“Why do you have to board a running bus?” shouts the grimfaced lady bus conductor as I jump onto the running bus. “There is no 49M for the next fifteen minutes, I’ll be late for the rehearsals” I murmur justifying my most unreasonable act, half out of breath, but the conductor doesn’t listen.
Taking a ladies seat near the window, I notice that the bus is less crowded. “Madam” says a grumpy voice behind me- the conductor, with a very obvious frustrated tone in it. Probably because of people like me who board the bus exactly when it is most dangerous to step in. “Ek Begumpet” I say handing over a five rupee coin, nevertheless ashamed of my clumsy behaviour. She takes the change and giving me the ticket, walks over to the front seat. A tinkling sound comes from the seat as I see a small chubby hand giving a ten rupee note to the conductor. Pink bangles- goes very well with her fair colour! Her mother says “Ek Shopper’s stop”. I lean a bit to have a glance of the baby girl. Dressed in a pink frilled frock, her hair is tied neatly on both sides with pink ribbons. Pink is my favourite colour too!
The loud click of my spectacle box makes me aware of my customary act of reading in the bus. As I flip the pages of my book, the little girl’s voice and the grumbling roar of the bus fade into the impressions that I read.
A tinkling voice calls back my attention to the real world from a much preferred world of fiction. The little girl stands with her hands outstretched indicating her mother to carry her as she got up to get down. Realizing it’s time for me to get ready to get down at the next stop, I pack my bag. I watch the little girl clinging to her mother as they cross the crowd making way to the pavement. As I admire a mother’s assurance of safety to her kid, a disheveled figure appears at the back of the mother and her kid- A middle-aged woman, with brown, uncombed hair. She is carrying a baby girl who is holding on to her torn blouse.
With no fancy bangles on her skinny hands, no ribbons to tie her unkempt hair with, the girl looked far from being attractive in her blue oversized slip. The presences of the two figures make the crowd uncomfortable! As usual they stare at the living example of human suffering without letting their thoughts stay on it for a spilt second.
Suddenly the mother puts her kid down with a thud and moves further towards an open drainage lid. She spreads her long skirt and sits at the edge of the hole. Unable to make sense of the shocking site, I gape at the heartrending scene. How unimaginable her plight would be if she has to abandon her shame in a public place like this!
The bus slowly began to burr and after a few minutes I was there at my destination, crossing the road. Gaping absentmindedly at the road I walked with an unanswered question in my heart – should I thank my stars that I am not in place of that poor soul or should I be blamed for feeling completely gutless to go forward and listen to the deafening cries of my heart to do something for the deprived!
- A true incident that passed my eye and still remains as a sore in it. But something stroked me the other day, told me that safety and dignity are concerns for women in general irrespective of their personal status in the society. But the fact remains that the underdogs are the most vulnerable of the lot, in this society of highly ‘civilized’ people- where one is worse than the other. Sometimes through action and sometimes through inaction. In relation to the subject the story has a sequel…
Taking a ladies seat near the window, I notice that the bus is less crowded. “Madam” says a grumpy voice behind me- the conductor, with a very obvious frustrated tone in it. Probably because of people like me who board the bus exactly when it is most dangerous to step in. “Ek Begumpet” I say handing over a five rupee coin, nevertheless ashamed of my clumsy behaviour. She takes the change and giving me the ticket, walks over to the front seat. A tinkling sound comes from the seat as I see a small chubby hand giving a ten rupee note to the conductor. Pink bangles- goes very well with her fair colour! Her mother says “Ek Shopper’s stop”. I lean a bit to have a glance of the baby girl. Dressed in a pink frilled frock, her hair is tied neatly on both sides with pink ribbons. Pink is my favourite colour too!
The loud click of my spectacle box makes me aware of my customary act of reading in the bus. As I flip the pages of my book, the little girl’s voice and the grumbling roar of the bus fade into the impressions that I read.
A tinkling voice calls back my attention to the real world from a much preferred world of fiction. The little girl stands with her hands outstretched indicating her mother to carry her as she got up to get down. Realizing it’s time for me to get ready to get down at the next stop, I pack my bag. I watch the little girl clinging to her mother as they cross the crowd making way to the pavement. As I admire a mother’s assurance of safety to her kid, a disheveled figure appears at the back of the mother and her kid- A middle-aged woman, with brown, uncombed hair. She is carrying a baby girl who is holding on to her torn blouse.
With no fancy bangles on her skinny hands, no ribbons to tie her unkempt hair with, the girl looked far from being attractive in her blue oversized slip. The presences of the two figures make the crowd uncomfortable! As usual they stare at the living example of human suffering without letting their thoughts stay on it for a spilt second.
Suddenly the mother puts her kid down with a thud and moves further towards an open drainage lid. She spreads her long skirt and sits at the edge of the hole. Unable to make sense of the shocking site, I gape at the heartrending scene. How unimaginable her plight would be if she has to abandon her shame in a public place like this!
The bus slowly began to burr and after a few minutes I was there at my destination, crossing the road. Gaping absentmindedly at the road I walked with an unanswered question in my heart – should I thank my stars that I am not in place of that poor soul or should I be blamed for feeling completely gutless to go forward and listen to the deafening cries of my heart to do something for the deprived!
- A true incident that passed my eye and still remains as a sore in it. But something stroked me the other day, told me that safety and dignity are concerns for women in general irrespective of their personal status in the society. But the fact remains that the underdogs are the most vulnerable of the lot, in this society of highly ‘civilized’ people- where one is worse than the other. Sometimes through action and sometimes through inaction. In relation to the subject the story has a sequel…
