Wednesday, 28 March 2018

The journey

Who was telling the story ? And whose story was it anyway ? 
The words fluttered and flew in the wind.


It was very difficult for me to pack . Tears kept welling up , and I had to go constantly go and check up on my sleeping beauty ,Rhea, all of 4 months old  , her black locks falling over her pretty face .

This afternoon , she was sucking her thumb , and I fell upon her , kissing her like mad . She started crying , and Lakshmi , her nanny , had to snatch her from me . I almost felt like a monster . I was one.

Who abandons her pretty baby , who smelt of milk and talcum , all at the mercy of a nanny , whom I had met a month ago . She came highly recommended , but she wasn't the mother .

It was some consolation that my better half , was a great parent and would not allow the baby to sleep with the nanny . He would take up the jobs of nappy changing and bedtime feeds upon himself . He was the best . That made me all the more wretched . Guilty , inconsolable . We had been taught in our convent  to remember the Lord's prayer , when faced with adversity.

."...forgive us our trespasses "chanted a small voice in my mind , as I boarded the bus . Rhea was giggling on a swing , taken to park by Lakshmi , when I saw her last . My poor hubby came to see me off, and was constantly reassuring me . He too, was rattled , I could make out . He had left the left -turn indicator for his scooter on , for most of the ride to the bus-stop. He almost never does that.

"as we forgive those who trespass against us "..Lord save us , who was this ? The "dried up prune ", the "Countess Dracula " Suzie herself . No one told me I was to spend the next two months in the company of this blood-sucking vampire !!I took two involuntary steps back and hit my hubby hard on his shin as he was following me , close on my heels.

"What the ...?" A reflexive curse stopped on my hubby's lips as he studied the human form , sitting on my seat , smiling with panache , at our collective discomfiture .

"Good evening Ma'am " Thank God for his quick thinking ," I thought Miss Mariam was supposed to accompany Meena ."

I smiled and nodded weakly , like a dumb person .

"Mariam called sick , this afternoon ." She hissed ,and smoothened her kurta " Girls nowadays , have no stamina ".  She gave me a hurt look , as if it was my fault that Mariam had fallen sick .

Hubby fixed up the luggage and bade me a hasty goodbye , keeping a wary eye on Suzie .


Suzie was twenty years our senior . Slimmer , fitter and better , in all manners , as per her own assessment . She was known to throw completed assignments into the thundering rain , and make people run after her, for months , for a meagre signature . In the mess , she was reputed to have hurled cups of hot tea at orderlies throwing sass at her . She, once, made the said Mariam work double shifts , when she was almost 32 weeks pregnant , a crime by today's standards.

So I was a trifle worried for Mariam , and a whole lot worried about myself . I needed to be alive after this ordeal of two weeks . I had a baby to look after . Miss Suzie was , well , a miss. She had decided to give the best things in life a miss. Matrimony , motherhood , and all things mushy and natural.

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First , they ask me to pack and move at this unearthly hour ! Second I am supposed to accompany that cry baby Meena . Just because she has delivered a baby a few months ago , doesn't mean you lose it completely , in the upper storey. Besides , she has such a supportive husband .

That Mariam , fool , slipped, in the bathroom  and broke her femur. I am telling you , she has done it on purpose . All these new girls , no physical and mental balance or stamina !! Humph!!

Why should I be chosen ? I am so senior . But I can still give them a run for their money . These namby -pamby girls from the backwaters !! Who selects them , in the first place ? I should write to the board , one of these days . No longer the tough breed we used to be .

She comes full half an hour late to board the bus , then she brings all this unwanted , faaltu luggage . And makes her husband carry her suitcase . What is she ? Some princess from somewhere ?

There is a beautiful sunset outside , the sky is the colour of watermelon I had for lunch today . When I tell her this , she starts snivelling !! The idiot !! You can't have the best of both the worlds.

"Would you like to have something ? The bus is about to stop at Surpur ."
I can't believe I said that . She can keep snivelling all that she wants . But I want my tumbler  of the famous "badam milk" from Surpur . If I don't ask her , she might "najarofy" my milk for all you know . Spike it with her bad eye.

Meena has just shaken her head . I think I will go ahead and get one of these good people to get it for me .

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The wretched bus is running one hour late . At this rate , we might miss our train from Gobati . All Miss Suzie , the woozy , is interested in, is having her "badam milk" from Surpur .

To make matters worse , She has  got one of these gents sitting behind us to fetch a glass for her . As if the whole world comprised of her personal slaves . She has either forgotten my presence , or the  use of her lithe legs .

Sheesh! The bloody thing is sploshing with"malai"bits and ghee blobs . Ewww! Mariam was right . Suzie lacks class. Totally . Just a peek at it as it passed beneath my nose , is enough for me to start retching .

She belched !! Can you believe it !! One huge , stinky belch , right in  my face !! Ugh!! I think I will go out for some fresh air , and splash some water on my face .

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Great! So , our Miss Prissy here went out for some air , and the driver is honking . She is not back . I am sure she is throwing up into some bushes , by the roadside .

What did she say ? Travel sickness ! I say life sickness !! She just can't live . Such fraility , or shall I say , vanity , should be made illegal .

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We had crossed Simbalpur some time back . It is totally dark now , and it has started drizzling . I hate rains specially when they come at such inopportune moments like this .

 I mean , look at me . I am a mess .It is time for Rhea's nighttime feed and my breasts feel like two bricks kept on my chest wall. I can fell the steady drip-drip of milk into my bras. I have been checking my phone every fifteen minutes . No update from either hubby or Lakshmi .

 Just one from Mariam's husband updating me on the terrible accident , that the bone is to be fixed tonight , and apologising for my new, unexpected  companion .

I wonder if all that milk has soaked through to the surface of my thick jacket .

Of course , I can't share any of these miseries with our lady here. She has taken out her well-thumbed rosary , and is saying her beads.

The bus is moving real fast now . The outside world is a dark , rain splattered , glistening place , with occasional tired looking lamp throwing a hazy circle  of yellow light . The two sides of the road are lined with paddy fields , with occasional village nestled in the distance , its meagre lights flickering in the wind lashed night.

We are half an hour away from Gobati . The train is due at 2330 hrs . So , we are well in time . It is only 2125 now.

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Oh God !! It is raining !! And this new driver , who boarded at Simbalpur , is  driving recklessly ! I hate bus rides , that too in the night !! Oh God !! Oh God!! Oh God !!

"Our Father who art in heaven..." Poor child ! Meena's breast milk is probably leaking into her clothes . They should make a  rule . No marriage , no babies , in this profession . Only nuns . Why do women have to suffer all the indignities of nature !!

Now the moron is honking madly !! Honking won't help mister , slowing down probably will.

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The bus was going at a steady clip , suddenly , a huge crash , bang , and a shuddering , grinding noise . Crumpling up of metal .

What is astounding is the terrible silence . No hysterical screaming , shouting . This must be death .The end .

It was dark , terribly dark . Things continued to fall and slither , long after the bus had come to a shuddering halt.

A suitcase from overhead rack , several bags , a saree clad woman , clumsily trying to brace herself . Foot wear by the dozens . Some people jolted from their slumber , had begun groaning .

I had slithered away into the corner of the bus and had hit my head on a rail . A pair of skinny arms had wrapped itself tightly around me , preventing any further head banging . Miss Suzie .

Pupils dilated with fear ,muttering incoherent curses , and repeatedly saying "I knew this would happen , I knew it ."

Blood dripped from a cut on my forehead . Miss Suzie had a laceration on her shin . She held me tightly , like a fragile thing . Strange . She kept dabbing on my forehead with a white hanky , she had fished out from her large bag .

The bus floor was slanting . We had gripped the railings for dear life . Someone was sobbing quietly . People had begun gathering at the windows . Some were jumping out too .A bunch of people started abusing the driver and his cleaner who had gathered outside the bus , and were reassuring the passengers . One of them(probably the driver ) had a circular cut on his forehead starting from tip of one eyebrow and running all the way down to his blood dripping chin .

Some one had missed their connecting flight . We were about to miss our train . We were trapped , as the door connecting the rest of the bus to driver's cabin was jammed shut .

Suddenly , a rough thud rocked the bus . Miss Suzie was trying to prise open the cabin door , using my plastic suitcase.

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I knew this would happen . I felt it in my bones today . I have a premonition kind of thing in my head . I do. I had wrapped my arms around Meena even before the impact rocked us . I could "feel" it coming .Then she , still asleep , slid to the floor , taking me along , and try hard as I might , banged her head on something .I end up tearing up my churidaar and shin on some jagged thing on the floor.

Then , no one tries to open the door which is jammed . I picked up one suitcase , and tried to hammer the door open . Goodness!! The bus rocked !! That means we were precariously placed , hanging half into thin air , above paddy fields .

Miraculously , I find my rosary beads back , intact . A man from outside , probably a villager , and the boy who got me badam milk , Forced open the door somehow . Phew !! Meena carried my bag and insisted on me going ahead of her. She then tied one of her long stoles around my laceration .

She is a sweet girl , I have to agree . A man from the bus sat next to us and started recounting the ordeal , in loud tones to his family . I had to shut him up.

People have no sensitivities. Meena has a bad cut on her forehead , and a black eye .

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Our luggage was miraculously saved . Suzie became the hero of the bus by beginning to bang on the door , when people were still coming to their  senses. She also berated a young man who was making a video of the whole accident .

I mean , come on . How insensitive people can get ?

Suzie found her prayer beads , and found solace in them . I envy her . How she can be so calm and collected in the eye of a storm .

She took the phone from the hands of a man next to me and switched it off, telling him to go elsewhere.

Then she hailed a rickshaw and asked him to pedal us to the railway station , real hard . She kept checking my wound and black eye , with a worried look ,while exhorting the guy"Jaldi Bhaiya, jaldi"

I called up home and Suzie took the phone from me , reassuring Hubby and Lakshmi . I was amazed .

In the cold , dark night , with damp wind whipping around our faces , Suzie said "I wish I had a family like you , who worried about me . No one would bother if I lived or died today."

Then , after , a little while , as an after thought , she added" You are lucky girl, to have a loving and caring family."

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2 and a half  weeks later .

With a symbolic pooja , a 6 month old baby , is initiated into the rite of consuming rice /grains . It goes by the name of "Annaprasanna ." The baby is made to sit in the lap of a family elder , other than the parents . Hindu equivalent of a god -parent .

Suzie had worn a saree for the occasion , as she proudly fed a squirming Rhea her first grains of rice to the chanting of mantras , and her giggly parents recorded the moment in their iphones and their hearts.

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