Perfect blend of dark it
was. The bluntness of the situation was way too emotionally depressing.
Standing amidst many sleep deprived people made the situation even worse. The
bus was said to arrive at eleven thirty as portrayed by the timing boards put
up in the Tiruchy bus stand. Little mention was given about the tolerance level
of the timings. Government buses should prefer giving a tolerance of plus five
hours, preferably at night hours. The negative could of no chance be a concern.
Prostitutes at work were finding their soul mates for that night. My
crackerjack figure I guess kept those women away from me.
The busy city was
withdrawing its vigor as time progressed fast. People in the bus stand casually
started dissolving. My bus was yet to barge in. Coffee always injected a deep
sense of gusto within me, for a reason unknown. I moved towards the coffee shop
which had sexy posters of heroines put up at the bottom of the walls. For a moment
or two, enjoying the curves and gossips in those posters I embossed my voice
for a cup of coffee.
“Fourteen rupees” said the
guy who stood inside
I gave the change he asked
for. There was no one around to intrude the silence of the atmosphere. I took
the cup in my hand and shifted towards the place where I sat before. I felt a
strange connect behind me; it felt like some air at first that was hitting my
neck. The void ambiance was the reason I thought and moved. Looking down I
observed there was a shadow behind that was trying to seize my body. I recognized
the innocence of its walk. I was afraid to look back. It was pressing towards
me. I turned back with a sensation that could have killed my senses.
What I heard stopped my
mental plight for a minute. “Do you want an AC bus to Chennai? Just four fifty”
the voice said before I could turn back.
In a bid to respond to his
unearthly query “No. I have booked my ticket to Vellore. The bus is yet to
arrive” I said with frustration and relief, both racing into my blood with
force.
As he moved, I took my
seat in the bus stand that carried the sweat of my butt for the past three
hours. The watch showed five past two. The conference went smooth and my
company should be proud of my effort I thought. I was the sole person who
managed to get through the process to attend the seminar that could add a very
great applaud to my profile. Bizarre thoughts began to dwell, as my eyes
started to feel its vagueness. Half through the sleep process that occupied my
domain, a strong light flashed in front of my face. The horn sound woke the
tired part that was losing its way into peace. I re-fluxed my muscles to get up.
Finally the much
anticipated property of the government agreed to find its place three hours later
than its prevalent time. Picking my small luggage, I moved towards the bus that
looked very strange at that point of time. It looked like some force was
deliberately withholding its structure.
I went towards the door.
As I neared, the door slung open towards me in an abrupt manner. It could have
hurt, but my reflex was quick enough to engage my hands into motion.
“I guess the bus has
reached earlier than its timing” I winked at the conductor.
As he reviewed my ticket,
“Show me you’re ID card. It’s late already because of a gang war near Madurai.
Caste and religion turn people into unimaginable morons.” he said and checked
my ID as it was booked online.
I did the required. When
do we learn to be broad-minded? I thought about the gang fight near Madurai; as
I placed my baggage at the top I found my seat near the window. It was 13, the
seat number. An old man wheezing hard was near me. He was fast asleep like most
of the others. He looked like he had been deprived of proper care for the past
ten years. His wallet which looked as old as he was fell from his pocket to the
side of his seat. I left the wallet in its place and got accustomed to the seat
to drive its position to get a sound sleep. I saw the passengers at my back,
one or two tuning songs in their smart phones the rest were all hovering
between sleep and messages from their dear ones.
I switched my mind to lodge
in peace and slowly my eyes contracted firmly. The bus moved roughly on the
Indian roads that suffered from rain and improper maintenance. Once in a while
the lights of the toll booths illuminated over my face. Half an hour and sleep
preoccupied my senses madly.
When the subconscious mind
was attaining its pleasure, soft hands touched my shoulder later during that
night. I mechanized my eyes to open up, to find out what the old man wanted. I
looked at the watch to see that it was nearing four. The bus was halting in the
midst of a road shielded on either side with dark. I turned left towards him to
ask of how he could be helped.
The sight of what I saw
pierced my heart in horror. He was not there; his purse was lying in the same
place. I looked back. No one was around. Again when I looked near, I froze.
She was piercing her own
tattoo on her hand with a sharp metal, which I couldn't guess what it was. The
deadly sight plucked my soul within. I was afraid to look. Who was she?
“Why did you do that?” she
questioned me. Blood was per-fusing on her thighs. Half-dead, I picked my
courage to initiate a conversation.
As she constantly kept
asking the same question, she slashed the metal deep into her nerves. She made
it a loop.
“Who are you? Where is the
old man near me? What happened to the co-passengers?”I lined up my questions
randomly that came to my mind. The purse soaked itself in blood.
“Is that very much of your
concern?”
“It is and it should” I
said.
She limped down and
laughed wildly. Her name was perceptible on her hands on which she was piercing
the metal. The blood covered the tattoo, but the name was evident. I wanted it
to be a dream, realizing that it wasn't.
“Sins are meant to be
rewritten positively” She shouted. I dint get what she said. Her voice was
dominating.
“Sin? Shit.” She was in
her sixties, had a perfect structure and looked younger for her age. The swell
in her skin and color tone of her body seemed paranormal.
“So you’re the perfect
men. Is that what you mean?”
She wiped the blood that
dropped down her eyes. Her look was intimidating my nervousness.
“That tattoo, is that your
name?”
“It is and it should”
I was angry. Suddenly she
held my hands with impact. I couldn't refuse. She dragged me down the bus. I
was in no mood to appear in tomorrow’s papers as a death victim to a ghostly activity.
So I followed her, with thoughts profusely fighting within my mind.
All the people have
disappeared. The conductor laid there dead.
“What is happening to me?”
I asked myself with resentment.
“Let’s go. You need to
know who you are.”
Even souls hinder the
daily livelihood of people, I thought. The irony of life always throws
surprises at us. This time the surprise was huge enough to kill me. I was the
last one to be killed.
“Death is deadly. You
should understand this. Every life has a value and I am going to take yours to
balance the living cycle” her resonance in voice vibrated inside me.
We came down the bus. The
bus was standing near a bridge. The flowing waters sounded loudly and the
silence was giving a deadly synchronization to the situation. She caught my
hand; the blood from her hands flowed over mine. It was ugly.
She made me ascend on the
walls of the bridge facing the waters. My guess was absolutely wrong. She too
climbed the walls.
“Things are going to be
alright” she said. Contrary to what her lips uttered, she withheld my hands and
jumped. Death was in its way.
As the waters took us
inside, I began to lose my consciousness. The last few seconds that I managed
to hold, portrayed many visuals that seemed delicate and impractical. The line
of demarcation that stood between what I visualized and the outside world
seemed of no connect and my mind cataloged the happenings of the last few
seconds.
Gradually the colorless
nature of the water initiated to change and I was swimming to death in a pool
of blood. There was blood everywhere. I was searching for the women, who
brought me here. Everything seemed to be an abstract of everyday living. As it
pulled me inside, my legs touched against soft skin. I swiftly turned against
the force of the water and pushed my head forward. I saw animals that were jeering
in pain. I saw people mourning for their beloved. Caste prone people were
fighting among-st themselves.
Guys were molesting girls.
Different things appeared as I progressed through the last second. My last conscious
second was felt. Before my eyes could close, the sight of something locked my
breath. There were little dolls around. I realized that they were infants. It
was becoming tedious to count the number of babies. None of their eyes were
open. They dint see me. I saw one such child close to my sight, when I closed
my eyes forever. The cells of my body were settling down. They were merging
with death. As I was literally losing myself, a mammoth sound of a tap against
metal was felt at the side. The vibration through which I was going made me
agitated. My hands felt some leather. It was the purse of the old man. Fighting with faith, I opened my eyes with
heaps of difficulty. I saw the old man sleeping. It was a dream. I looked
around if I could find the old woman who preoccupied my senses. She was
nowhere. I came back to life.
In a quick reflex,
unknowingly I pushed the wallet to the bottom. Picking it up, I opened the
purse to keep the change that spilled. What I saw gave me the second dreadful surprise
for that day.
Shakhty, the woman with
the tattoo was smiling at me. She was his wife. Possibly she should have died
before years I presumed.
I took my mobile. It
showed four thirty. I unlocked the keypad and dialed the number. The ring was
heard so loud in my heart.
“Hello” I said.
“Aren't u asleep Akshay?”
my wives voice came to my savior. She was sad.
“Let’s have the child
Aiysha”
“Uhh? What? My wife was shocked.
I wanted to get established before having the child. My wife considered having the child instead of killing it.
“You mean so much to me.
Let’s not abort our first child. Our world would also include our child’s
presence. ” I said. Her voice resonated in unimaginable happiness.
Not only religion and
caste make people narrow minded; sometimes education too does sarcastically.
Her smile was enough to
interpret how happy she was.
“Love you” she said.
As I imagined about my little,
I cut her call and slept.