It could have been another sunny day except for the grey coloured clouds which like a hollow brick blocked the sun rays. I am sitting inside a not so crowded bus and looking at the sky.
Will it rain? Here, it either rains or cloudy. There is a dampness everywhere. Heck..
Is umbrella in my bag?
Last time it rained and i kept my umbrella in the common area to not wet my office space. Did I take it back?
No...
Yes.... I took it. I remember carrying it and running to catch the evening bus.
No this happened week before that. During last rain, the evening was quite sunny and I was having a relaxed walk with my colleague till bus stop... A pleasant weather for which I was longing..
May be I have to check it in office ....
Oh.. I have to drop the rent cheque. Its still in my bag.. Its already a week late.
It all because of the issue in office. Sometimes I am just staring at the results paper as if it will disclose something which is hiding behind all those numbers. What all I need is deus ex machina ...
shit....How long I am staring this man? When did he take this seat? I just looked into the bus. Bus is almost full. I smiled at him. He was tall well built guy in a shabby clothes. There is mild liquor smell over him.
"Where are you from?"
I am from alameda. May be I should have told him India. That's what he might want to know.
"I am from ....... I used to play basketball in college" and he pointed the logo in t-shirt. "This place is always raining and more crowded..Back there..."
I am having little trouble in following his accent. It is more rhotic and cocky. His eyes are fixed at me. He is asking something.
" Why are you here?"
mm..I got a ...
He continued not waiting for my answer. "We have to be somewhere and this is not so bad place.."
The stop had come so I ran to get down and it started to drizzle. But I have to be somewhere and this is not so bad....
Showing posts with label story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label story. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Attempt-1
I arrived at the station at twilight, 15 minutes ahead of the time, I told my friend. I called my friend before I started.
“Dei, I’ll be there sometime around 7.30. It depends on which train I board. But surely between 7.15 to 7.45”
“OK da, I’ll come to pick you up at 7.30, if you reach there early call me”
When every one takes it for granted about the availability of mobile it is mandatory for those who don’t have to declare it up-front.
“Can I call your number using pay phone?”
“You can call da”
I put back the receiver, jotted his number in a paper and rushed for the door. If I miss the shuttle, it will delay my schedule further.
In the deserted station, I am looking for phone booth. They are placing it in a corner as if now one might need it or so as to provide privacy for the caller from the traffic getting in and out of the train.
A guy in torn, greased t-shirt and jean, looking as if it was long time since he had a bath or combed his hair, is walking towards me with a bag in his hand. I always get an uncomfortable feel to have eye contact with these people. What if it reminds him his condition and if he see me as an embodiment of what he don’t have? I look like a person sitting under a tree and opening his lunch box, praying no crow up in the tree shit in it and fly…
I saw the phone and moved towards as if to dodge him. Then I remember I had placed the phone number inside my purse, I have to take it. Voices swirl inside my head
“Don’t walk alone in dark; don’t carry much cash in purse”
“If someone sees you take purse and ask you, hand it over. Who knows, anyone will have a gun there…”
I am in a confusion to take it out or not. Don’t want to turn and see where he is. I have a feeling he is in my back.
He asks me something, showing something, from the bag. I turn slightly towards him and raise my head to a level good enough as if responding but not high enough to see his face and mumbles something which sounds like not needed or no cash or simple no with my head swaying horizontally and my hand still inside pocket holding the purse…
He walks away. I see the bag in his hand, which has fanta, axe etc..
As I take the phone number I remember I brought a different bag today as I have to carry more items and the coins are left in other bag.
I moved towards the place where my friend asked me to wait. I have 15 minutes. My brain started to fill with desolateness, poverty, communism, capitalism, comrades……
“Dei, I’ll be there sometime around 7.30. It depends on which train I board. But surely between 7.15 to 7.45”
“OK da, I’ll come to pick you up at 7.30, if you reach there early call me”
When every one takes it for granted about the availability of mobile it is mandatory for those who don’t have to declare it up-front.
“Can I call your number using pay phone?”
“You can call da”
I put back the receiver, jotted his number in a paper and rushed for the door. If I miss the shuttle, it will delay my schedule further.
In the deserted station, I am looking for phone booth. They are placing it in a corner as if now one might need it or so as to provide privacy for the caller from the traffic getting in and out of the train.
A guy in torn, greased t-shirt and jean, looking as if it was long time since he had a bath or combed his hair, is walking towards me with a bag in his hand. I always get an uncomfortable feel to have eye contact with these people. What if it reminds him his condition and if he see me as an embodiment of what he don’t have? I look like a person sitting under a tree and opening his lunch box, praying no crow up in the tree shit in it and fly…
I saw the phone and moved towards as if to dodge him. Then I remember I had placed the phone number inside my purse, I have to take it. Voices swirl inside my head
“Don’t walk alone in dark; don’t carry much cash in purse”
“If someone sees you take purse and ask you, hand it over. Who knows, anyone will have a gun there…”
I am in a confusion to take it out or not. Don’t want to turn and see where he is. I have a feeling he is in my back.
He asks me something, showing something, from the bag. I turn slightly towards him and raise my head to a level good enough as if responding but not high enough to see his face and mumbles something which sounds like not needed or no cash or simple no with my head swaying horizontally and my hand still inside pocket holding the purse…
He walks away. I see the bag in his hand, which has fanta, axe etc..
As I take the phone number I remember I brought a different bag today as I have to carry more items and the coins are left in other bag.
I moved towards the place where my friend asked me to wait. I have 15 minutes. My brain started to fill with desolateness, poverty, communism, capitalism, comrades……
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