A Bus Ride
...ation though. To everyone’s surprise he was pushing and pleading the passengers to move towards the back of the bus, in order to accommodate more passengers. Nobody moved. I guess no one could move. Suddenly a loud bang on the door twice, followed by a deafening whistle from the conductor finally got the bus moving. I gave a long sigh of relief though my headache had worsened. Any more passengers and we would have been transformed into nothing less than the authentic Nepalese cuisine, gundruk ko achar. I had nowhere to turn to, but towards the window, in the hope of catching some fresh air to clear my headache. Outside, the streets seemed very quiet with just a few shops open here and there. It was on the inside the day had dawned. I could hear log of voices and murmurs. Sounds of people shuffling, coughing and sneezing. Friends chatting and making jokes about each other, which occasionally turned into hysteric and somewhat eerie laughs. My drunk, asleep friend by now seemed to add to the “music”, his loud suffocating snores, accompanied by frequent bobbing of his head on my shoulder. I felt out of place; wanted to jump out the window and walk home. But I was only half way through and still had a long way to go in the night. I tried to close my eyes and take a nap, but the voices behind distracted me. A bunch of old and middle-aged men were talking politics! They seemed to have opinions as to the perfect solution to the Maoist problems. Talk is cheap, I guess. Just then, the conductor appears in front of me, squeezing through the crowd to collect the fare. I gave him five bucks, of course flashing my college ID for the student discount. Further ahead, I could hear an angry female shouting at someone. I wasn’t sure of the incident but later came to know that a man tried to sexually abuse the lady. It is appalling and a shame to hear such stories, on how a misbegotten man in a crowded public vehicle lets his hands wander around freely over the body of a female passenger. No wonder, some women think that all men are scum whose every emotion originates from below the waistline. My ragged, smelly friend seemed to have woken up, as he was busy clearing his throat and nostrils by spitting a mouth-load of sputum out the window. What a disgusting habit! What surprised me more was he...