Thoughts in a Local Delhi Bus

The big monster of iron energy arrives. It stands in front of me in all its glory, spewing clouds of grey into the city air. The conductor scans the bus stop for prospective passengers. Soon, his gaze falls on me. He asks in hindi, “Madam, where do you want to go?". I do not know. The cars behind start blowing their horn. His voice drowns in the noise. The traffic lights turn green. I look at the green signal and then back at the bus. At the signal and then back again. Next thing I know I am on it and the bus speeds away.

The bus is jam packed. As I am standing there, I see a couple by the door engrossed in an affectionate conversation. The boy is looking down at her, his voice hushed and smooth. She is smiling meekly, her eyes never leaving his. They are in a cocoon, far away from the world. Just then, an old uncle-aunty get on the bus. They look the same – milky white hair, an almost toothless grin, deep wrinkles and a warm smile.The uncle fumbles through the ‘Shaktibhog Atta’ bag, placed at his feet,. They settle down and look out the window. Their hazy eyes seem to be lost in their own thoughts.

At the next stop, most passengers get down, leaving behind rows of empty seats. I choose the one next to the window. The window panes seem larger than before. Or maybe my eyes are just wider this time. Up ahead, I can see the conductor, screaming out the names of bus stops so loud that you cannot differentiate the words. But then again, if person knows where he wants to go, then he can comprehend every word. With his arms resting on the frame of the door, the conductor swings his body out of the bus, shouting at the other buses, and picking on the other conductors. His black mustache goes up and down as laughs heartily. The bus turns at great speed, but the conductor simply sways along with it. I wonder how many trips like this he would have made. Shuttling between places but never reaching anywhere. Yet, there is a sense of pride in whatever he does. A feeling of content, which I haven’t seen in the longest time.

I look out through the large window panes again. The evening Sun is about to set and the travelers are returning home. They are carrying with them stories of a day gone by. So many of these stories intersected in this bus today. It was easy to get lost in them. There existed a world which stretched far beyond me, encompassing wisdom that could only be noticed when I paused. I think I needed that green signal to find that out.