Where Life takes Me

Cold. Just dry cold. I convince myself to stay put for a few minutes, and the bus will come any minute now. But I know it will take time. Frustration, panic, anxiety, and whatnot. I just want to go back to my house and tuck myself into my warm and cosy bed. No fear, no worry. Just solitude in my paradise. I was alone waiting for a bus, which I was not even sure would arrive. I am so naive, honestly. I just believed a random person to wait here for the bus.

Nizamabad is the right place I should be taking the bus, but here I am some sixty odd kilometres away on a deserted bus stop on the side of the highway. Barely any cars go by. Most of them are trucks. Maybe I should just sleep here. Not like I would lose anything. I am a tad broke. But I did not look like one, and God forbid, if I go missing no one would know. I am scared.

Finally, the sound of the bus roaring in the silent night brings me hope. I can tell the noise of a Volvo from anywhere, especially today. I go onto the curb and wave my hand. The indicator turns on and the bus slows down until it is off the highway and onto the bus stop. I am relieved. I board the bus, talk about my destination, pay the requisite amount with all that I have left with, and settle at my seat. The shivering cold just becomes a thing in the past.

I wake up from the jerk of the bus. It moves slowly through the narrow roads thanks to the roadworks. We were diverted from our original route onto some narrow and dirty roads. I hear the driver yell at someone asking for directions. I am lucky in the AC bus; I do not have to breathe this stench. The walls are covered with pan spit, garbage, and random covers of plastic waste on the side. I see someone peeing openly and shamelessly on the side. Early morning, maybe 5, where I should have arrived at the bus stand, I am here stuck. Maybe an hour of re-routing, we finally reach the main road.

I alight the bus at 6. MGBS - platform 16. I hear the noisy people, some carrying crying babies, some just wandering. I am just watching all of it. I go to the washroom to freshen up. You know how disgusting it is; the worst part is I am charged 5 bucks! The crowd seems less. I make myself comfortable at the bench and watch the world around me. It somehow feels pleasant; maybe for me it’s a nostalgia.

I check the money I have- 500 Rupees. It will not take me anywhere. But I can survive for a day. I make my way to the waiting area. It was empty thanks to the new initiative to charge per hour for using this service. I sat there looking at the watch which was at striking sharp 7. I just wish I could sleep here but the guard told me not to, he said I will be fined.

The lady at the ticket counter said that at eight-thirty the bus to Bengaluru would arrive. With the current money I have I surely cannot afford an AC bus. Non-AC was my only option. I remember my uncle told me super luxury is affordable, so I bet on it for now. I just have to kill time right now.

The TV turned on, which was run on local cable. Morning movies are boring, and for some reason, just Naaptol keeps playing all morning. The news was being played. It was Telugu news, which I did not really understand. I could converse, but not understand in the formal sense. It was boring. Suddenly, a man stepped in with huge luggage and a suitcase. He seemed to be in his twenties, skinny and tall. He wore an oversized T-shirt which was screaming RCB, track pants, and a pullover. I assume he will sit somewhere far off, especially given the number of seats. However, of all the places he could have sat, he chose the one to my immediate right!

This is where pressure comes on me. Since he came here, I oblige myself to start a conversation with him. So, I begin to formulate a question, but what should it be? Weather would be too absurd if he is not from here, or I can ask where he’s headed— but that would be too cliché. I cannot change my place; otherwise, I’d give the impression that I was made uncomfortable, and that might make things worse. I look at him and find him to be subsumed in that phone of his. Yep, I was swept away in my overthinking. I am such a knucklehead!

I just relaxed into my seat.

"Hi, excuse me," that guy makes the first attempt! "Do you know when the next bus to Bengaluru comes?"

I think for a moment before realising that I know what he is looking for and I say it: "At eight-thirty there is this bus that goes directly to Bengaluru." He thanks me and goes back into his phone.

I do the very next thing after a ridiculous conversation like this— unnecessary analysis. So, he comes into this waiting area, sits in the seat for twenty minutes as though he knows it all, and then asks such a foolish question; foolish because that was a fundamental thing he ought to know, and here I am calling myself a knucklehead! Maybe he did not want to risk his luggage, but still does not justify his laxity, and what would his reaction be had I known nothing? And, most importantly, why in the world am I so worried about this weirdo?!

Anyhoo, I ask him about his travel: “By the way, where are you headed?” He looks at me with that unexpected look, like bruh! C’mon. “I am going to Bengaluru. I had come here for a trip to Hyderabad.” I simply nod, not knowing what to say further. We fall silent after that terrible conversation.

I take a quick walk around. I notice the changes this bus stop has undergone. There used to be just a shabby, disgusting, and ill-maintained; especially the trash was all over the place and the unbearable stench. The transformation was phenomenal- barely any trash, clean platforms, screens displaying the busses, and timely announcements. I come back to the waiting area and find it crowded. There are a bunch of people who had just arrived, but that RCB guy was missing. I see the clock which was eight-twenty-nine! I hurry to the platform which is not too far. I make it on time. There are so many people awaiting the bus- some have pre-booked and some have not, and I fall in the latter.

As I look around, I do not see that guy. Maybe he found another bus, or perhaps decided to catch a different one. The bus finally arrives. It takes a big turn and slowly rests on the edge of the platform, parked exactly within the lines. The madness of the crowd is sickening, they charge right into the tiny door meant for an individual. People pushed their bags, some just shove themselves in, and I am just crushed there. I then put in the energy and push them like they did, and pierce right through the noisy crowd, into the door and step up into the bus.

You know there is a notion about India that people lack basic civic sense, and I can vouch for that. Literally, they threw their kerchiefs, flowers, random bags, chips packed, and underwear... UNDERWEAR! Are you serious? What the hell!

I settle for the penultimate window seat. I am relieved from the tension to grab the seat. I see others waiting for another bus which would take an hour more, and I would hate to be there. It does feel pleasant to watch but not to be in there. Then all the "Nawabs" who reserved seats come back into the bus. And finally I found out the underwear guy, and it was none other than that RCB guy! Anyways this bus will take a good eight hours. I just have to accommodate and adjust. All that is left is a six-hundred kilometres and I will be home!