object of desire?” After a pause, she continued, “don’t treat me as you would like me to be. Treat me as a human being. As an individual born from a womb just like you were.”

                I did not open my eyes. I feared I would send her into fits of anger again if I said something. I could sense her getting up. I felt her cold hands in the prickly beard on my cheeks. She lisped into my ears, “See you.” I slowly opened my eyes. I felt scorched. The sun was blazing on our bus and on me. I had a cramp in my left foot. We were going uphill. I looked around. No one was staring at me. No young lady was in sight. I looked at my watch. It was forty minutes past twelve. The kid was singing some feel good song. I pulled out the kerchief from my pocket, dabbed my face and sat as if nothing had happened.