A Wishful Journey
When the bus halted at a stop, a bulk of the crowd alighted the bus. The allayed bus heaved a heavy breath just as I did. Two girls, presumably college goers, boarded the bus with bags. The lady who was sitting next to me just now jumped to a parallel seat as it became available. One of the girls, who had a book in her hand and earphones plugged in her ears, looked at my side but chose to sit behind me with the other girl. I looked at the now vacant seat beside me. Putting my bag on it, I sat relaxed. This had always been the case. I knew – sometimes with relief and often with a slight note of loneliness – that the seat next to mine was the last to be occupied and the first to be left empty again.
The bus climbed over a bridge, and soon, it would stop to shed me off, too. I let myself experience the pollution and traffic through the open window before getting down and being fully exposed to it. The night sky grew black against the dotted lights from the houses down. I heard the earphones girl talk to someone on the phone about a certain eating place that was expensive, but “Damn, worth it!”
For a moment, the elevated position on the bridge let me forget everything. As I let my hand reach for my bag to hug it closer, I felt the bulk of my purse inside. It was salary day. All my sweat had materialised into a bundle that rested inside my battered bag. I felt a small warmth passing through my body.
But as the bus came down the bridge, making a gurgling noise as though it would melt and ooze down the bridge, so did my good feeling. It could never be the case – the bus melting or going into pieces, tires rolling away and parts flying off the road… That was just a wild thing that I imagined every time. I wished for something similar. Or less improbable and less fatal, perhaps. But I feared I would appreciate any excuse not to go home straight, even if it was disastrous.
The conductor of the bus walked to the front. His whistle pierced through the silence and loneliness I had built around me. I remembered how lonely I had been feeling lately. I was a regular on this bus. But I had no friends. My bus ride home had always been my least favourite, occupied with wishful thoughts and dreams of escaping the present. I never paid much attention to people around me except when I felt grumpy or envious about what they wore or possessed. No one talked to me. Even the conductor, who is generally friendly to other regulars, had nothing to tell me. He even stopped asking me where I wanted to go, as he learnt my stop.
“Irugur Pirivu,” he announced the next stop with the command of an officer. I recognised that it was for me. I had to get down there. That was my stop. I smelled the familiar smell of the bus, the iron handle of the seat before me as I leaned forward but also hesitance. I didn’t want to go home yet. Just not yet.
That was not unusual. But the urge to go away and spend the night all for myself was stronger this time. I hugged my bag closer and pretended to be going somewhere else. Guessing I was not going to unboard, the conductor walked towards me and reminded me of my removal. I mumbled that I forgot I had to go somewhere else while rummaging through my bag for change to get another ticket. He lifted his hand with tickets while shouting at someone on the back seat and asked where I wanted to go. I replied timidly, having not given it any thought till then. He nodded, saying not to worry about rebuying a ticket. It was just the next stop. He walked back towards the small commotion in the back and I felt this was the kindest anyone had been towards me in a long time. I smiled.
The bus stopped at my stop, nonetheless. A middle-aged woman boarded the bus, followed by a hesitant young couple – the girl in the front and the guy in the back. She had an elegant handbag that hung on her side trying not to stand out from her dress. She sat in the seat before me, ensuring the guy had also sat. She turned to look casually around the not-so-grand bus, but her face betrayed her, and she cheered up on looking at her guy again. I turned away feeling nothing about their exchange and stared outside blankly.
That was where I had to go – a kilometre or so down this road and I would be home. Going there and facing my parents and my sister was tiring, even to imagine. When the bus began to flee the stop for me, I heard a child crying. It was distant but I started at the sound. That was my niece. Or so I thought for a moment. I felt guilt spreading across my body. But I chose to turn away, assuring myself that I deserve this much. I turned away from the cry, from my home and my life. For once.
As soon as I stepped down at the next stop, I crossed the road. I didn’t plan for anything yet. All I knew was that I didn’t want to go home. I could decide as I went to the main bus stand. I boarded a bus to the Gandhipuram bus stand. All my way to the bus stand, I mentally blocked all the noises, especially the cries of children.
When I reached there it was quarter past eight and I had decided to go to Chennai. I remembered my mother would be serving dinner to my father now. I remembered they might start to realise I was getting late to join their ordeal of complaining about their indigent existence. I texted my sister that I could not go home tonight with no further explanation. I turned my mobile off because if not, I knew for sure, there would be calls and all sorts of questions I had to answer. Talking to random people, I had learned that there was a bus to Chennai in about 45 minutes. I decided to have a quick dinner to shush my grumbling stomach before hurrying to the bus.
I sat in the front seat, immediately reached inside my bag, and felt my purse. It was still full. It was still mine. I remembered how I would’ve disowned it already had I gone home. The loans and medical bills that awaited had a horrific face. Once looked into its eye, there is no looking away from that face. I never had a distraction. But tonight, I have decided to give myself one. I would ignore the face for a night at the very least. I always hated it. I had to pay all my salary to the loaners only to loan more to manage a living for the month. An ever-going circle. I knew it wasn’t fair to blame my ill parents or my divorced sister. But, to hell with fairness and duty. I am done with it. I had been suffocating, carrying all the burden – their burden.
When the bus finally left the bus stand, I felt lighter than I did previously. It was almost empty when it started, but it swallowed people all the way until the bus was fully packed. A young man sat beside me. I didn’t have to look around to know there weren't any other free seats. He had his headphones on. We didn’t care to acknowledge each other’s presence. We ignored each other. I continued to stare outside at the dark night. With the wind against my face, I gazed at all the name-boards of stores along the road to know where I was every minute or two. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration if I say I felt relaxed in every muscle when I found I had reached Karumathampati. A smile spread over my face. I am finally away from home. Away!
I looked around the bus to find if anyone was there to share my joy. But everyone on the bus seemed to be absorbed in their own worlds. The guy next to me was still listening to some songs, selfishly ignoring my existence and I could not turn my phone on, or listen to a song myself. An old woman who was sitting in two seats before me talked loudly to her granddaughter. They presumably were going back to Chennai after a vacation. I wondered if the old woman’s son or daughter visited her often. If she got ill, would they look after her? Some children get away without doing much. Some are stuck forever. As I returned to my window, I tried to remember the last time I had gone on a vacation myself. It must have been when I was that girl’s age, when I was very young and not a woman – definitely not the family’s sole breadwinner.
I was in my late twenties with a degree in commerce and nothing else to brag about. I was a failure. But that was because I was never allowed to play my game. I had to play others’ parts from when I graduated. If not great, it was still manageable when my father was working. But six years had passed since he met with an accident and was no longer able to work. My mother was working for a meagre sum, but she had also taken to bed lately. My elder sister turned up at our door one day with her child, declaring she could no longer stay with her psychopath husband. That was even before we successfully paid off the debts of her marriage.
I took it upon myself to take care of them all. At least, that was how I preferred to look at it rather than thinking I was compelled to do that. I could not say that I was never angry with any of them. I could not say I never hated doing this. But none of us knew other ways. My father was devastated about his condition and it only worsened his state. My mother kept mourning about her ill fate and my ageing fate. It irritated me that they thought about marrying me off amidst everything that was happening. But it also irritated me when they didn’t think about it. I would feel that they didn’t care about me enough.
Sometimes, I could not help shouting at them. The most annoying of all was my sister. She was depressed and would not even take good care of her daughter. Lying or crying to sleep all day, she wouldn’t move a thing in the house. Despite her physical illness, it was my mother who fed and played with my three-year-old niece. If I had to point out one thing that made me want to run away from home, it would be my sister's state of being. But, as the bus rode off, I felt my sister growing smaller and smaller. She would eventually vanish and I could sleep the night off. Peacefully.
I knew taking time for myself away from home would be the best decision of my life. Initially, I thought I would go somewhere and return on the next bus. But now, after coming all the way to Chennai, I wanted to look around. I wanted to extend my break. I still had my mobile turned off. That means my problems were turned off for the day.
As I alighted the bus, the young man who had sat next to me gave a goodbye smile. Though it was all the communication we shared, it made me happy. As soon as I exited the bus stand, I asked for an auto. I went and booked a room in a decent hotel, all for myself to stay and sleep. It was fancier than I expected. I slept for hours, not minding cooking or washing, fetching medicine or shouting at anyone in frustration.
I woke up late and had food in the best-looking hotel in the vicinity. I forced myself to not look at the price before ordering and I must say, it was, damn, worth it! It had been a long time since I had had a rich lunch like I did just now. I asked a grey-haired auto driver to take me to the nearest mall. It was, however, not a short ride. Perhaps he was taking me to the farthest mall in the city. I could not help but enjoy the ride.
I headed to the mall entrance with a bloated stomach and an almost full bundle in my purse. Looking at all the girls around, I decided I would buy myself a new dress. I looked at my chudidhar, which I had worn many times now but was still the best I had, in the mirror in the shop. I tried multiple clothes and finally decided on two. While going to bill them, I crossed the children’s section. My niece’s face flashed in my memory. I pushed it to a corner and turned away. It was my day. I asked the uniformed girls if I could change to my new clothes there in the trial room and they showed no objections. So, I shimmered when I walked out. A new me and I knew I deserved it.
Looking around, I found a young man in his mid-twenties. He was with two other girls of the same age, presumably his friends. One of the girls had the edges of her flowing hair coloured blue. Looking at her wavy blue hair cascading down her back, I followed them around, all the while wondering how many stores I could visit in a day if I decided to visit them all. I was still full in my stomach. So, when the trio entered a pizza place, I decided to follow a different trio – this time, all girls. I didn’t think they noticed. Sometimes it pays to be unseen.
When they entered a bookstore, I followed them in. I couldn’t remember if I had ever bought a book. I had seen girls carrying books with beautiful cover pages on the bus. I had wondered what was so interesting about them that they wanted to read it on the bus. But it occurred to me that some girls carry them just to show off. I had also seen a few girls conversing in English and I was always sure they could speak Tamil. Perhaps it was all part of being affluent. But why would they take buses then?
As I looked at the prices of the books, I knew I was right when I thought reading was an expensive hobby. Nobody in my house cared to read. They cared about nothing outside our family if I gave it a thought. My mother and father worried away their days, thinking either about my marriage that was never going to happen or my sister’s marriage that happened and had ended in a disaster. If they think about anything else at all, it would be my niece’s education and all the bills and loans we had to pay. They never had time to turn the pages and simply enjoy. I felt jealous of all the people who could do that.
Inside this bookstore, however, a strange desire to buy a book settled in me and I would do it. I had always been shy to talk to anyone. But, boy, did I care about it now. In a different place and dimension, I did not have to care about anything. I walked to the trio and asked for suggestions to buy. They argued among themselves before suggesting to me a book with a boring cover. It had rangoli design as borders and the title in big fonts. There was also a car with orange stripes as though burning fire was cut into the shape of a car. One of the girls told me the book was about a man who rose from poverty to riches. She was excited when she said she liked the book despite not liking the main character and that this book had moved her, making her understand the struggles of the indigent. I really didn’t want to read a book about someone in pain to understand it. Besides, I never felt any better hearing about others’ struggles. Knowing that there were even worse lives that people led did not make me feel blessed. I struggled and it was all that ever concerned me. But I decided to buy the book all the same. I chose another book with a better cover to buy along.
Coming out of the bookstore, I noticed my bag looked odd with the books stuffed in it and wondered what awaited me next. I decided to watch a movie and went for it, not giving it second thoughts. I bought popcorn and drinks despite my elaborate lunch earlier. I remembered the last time we went to the cinema. It was when my sister was still unmarried and my parents were not sick. I did have a chance to go to the movies after that. In fact, my friends were so kind that they often invited me, though they knew my answer already. My responsibility at home always made me hesitate. But now I had turned off my responsibilities along with my mobile. It was nice to do that. I did not care what the movie was about. I enjoyed it, nevertheless.
After the movie, I decided I would get a nice bag for myself. It was embarrassing when they checked my bag before I entered the movie hall. The bag I had was given to us as a gift when we went to buy some jewellery many years ago when my father was working. I wondered if they still gave bags in that shop as they once did. I doubted it. I had fixed the zips twice and the interiors were all torn. Though you see two compartments from the outside, it was actually one inside. I guessed the woman believed there were four different books when she unzipped both zips to check if I was smuggling in some snacks.
Then, I decided to do away with my free purse, too. I decided to buy an elegant looking purse which would be the first of its kind. When I paid and started shifting all my things to the new purse and bag, I noticed the bulk of my salary had reduced considerably. I took to walking again when the good-looking young man who went to the pizza place was in my sight again. I decided I would talk to him this time. I hadn't decided what to tell him yet, but I started walking towards him.
“Irugur Pirivu, it’s your stop next.” The bus conductor’s face and voice interrupted me. I stared past the conductor at the good-looking young man who was now looking my way. He was about to get down. The girl with an elegant handbag stood just behind him to follow. The conductor blew his whistle to indicate a stop. The bus stopped and I figured out it was my stop. The couple got off the bus. I hugged my bag tighter and felt the bulk of my purse inside. Still full and waiting to be put in the hands of the loaners. I stared while the conductor shouted at me impatiently. I heard a baby squealing in the distance. It was my niece. Or so I thought. I was confused. But I knew I could turn away just as I did the first time.
And I did. Perhaps. Perhaps not.
Wow I really liked your wishful journey.
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