A "Simple" Bus Journey

I had to travel by bus that day. It was, as usual, a sunny “Madras” noon. On reaching the bus stand, I jumped into the bus and grabbed the window seat on the front row, well I thought it would be easier to jump out in case there was a crowd, which again is very usual.

I sat in anticipation for the bus to start its ordeal. Beads of sweat poured down my forehead. In answer to my prayers, the driver climbed in and we were off at a crawling pace. I looked at the numerous people sitting around me. Noticed a band of ladies in their colourful “pattu” saris. Guessed they were to a marriage function. They “chittered chattered” the entire way through. I got bored looking at them. Turned around and saw an elderly man in deep slumber. I always wondered how people managed to do this. I could barely sit at ease in a bus, forget sleep.

My thoughts were broken when an old haggard lady jumped in at a stop. She had a basket of flowers. She came and sat besides me. She was reeking of some unknown odour. I held my breath for a second only to next breathe in a combination of the same and the withering flowers. I cursed myself for having chosen that seat. I, in a freshly washed and perfumed outfit, felt uneasy. But then I chose to look away and think of other things until my stop came.

I was deep in thought…I think I was thinking of some funny incident and smiling inwardly when suddenly I felt a nudge at my shoulder. I looked at her. Two broken blackened teeth formed a sweet smile on her face. She wasn’t that old, I then realized. She had her right hand put forth towards me. I looked down only to see a piece of stale plum cake in her hand. I politely declined in whatever Tamil words I could manage. She, happy that I had declined, happy that she could have the entire on her own, devoured the whole in her palms. Satisfied, she laid back in a nap.

My reactions… I was stupefied.... angry. Angry with myself. I hated the way I had thought about her just a few minutes back. She, poor as she may be, was ready to share what must have been her lunch. And me…… how many times have I tried to do that? How many times have I said no to beggars when they come across asking only for a rupee? How many times have I given the leftovers in a dish to a needy instead of throwing it into a bin? How many times????

The whistle broke through my thoughts and my neighbours sleep. I had to go, my stop had arrived. But before leaving I made it a point to smile at her. And the two blackened teeth smiled back.