It was a regular day in my life.
I woke up in the morning to the sound of my mother's voice, which has proven to be, by far, the best alarm of the world. "What kind of a person are you? It has been almost a month since you have started working at your company. Can't you wake up a bit earlier? Is it that difficult for you to turn up 5 minutes before time, at your work? Wake up, you idiot!"
"Yeah...alright! I am up!" I said while brushing the hair out of my eyes and stifling a huge yawn.
Since starting work at this company, my relationship with sleep has steadily deteriorated. An average adult is supposed to have a sleep of 7-8 hours. Yeah, well, that's what is written in those books and blogs and magazines, but the harsh reality makes even 5 hours of sleep an impossibility. Well, let me have an independent write-up or drabble about the woes of my life! The point of this story being something else, let's proceed to the incident at hand.
I got out of my bed, brushed the tangles out of my hair, brushed my teeth, rinsed my mouth with the mouth-wash (I am very particular about teeth-care!), had a quick shower, put on my work clothes, wolfed down the breakfast my mother had prepared (She wakes up at 5, prepares breakfast for the entire family every day and goes to work after that! This woman is a superwoman!) and left for the company on my motorbike.
It was 8:30 a.m. in the morning, my company being about an hour's distance away from my home; I left exactly an hour before my reporting time. I really love riding my bike in the morning, earphones plugged into my ears, favorite songs playing, the slight cold invigorating my mind. Mornings on the roads of my city are the best possible time to ride a vehicle.
Well, all good things have to end. So, I reached the company at 9:30 a.m., parked my vehicle in the parking and walked up the steps to the lobby. There I swiped my ID card at the reception and proceeded through the corridor to my department or as I like to put it, to eternal hell! After working the entire day, having a break of about 45 minutes in between, I stumbled out the lobby at 4:30 p.m. in the evening.
I had nothing on my mind except to go home, grab my favorite snack, turn the T.V. on and relax on the couch. With those encouraging thoughts, I kicked the motorbike to life, drove through the driveway and turned my bike in the direction of my home. I had just passed the first intersection, when my bike began to sputter. It sputtered for a few seconds and came to a halt.
I tried kick-starting, but that didn't work. I tried using the ignition button, but that didn't work either. I had no idea what was wrong! I got down from the seat, brought the bike to the side of the road, propped it onto the main-stand and gave it a onceover. I checked the petrol tank, but the level was at reserve. I checked if all valves were turned on, so they were!
After a minute or two of thinking what to do, "What the heck!", I muttered under my breath and I pushed my bike back to the parking lot of our company, out of sheer exasperation. There were a few jeers and inconspicuous stares from people who yet had to get used to the fact of a woman riding a motorbike. I ignored all of that, no use spending my energy, which was already at the minimum.
I was really pissed off as I parked my bike in its spot. Not at the people laughing at me but at the fact that I was irritated at the end of the day and just wanted to go home and chill, which was now, a far dream!
Leaning down to turn off the petrol valves, I noticed some dark stains on the ground below my bike, which were quite fresh. I bent over, put a finger to the stains and smelt the dark stuff. Yep, it was petrol. I then looked at the engine in my bike! Sure as well, there was the transmission pipe, with a cut in its side. Some hoodlums had cut the pipe, extracted petrol and left it cut. I looked around to find the watchman, but he was dozing off in his check-post hut. No use speaking with him! I made it a point to file a complaint about my vehicle and without wasting any further time or energy, left the company premises and crossed the road to wait at the bus-stop.
The bus going my way came a good 20 minutes later. By the time I climbed in after jostling through a lot of people, I was totally exhausted, drained and not to mention irritated! I hate travelling by the bus! No convenience, no time-saving and no comfort and not to mention, no adequate supply of oxygen! I found a place to stand and stood there for about 30 seconds when the person on the seat in front of me, made a move to get off. I quickly sat in the seat and heaved a sigh of relief! I paid my fare and received the ticket from the conductor.
Till that time, I was almost sure that the interiors of the bus had 90 % of CO2 and a measly 10 % of O2!
It was really suffocating and nauseating! I wanted a window-seat! Well, that wish of mine was granted soon, too! The person sitting beside me got off at the next bus stop! I happily shifted on to the window seat! I settled down for a long ride till my house which was near the last stop of the bus route.
I have this habit of observing everything around me when I am out to travel long distances, so, naturally I looked out the window at the passing buildings, trees, vehicles, etc.
Eventually, getting bored of that, I turned my attention back to the inside of the bus. There was a rather goony-looking guy next to me, speaking loudly to his equally goony-looking friends who were standing near the seat holding on to the handles. They were speaking about someone and I was pretty sure I heard one or two cuss words thrown in between.
Not wanting to improve my knowledge in that department, I turned my attention to the seat in front of me.
There was an old man, sitting on the window seat, clutching a sky blue bag of plastic in one hand and a paper bag having some fruit in the other. He was clutching and holding onto the blue bag as if his life depended on it. Maybe, he had some valuable in it!
I glanced at the person on his side, a young man, probably a few years over 20. He seemed to me a quiet, shy type of person, wearing a sweatshirt, holding his backpack on his lap, typing something on his smartphone, adjusting his spectacles once in a while. I watched the old man and the young man for some time and then resumed my observation of the roadside.
After a few stops, the old man stood up, clutching his bags to his chest and moved out of the seat, to stand near the trio of the goony guys, who refused to move aside to let him hold onto the handles hanging from the bus's ceiling. Having no other option, he held onto the bar of my seat with one hand while holding both the other bags in the other hand. He seemed to want to get off at the next stop. The bus swerved around a corner, making the old man lose his balance, crash into the goony guys and lose his hold on his precious blue bag, which fell down to the floor of the bus. The fruit bag also fell down; scattering 2 of the fruit which I then saw were apples.
The trio burst out laughing at the old man, while the young man silently stood up and helped the old man with both of his bags. He then sat down and went back to typing on his phone. All of the people in the bus glared at the trio while sharing appraising nods looking at the young man. The old man thanked the young man, moved to the front of the bus and got down at the next stop.
The trio too went ahead after the old man and got off the bus at the next red light at the traffic signal.
A woman with a baby came to sit next to me. I looked out of the bus again and we passed two more stops.
At the third stop however, the old man of earlier, jumped down from an auto-rickshaw and entered the bus shouting at the top of his lungs, "Oi!!!! I have lost gold jewelry worth 20,000 INR that I had in this blue bag of mine! Who has taken it?" The people looked at each other, no one saying anything as obviously, no one knew anything!
The old man was exasperated. There was a hunted look in his eyes which I noticed were very red. He had probably not slept for a long time or had cried his eyes out. "Please return my money!!! Please! My wife is in the hospital! This money was for her surgery! Please return it to me!" he begged to the crowd in the bus. After noticing that no one was replying him, he started crying his heart out. His voice pierced my heart! This man had reached his last straw!
"It must be the trio of the boys earlier who has stolen your money! They got off right after you!" said a man in the opposite seat across from me!
"Yes! It must be them. They were so rowdy and uncouth!” added a woman sitting next to him!
The entire crowd in the bus nodded assent to this and advised the old man to go back to the stop that he had got off at and look for those goons! The old man, seeing no other option, got off the bus, crying all the time and ran in the direction of the previous stops, with, I noticed just out of coincidence, not even a pair of shoes on his feet! I really felt very bad for the man, and was wondering what I could have, rather should have done for him, when I received a call from my mother, asking me why I was late! I told her about the incident of my bike and that I was on the way back on a bus. She told me to get some leafy vegetables for the bhaaji (vegetable preparation) to be prepared for supper, while coming back! I sighed and told her that I would get it from the greengrocer's near our home! Satisfied with my answer, she then disconnected the call. With that, I resumed my observation of the public in the bus. The entire bus was abuzz about how the world had lost all of its humanity, how no one could be trusted and people's versions of how the trio had stolen the old man's jewelry.
We reached the last stop after about half an hour and all of us lined up near the front of the bus to get off. I was the last in the line with the young man with the sweatshirt before me. I was wondering about how people could be so heartless as to steal from a senior citizen and bumped into him unintentionally, to which I instantly muttered an apology which was responded to equally promptly by him, also with an apology.
The crowd got off and I was getting off the bus when I glanced at the young man who had piqued my interest.
The person in question, moved out of the shade offered by the bus-stop and my eyes caught the glint made by something poking out of his sweatshirt pocket.
It was then that I realized that the setting sun was shining upon gold!