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Those were the days of early January and winter was at its chilling worst. The temperatures used to fall down to as low as 2 to 3 degrees in the late night/early morning phase of the day and so one could guess what a tedious task it was to get up in the morning at half past six, get ready and catch the seven a.m. bus so at reach the coaching class at 7:30. But when you have to do it, you have to do it right?
Only this particular morning, I got up at 7, having slept
quite late working on some sheets that needed to be submitted. I saw the clock
and hurriedly ran to the washroom and got fresh. Helter-Skelter, I put on some
clothes-anything that I saw lying around and ran out of my home. It was a Sunday
morning so I didn’t even wake my parents and simply locked the door and the
gate with my own key. Maa had done the laundry the day before so my usual
morning clothes would still be in the drier phase and I had simply put on a
ragged Denim and on top of it my father’s old sweater.
As I turned to rush on my way to the bus stop, I looked at
my mobile phone which had 3 missed calls on it. I called back and SHE pounced
upon me with her Wheres and Whys of my being late and I told her to wait at the
stop and I would be there in a jiffy. She was inexorable and I told her I would
explain once I was there.
I ran my way to the bus-stop and when she saw me, all of her
rage seemed to disappear as she broke into a laughter. “You are in tatters,
literally that is”, she told me as I realized what she meant by seeing my
attire in the biting cold. I told her I got up late and didn’t bother to look
for other clothes as we waited for a bus to come. She told me she had let go two
buses waiting for me and I could just smile at her.
The bus came in a few minutes and we got in from the back
side. There is supposed to be a door there that you can open and close as you
wish but in most of the buses, it was always missing. Now, it was our usual
habit to sit at the back seats near the ‘door’ but since it was occupied, we
chose to stand and talk. Minutes later as the bus was ascending on the bridge,
the conductor came in. He looked at me from head to toe- and his face got filled with such compassion he ‘requested’ me to go and sit in the middle of
the bus as it was too windy near the door. “There aren’t any females right now,
go sit with your friend there and keep those feet away from cold”. I looked at my
feet and realized I was still wearing my chappals. That I always preferred to
wear them was another thing but in winters, my parents made it a point that I
must wear shoes only.
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We then walked to the middle as he had told us to and
settled on the seats. All this while, she was controlling her laughter in her
stomach and the moment we sat, she burst out. She told me how the conductor
believed I was some poor poor child dressed in rags who couldn’t afford a
muffler let alone a pair of shoes. She told me that was why he was so
compassionate towards me and asked me to sit in the middle. I argued otherwise
that maybe he just was a good guy and she said that he was but added that she
was right. “That is why he didn’t even ask you for a ticket”. We looked back to find that he was making it
a point to ask everyone else and even demanded to see the pass of the people
who said they had a pass. Well, I had a pass too but he didn’t ask.
I then looked at her and nodded in a “You are right” gesture
having made a little mockery of myself. She waved her hands through my hair and
again started laughing as I joined her in it with a silly face.
She told about the incident to so many people after this with
such beautiful detail (even better than how I have told it J ) and every time she
did that, we laughed our hearts out.
It was a wonderful laughter memory that would just keep on
enduring.
This post is a part of #LoveAndLaughter activity at BlogAdda in association with Caratlane.
