12 Hours In A Tower

I

The bus driver was tired. Shutting the engine down, he signaled the supervisor to keep a look out for the traffic jam while the big man beside him snored loudly.

In the corner of that broken bus, an 18 year old Tanveer Islam, recently retired from a stressful exam, was on the journey to the International Airport.

He took a deep breath, trying not to wake the old woman beside him, wondering to himself how anyone could doze off in this unbearable heat.

He too was exhausted–studying for nights on end with nothing but bathroom breaks and a 3 time meal to survive.

And the next day, the moment after a 3 hour test, he had to endure uncertain hours in a traffic jam that stretched miles across the city. They were stuck in front of that traffic signal for what felt like days.

You see, people here had never ever seen the red signal. Puffing smoke in the air, scattering dust across the lanes that bustled with little stalls by roadside beggars who proudly called themselves 'businessmen', the people of this city still couldn't read the traffic light.

So they would stop only when the traffic officer tapped on the car in the front row.

Tanveer cast his eyes about the bus; upon a woman’s lap perched a small child, clutching a crinkled polythene bag as though it were a rare treasure.

Just then, the bus jerked violently as the driver restarted the engine.

Tanveer felt hopeful again. But not everyone in the bus felt the same. The woman beside him jerked awake like the engine.

And the little girl retched, spilling sour contents onto her frock and her mother's creased pajamas.

As the stench reached his nostrils, he remembered words from an article he had been reading on the way,

Essentially, seeing someone else vomit can trigger a cascade of psychological and physiological responses that might make you feel sick too, even if you haven’t ingested anything that would normally make you vomit.

He turned his sight away and took out his old android phone; almost a decade old, 'the second model of Samsung' as his father proudly bragged.

Dear Mr.Islam,

We are happy to announce that you are selected for the Summer Scholarship Program (SSP). Please arrive at Silicon Tower, 3400 Water Street NW, Washington DC at sharp 9 AM. We value punctuality. Latecomers will be eliminated. Thank you for your understanding.

Best,

SSP

[This message has been automatically generated. Replies to this address will be automatically deleted.]

With a flick of his finger, the gallery lit up—the Reddit threads, the half-written texts that never added up. Still, they had the power to rob him of sleep, not for nights but for months.

Tanveer kept the phone in his pocket, a smile creeping up his thin lips as the supervisor called,

"Farmgate! Farmgate!"

With a last glance at the battlefield of nausea, Tanveer pushed his way out, brushing past a sea of women in black burqa.