Hello and welcome back to Happy Hours with Shukla. It’s story time again.
Year 2005
Personally, I was slowly and steadily creeping towards the end of thirties. My weight was accelerating at a much faster pace, much to my dismay. Living in constant state of denial, I started giving myself regular pep-talks about how age is just a number and a few kilos gained are actually sign of prosperity. From image makeover (short hair, short skirt, body-hugging tees, gym, swim, etc.) to partying hard, I did everything to look and feel young. But my age and weight graph kept inching higher.
Professionally, I was working for a financial company responsible for credit training and quality check. I thought it was an honest job profile but enlightenment came much later when someone pointed out that it was nothing better than a “glorified fingering” job. Yeah! it hurts to be rubbished thus, but what to do friends, one needs to earn in order to pay their bills. So I kept on with my “fingering”.
The company was expanding rapidly, resulting in higher demand for training. To fulfill this demand, I was constantly travelling. Mode of travel was dependent on the distance covered, cost and availability. Once, we scheduled two back-to-back trainings in two different cities (Pune and Mumbai). Two choc-a-bloc full days per training. Though the schedule was a bit hectic - I was ok with the plan. Anything to prove that I am young and kicking!!! Distance between the two cities was roughly 150 kms, a mere 4 hours journey by road. Enough time to finish Pune training by evening, hop on a cab and reach Mumbai before mid-night. I was confident about catching few hours of sleep to recharge my batteries before starting the next training session.
Everything went off fine on Day 1 at Pune. But on Day 2, the training finished later than usual. Then, the sales team wanted advice on some big-ticket loan application. On top of that, a dear friend of mine turned up to say hello. I was meeting him after a loooong time. So naturally we lost track of time, while catching up over a cup of “coffee” at the nearby happening-joint. When we finally returned to the branch office, it was closed for the day. The pre-booked cab was nowhere in sight. Worse, all the local contact numbers in my possession turned out to be landline numbers of the branch.
Only option left was to board an overnight bus which was no big deal except for one major flipside. It was already 10.30 p.m. which means my arrival at Mumbai will be somewhere between 2-3 a.m. There I will be at the mercy of local cab or an auto-rickshaw driver to safely transfer me to my hotel. For a girl travelling alone from one strange city to another, it was perhaps a risky option. More so, if she was excessively drowned in “coffee”. But I used to thrive on such challenges, riskier the better - so blame it on my not-so-youthful impulsiveness. My friend, who was equally reckless, drove me to the bus terminal. One bus was scheduled for departure within 15 minutes and I succeeded in securing a seat. After saying our goodbyes, I boarded the bus.
It was one of those luxury bus with cushy comfortable seat, cutained windows, blankets, bottled water and television set behind the driver’s seat for entertainment. It was a great relief to step inside the chilled interiors of the bus as the weather outside was extremely hot and humid. My seat was at the fifth row - window seat. The bus was full except for my seat and one next to it. I got few curious stares but nothing that can be termed as indecent. Still, I felt a bit rattled and started wondering, for the first time, whether it was a wise decision to travel like this. I was also dreading about my co-passenger, hoping that by some miracle the seat next to me remain empty throughout the journey.
I know it’s a selfish thought but I would much rather be selfish than suffer unwanted attention from a self-styled casanova. Previous travelling experiences taught me that few male co-passengers deliberately fall on you while pretending to be asleep and often end-up touching you inappropriately. When you try to shake them off, one of the two things would happen. First - they may apologize, straighten back and then again fall on you pretending to be asleep. Two - they may pretend to be so deep in sleep that they would end up securing a much more comfortable position somewhere at the upper portion of your body.
Seconds before the departure, someone almost rushed in to occupy the seat next to me. Overhead lights were switched off at that very moment as the bus started moving. In that intervening moment, all I noticed was a half-covered face of a timid-looking woman with a sleeping toddler in one shoulder and a small bag hanging from the other. Relieved, I turned towards the window and closed my eyes. After negotiating the city streets for almost an hour, the bus finally hit the highway. The road was clear and the bus picked up speed. All this time, the lady was quiety sitting next to me. Slowly, I started relaxing and the tiredness of a long day made my eyes heavy with sleep. I was leaning on my tightly clutched purse and laptop bag as a make-shift pillow.
Hovering between dream and reality, I felt someone tugging at my shirt. Reluctantly I opened my eyes and was instantly hit by two entreating eyes. The toddler, a girl child, now fully awake was smiling at me, a toothless smile, and raising her small chubby hands as if she wanted me to take her in my arms. Her embarassed mother tried to apologize and shift her from one thigh to another. But the kid was looking at me hopefully.
It was hard to resist her angelic face and toothless smile. Throwing caution to the wind, I opened my arms for the kid. With a whoop, she flew out of her mother’s lap straight in my arms. Once settled, she started exploring her new perch. i.e. me. My eyes, glasses, nose, ears, earrings, lips, - everything was subjected to close scrutiny. When she felt bored, she turned towards my purse and laptop bag. After fiddling with the zipper’s for sometime, she then turned her attention towards the window. The whizzing lamp-post and the passing truck caught her attention. Squeeling with delight, she pressed her face to the window and started enjoying the outside view. I went back to my earlier sleep-induced state while drawing a strange sense of strength from the hypnotic baby smell.
I must have dozed off again, because I woke up to an extremely wet feeling. Hot liquid coursing through my lap indicated that my little guest had peed on me. I yelled in protest and stood up holding the startled kid away from me. Every body started looking at me strangely. Well!! they are justified in their reaction. Imagine being pulled out of a nice dream by some hysterical woman just because she was peed on by an infant. Red with embarassment, I sat back on my now wet seat. Startled by my weird tarzan act, kid was yelling at the top of her voice. Her embarassed mother was torn between apologizing to me and trying to shush her child. It was then that I heard the name, “Uma”.
Back home, I used to look after my little cousins since I was barely six year old myself. Even though I was comfortable with kids, being peed on my expensive work clothes was an experience I could have done without. Whatever happened to baby diapers?? Still in shock, I risked a glance towards my little co-passenger, Uma. Ruffled and offended, she was hiding her face in her mother’s bossom. Oh no!! she was actually taking a feed. Little imp, after discharging so much liquid, was actually filling her stomach with some more. With a huff, I tried to turn my face towards the window when I first noticed the deformity.
Uma’s mother was trying to change her knickers without much success. Uma was leaning on her good hand. The other hand, which she was moving awkwardly, was covered with angry old burn marks. Feeling ashamed of my almost theatrical behaviour a minute back, I tried to help her with the cleaning up and knicker changing process. In return, I got a shy smile from her. “Thank you. She is allergic to diapers”, she said, “I am sorry, I should not have let her sit on your lap. She ruined your clothes.” I heard myself saying, “no problem. It happens - no big deal.” We spent the next half an hour in companionable silence.
Soon, the bus stopped for a scheduled 15-minute break at some mid-way restaurant. It was one of those fast-food joint with a decent looking ambience and rest-room for freshening up. One by one, all the passengers got down from the bus. Everyone gave me a curious look before moving towards the exit gate. Clearly, they haven’t forgotten my earlier indiscretion. I can almost see the words written in their face - CRAZY woman. I felt my ears burning from embarassment. I was dying to go to the rest-room but decided to stay put. Uma had some other plans. She started gurgling and coo-ing at all the passengers. Stretching her arms towards them, she started straining to break free from her mother’s arms. No one took notice of her inspite of her entreating eyes. Heartless!!!
Defeated, she looked at me beseechingly and smiled. God!! This one is surely going to drive some man crazy in a few years. She is a pro in turning her charm quotient. You are right!!! Sucker that I was, I fell for it. I tried to convince myself that I am getting down only due to my bloated bladder but deep down I knew it was just partly true. Me, Uma and Urvashi (yeah!! we exchanged each other’s name by now) finally got down from the bus. I was holding Uma in my arms alongwith my purse and laptop, softly coo-ing to her. Urvashi was following us with her bag on her shoulder. We were the last one to get down. The driver and the helper were throwing nasty look our way. I guess, we were holding them up with our indecision.
We went straight to the rest-room and took turns in relieving ourselves as someone was required to keep an eye on Uma and our belongings. When we came out of the rest-room, our co-passengers were still loitering around the dining area. We went to the food counter and ordered some sandwitches. Uma was looking longingly at the ice-cream counter but her mother decided to put her foot down. The disgusted look on Uma’s face turned us into a couple of giggling teenagers. Fifteen minutes passed quickly. While we were enjoying ourselves, other passengers were looking at us as if we had gone completely nuts. Ignoring them, we finished our food and came back to occupy our seats in the bus.
Second half of the journey finished quickly. Uma was fast asleep safely nestled between me and Urvashi. Most of the passengers were fast asleep. Some were watching a movie being played on the idiot box. I was not feeling sleepy neither was I in a mood to watch a movie. Ditto with Urvashi. We started talking. Random stuff. I told her about my family, my job and my purpose of visit to this part of the country. She told me about her family and her life. Urvashi was an only child of a retired government employee. She was visting her parents at Pune and is currently residing in Mumbai with her husband. Conversation somehow turned towards her marriage.
“I was nineteen when I fell madly in love. Our marriage date was fixed for the month after diwali. On diwali night, a freak fire burnt our home to cinder. I almost died that day. When I was rescued, one side of my body and face was badly burnt. When my fiance saw my disfigured face, he refused to marry me.” At this point, she started crying softly. I felt awkward and unsure about how to comfort her. Wisely, I kept quiet.
She composed herself with much difficulty and continued with her story. Her current husband, also her immediate neighbour at Pune, offered to marry her on the same day. He was always in love with her but was hesitant earlier he felt he was not as well-accomplished as her. After their marriage, he shifted to Mumbai for better earning prospects. By her tone, it was apparent that she was happy in her married life.
Soon, we reached our destination. It was exactly 3 a.m. The bus stopped under a flyover. One side of the road was lined with cabs and the other side was lined with auto-rickshaws. Urvashi’s husband was coming to pick her up at the other side of the road. I helped her in carrying Uma while crossing the road together. I was secretly hoping for a lift from her to my hotel. But nothing like that happened. She nudged me towards an auto-rickshaw standing away from the rest of the ricks and told me to go-ahead while she waits for her husband. I was feeling uncomfortable about taking a rick at this time.
So, I said, “Look it is late. I am not too comfortable about taking a rick at this hour. If it is not too much of a trouble, can you drop me to my hotel”
I realized immediately that I have put her in a spot. Urvashi looked tensed as well sad. She tried to cover it up by saying, “Sorry Didi. Our vehicle is not big enough to accomodate all of us. Don’t worry. I know that rick-guy very well. He is a nice family man. He will drop you safely to your hotel. It was a pleasure meeting you. Goodbye.”
I was stunned. How can she dismiss me in such a callous manner? Without looking back, I marched towards the rick that she indicated. I even thought of ignoring her advice and taking another rick just to spite her. But better sense prevailed and I approached the rick. The guy was aware of the location of the hotel and agreed to drop me. Feelings can be such a bitch sometimes. Inspite of all the anger, I turned towards Uma and Urvashi one last time. They were standing exactly where I had left them a minute back with an identical sad expression in their face. I can almost feel the sadness emanating from both of them. I lifted my arm for a final farewell and then got inside the rick.
Entire journey from the bus stop to the hotel, I kept on crying. Except for their names and a few hours together, they were complete strangers. Then why am I hurting so much inside? It could be the dormant motherly heart which was pining for Uma. Or, it could be the over-protective feeling towards Urvashi that was bothering me. But, deep down I knew it was her quick dismissal which was bothering me the most. The driver stopped the rickshaw right in front of the hotel entrance. The charge as per the meter showed Rs. 89/-. I gave him a hundred rupee note and started walking towards the hotel interiors.
I was already inside the hotel foyer when I heard the rick-guy calling me. Reaching him, I asked a bit tersely, “Any problem.”
In the process of taking out his wallet, auto-driver said, “No problem, madam. You left without taking back your change.”
I was surprised by his behaviour as anyone else would have just kept the change for themselves. On the verge of saying “keep the change”, my eyes fell on his wallet. It was an ordinary looking well-used wallet. But my eyes were fixated on something else - a family photograph.
“Madam…. your change,” the driver was saying, but I just kept standing there like a statue. Something in my face must have alerted the driver to my condition, “Madam… are you ok.”
I just pointed a finger towards the photograph. Driver looked at the photograph and instantly became sad. Handing me the change, he started walking towards the rickshaw.
Somehow I found my voice, “Please tell me… who are they”.
“My wife, Urvashi and daughter, Uma. They died three years back in a road accident while travelling on the same route” and he drove off.
Thank you for reading the story. We will surely meet again with another one. Good night and sleep well!!
Copyright:
Story by Shukla Banik
Art-work by Pampa Banik
