Hijab Stuck in a bus

The Bus Ride That Should Have Been Free Therapy

Zaynab Bilzer stood in the middle of the chaotic bus station, gripping her bag like a lost child in a supermarket. People shouted in Malayalam, buses honked like they were in a concert, and somewhere in the distance, a man was arguing with a goat.

This is India. This is my life now, she thought, adjusting her scarf. Why did I think this would be easy?

She squinted at a bus that had a sign written in beautiful, elegant Malayalam. It could say “University Road,” or it could say “Free Buffet Inside.” No way to know.

Just as she was about to perform Eeny, meeny, miny, moe with the buses, a voice behind her called out.

“Hey! You lost, little lady?”

She turned to see a man in his mid-thirties, dressed in a faded bus conductor’s uniform, leaning lazily against a pole. His hair was messy, his mustache was too confident, and his smile was way too relaxed for someone working in this madness.

“I... um...” Zaynab blinked. His Malayalam was too fast. She caught lost? and lady, which was not very helpful.

He switched to broken English. “You... where go?”

She sighed in relief. “University Road.”

“Ahhhh!” He grinned. “Bus here... or there... or maybe that one.” He pointed to three different buses.

Zaynab’s soul left her body for a second. “Are you joking?!”

The man grinned wider. “Little bit.”

Zaynab exhaled sharply. “Do you know where it is or not?!”

The man studied her with interest. “You... Arab?”

“Yes.”

“AH-HA! I know Arabic!” He puffed out his chest proudly. “Shukran! Yalla! Kif halik?”

Zaynab stared. “You lived in the Middle East?”

He nodded proudly. “Dubai. Seven year.”

“Okay, good. Then we can—”

“But my Arabic...” He winced, then switched to horrifyingly broken Arabic.

“Anti muskeenah fil bus—uhhh—malayalam mafi mafi shukran?”

Zaynab’s brain did a factory reset.

“What?”

“I say... eh... you lost, but Malayalam... no, yes?”

She blinked. “That’s not what you said.”

The man shrugged. “I try.”

Zaynab groaned. “Fine. Let’s just—”

“You speak Arabic fast,” he interrupted. “Slow.”

Zaynab was about to protest, but then he started speaking in Malayalam at lightning speed.

She threw her hands in the air. “No, YOU slow down!”

He grinned. “Okay, okay. I slow, you slow.”

This was already a disaster.

Boarding the Bus (A Mistake)

Vikram (she now knew his name because his shirt said “Vikram” in faded letters) led her to a bus.

“Sit!” he commanded cheerfully.

Zaynab hesitated. The bus looked... old. Like, held together by duct tape and hope old.

“Uh... this safe?”

“Eh... Inshallah.”

“What?!”

But before she could escape, the bus roared to life and took off like it was auditioning for Fast & Furious: Kerala Drift.

Zaynab flew into her seat. “OH MY GOD!”

Vikram, driving like he was in a racing game, turned back and gave her a thumbs-up.

“You okay, little lady?”

“NO!” she yelled, gripping the seat in front of her.

“Good!”

She closed her eyes as the bus swerved. “THIS IS ILLEGAL.”

“Eh, this is India!”

Language Problems (And Trust Issues)

After a few minutes of pure survival mode, Zaynab took a deep breath.

“Okay,” she said, calmer. “Teach me how to read Malayalam.”

Vikram glanced at her in the mirror. “You not know?!”

She glared. “No.”

He slapped the steering wheel laughing. “You sit in bus, don’t know read bus? HAHAHA! Wah! Super!”

“Vikram, I swear—”

“Okay, okay. I help.”

He pointed at the sign on the bus.

“This letter, ‘A’.”

Zaynab nodded. “Okay.”

“This letter, ‘Pa’.”

She nodded again. “Okay.”

“This letter... uhh... complicated. Forget it.”

“WHAT?!”

“Too much headache. Just read English.”

“THAT’S WHAT I WAS TRYING TO DO.”

Vikram cackled and hit the gas.

The Almost-Accident (Or, Why Zaynab Might Sue Vikram)

A cow suddenly appeared in the middle of the road.

“OH, SHOOT,” Zaynab screamed. “WATCH OUT!”

Vikram calmly honked. The cow did not move.

“Uh... Vikram?!”

“Wait, wait.”

He honked again. The cow stared at them, judging them.

“Why is it not moving?!”

Vikram sighed. “She thinking.”

“THINKING ABOUT WHAT?!”

“Life, maybe.”

Zaynab threw her hands in the air. “I’m going to die.”

Vikram finally turned the wheel and went around the cow.

“See? Easy.”

She glared. “You almost killed me.”

“No no, cow is boss. We wait.”

She shook her head. “I hate it here.”

Vikram grinned. “Welcome to India.”

A Moment of... Something

After the near-death cow experience, the bus ride was quiet.

Then, suddenly, Vikram asked, “You like India?”

Zaynab hesitated. “...I don’t know yet.”

He nodded. “Different, huh?”

“Very.”

Vikram smiled, but there was something thoughtful in his expression. “It grow on you.”

Zaynab looked out the window. The streets were busy, loud, colorful. A little chaotic. But maybe... maybe he was right.

She glanced at him. “You like Arab countries?”

He laughed. “Arab heat? No.”

She smirked. “Indian buses? No.”

He chuckled. “Fair, fair.”

For a moment, they just sat there, two strangers from two different worlds, united by the fact that neither of them understood each other properly.

And somehow, that made everything feel a little easier.

End of Chapter 1