Life

I walk out the brown wooden door. Then I walk out of the brown Iron Gate. I wish my next step out be a walk out of the circumference of the earth too. But that doesn’t happen. I end up in the bus stop. A quick glance at the carpets displayed through the window of the Interior Décor shop and then at the bikes right in front of it. There’s a guy sitting in one of them. He’s clad a in black jacket, black shades and most importantly looks very CLEAN. I don’t want to look at clean people when I am feeling very dirty myself, in need of a good scrub from head to toe. So, my head instantly turns in the opposite direction as if by reflex. My green t-shirt is discolored ( it was an absolute waste of money), my hair smells Johnson Baby’s Hair Oil and my hands are smeared with blue ink ( a blue Reynolds pen had to vomit it all in my hands).And that is how I look at work.

Eternal Sunsets
These Blessed Eyes of Mine

I stare ahead at the departmental store right in front of me, struggling with the best posture to stand and wait for the bus. I cross my hands in front of my chest. I free them again and put them deep into the jean pockets. Life, it has become an unending affair with the bus rides. It revolves around the bus timing, the seats, the passengers and an observant view from the bus. I am lost in deep thought. I am so lost in thought than I bet I looked more thoughtful than ‘the’ Miss Thoughtful picture of mine. Two girls clad in black walk in my direction. They look like a black blur about to speak to me in the beginning. I have to shake myself out of the ‘thoughtful’ state of affairs to talk to them. And I am elated, relieved not to spend another second thinking about my uneventful and robotic routines.

The bus is fast. There are no traffic jams on the way. I won’t have to get on another vehicle making it the fourth ride in my journey to and fro from work if it reaches Koteshwor before dark. It’s almost dark but I decide to walk back home after a really long time. My hand gets bruised as I get off the bus and Swine flu is the very first thing that comes to be mind. Walk. At first I walk fast, then faster and then the fastest. I am fast enough to escape the odious kissing sounds the drivers and conductors make when you walk past their buses and trucks but not fast enough to avoid noticing a peeing man made visible in the partial darkness by the headlights of a truck. I wouldn’t have walked had the bus reached Koteshwor two minutes late so the walk literally depends upon the bus timing. In fact, everything depends on these bus rides….

I reach home, postpone changing into something more comfortable and colorful for the time being and start reading the newspaper. There’s a knock on the door .

“Time to Eat!”says the voice.

“I am changing”, I reply.

“Into what? A sari?”, asks the voice.

The paper is filled with Sabana. I wish I were bourgeois enough to have the time and resource to watch ‘Tumhari Amrita’ in some corner of the city too! Haha. And the line “…..even when they know that the chance of being together in life is rare” resounds with me.

P.S This entry along with the picture is dedicated to Pete. 😛 What would I do without a reader like you yaar? I might have quit writing if not for you! Sacchi. 🙂

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2 comments

  1. 🙂 yay yay yay an entry, a thoughtful one too. and the pic!

    now a celebratory stanza (the full-length poem will be released next baisakh, this is an exclusive excerpt :P):
    night is darkest before the dawn,
    from dissensions zade x-press is reborn

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