Tulasi Kalyanam Love story of two strangers

The private bus stopped again, much to his annoyance. He was ready to scold the driver, but then he noticed new passengers boarding. His gaze skipped over everyone else, drawn only to a beautiful girl, her face partially obscured by a mask. A faint smile touched his lips as he watched her gracefully struggle with her bag, pulling it up the steps. Suddenly, a young man, almost like a hero in a tale, stepped forward, took her bag, and placed it on the bus’s overhead rack. He mused inwardly about how quickly men rush to help a lovely lady without being asked. His irritation softened, and he settled back into his seat. “Sir, seat number six?” the girl’s melodious voice inquired. “Seat number six? That’s mine,” he thought, imagining how wonderful it would be to displace the snoring passenger beside him and have her sit there instead. She walked past him, a fleeting presence, then settled beside an old woman two seats away. “Looks like I’ll be enduring this snore-fest all night,” he sighed, inserting cotton into his ears and gazing out the window. It was 2 AM, and the bus was winding through fields.

The bus eventually halted near a small roadside stall nestled amidst the fields. “Anyone for the washroom?” the driver called out. He decided to stretch his legs, stepping off the bus and leisurely lighting a cigarette. Surrounded by vast fields and a quaint stall, he thought, “This isn’t even a highway, why do I care?“. Finishing one cigarette, he lit another, savoring the quiet moment.

“Sir, sir?” A soft voice, unmistakably hers, made him turn. It was the girl he had noticed earlier.

“Sir, could you please bring me some juice or fruit?” she asked gently.

“Don’t you have a mouth or legs? Go get it yourself!” he snapped, his earlier softened mood vanished. The girl was momentarily stunned. She glanced around and pointed the huge crowd of men around the stall, then explained, “No, sir, there are quite a few men around. You’re taller, you might be able to get through more easily, that’s why I asked you”. She then turned to ask someone else.

“Alright, I’ll get it,” he grumbled, snatching the money from her hand. He walked towards the stall, wondering why there would be juices or fruits there. To his surprise, he found two local brand juices. “Hey, there are local brands. Will you drink them?” he called out.

“No fruits,” he retorted, surprised she’d even ask for them at a roadside stall. “Only juice. Will you drink it or not?”.

“Does it taste good “

He snapped,” Do you think I am the factory’s daily labour who packs the juce?”

“Please, just get whatever they have,” she responded with resignation. Just then, two more buses arrived suddenly, disgorging a crowd that swarmed the tiny stall.

As the stall owner began to list the juices patiently “Sir, we have orange, mixed fruit, and guava. What would you like?“.

The girl asked him, “Do you know which one is good?“.

“Do you think I’d be here drinking them every day. Just tell me what you want quickly,” he replied, perhaps a little too sharply. “Just pick one,” she sighed.

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” he muttered, then asked for a mixed fruit juice. He paid, and seeing the stall owner struggling with change, he simply said, “Keep it, no need for change.” Grabbing the bottle, sensing their bus might depart soon, he handed it to the girl.

He took two steps towards where the bus should have been, but it was gone. “What happened to the bus?” he demanded.

The girl, who had been focused on opening her juice bottle, looked up in surprise. “Oh dear, where is the bus?” she asked.

“Hey, you were right here, didn’t you see it?” he retorted.

“What do you mean, sir? I didn’t see it. It seems the bus has left,” she said, her voice tinged with worry. The young man rushed to the road, spotting their bus disappearing in the distance.

“Oh no!” he exclaimed, quickly pulling out his phone to dial. No connection. He realized there was no network. “Check your phone for a signal!” he urged her.

The girl, like a heroine in a slow-motion scene, calmly reached into her handbag for her phone, much to his rising frustration. The moment she produced it, he snatched it, only to find no signal on her device either. “Oh, what do we do now?” he despaired. She stood by the road while he ventured into the nearby trees, holding both phones, desperately trying to find a signal. Meanwhile, the other two buses also started their engines and drove away.

“Hey, hey, stop those buse!” he shouted, turning to the girl on the road.

She looked at him with wide, bewildered eyes. “But sir, those aren’tour buses? Would they stop for us?” she asked. Before she could even finish, those two buses, too, vanished from sight.

“Hey, where did you even come from?” he fumed. “If we had just boarded those buses, we could have caught ours or at least gotten off somewhere else. Look around! It’s like a jungle! There’s no light anywhere except this stall, and no village nearby. You’re utterly useless!” he muttered, still checking his phone, wishing for a signal. As he had described, it truly felt like a wilderness; only the stall’s dim light pierced the encroaching darkness.

The girl shivered, her fear palpable as she scanned the surroundings. Noticing her distress, he gently took her hand holding her wrist “What’s wrong? Are you feeling dizzy?” he asked, observing her closely ,checking her pulse at wrist.

“Yes, I am,” she replied softly. “Haven’t you eaten anything? You shouldn’t travel on an empty stomach,” he questioned.

“Iam fasting?” she clarified. She tried to open her juice bottle, muttering, “Even if you feel dizzy, fast shouldn’t be broken?Who would tell such stupid things to you!” he shouted at her foolishness. He gently took the bottle from her, opened it, and offered it back. She took a sip, her face twisting in distaste.

“Is it bad?”he asked.he asked her to remove the mask so she could breathe more easily. she removed and he finally saw her beautiful face in awe.

“ It tastes awful. Is there another flavor?” she asked, her voice faltering.

“Everything here tastes the same; these are all local brands. Just drink something, you look like you’re about to collapse,” he grumbled, though his concern was evident. As she considered discarding juice bottle, his words made her pause, fearing his reaction. “Drink it,” he insisted gently, and she reluctantly took another gulp.

Taking her hand, he led her to the stall owner. “Sir, we missed our bus. Are there any vehicles available here, even just to take us to the next bus stop?” he asked.

The stall owner replied, “Sir, this isn’t even a highway. Look, it’s just a dirt track. Buses come this way to avoid two toll booths. These are the last buses for tonight; no more will come until the same time tomorrow”. The stall owner began to pack up his belongings, preparing to close the small, ten-foot square shack.

They exchanged worried glances, wondering what to do next. He felt a surge of anger, but before he could utter a word, a distant jeep approached, blaring loud disco music and boisterous shouts. Instinctively, he grabbed the girl’s hand and swiftly pulled her inside the small stall, hiding her behind the door before the jeep’s occupants could see them. “Shh,” he whispered, gesturing for her to stay silent. The men in the jeep looked like troublemakers, alcohol bottles in hand. “Hey, give us some cigarettes!” one of them demanded. “How many do you want, brother? four and put it on my tab,” man shouted replied stall owner . The men smoked and drank alcohol there for about an hour, while he and the girl huddled silently, their hearts pounding.

The stall owner, oblivious to their presence inside, locked up his shop. “Hey, did you see anyone around here?” he asked the men.

“What? Are you drunk? No one’s here but you. Come on, let’s go,” one of them said, and they took the stall owner with them, driving away.