Friday, January 3, 2014

A Strange Company

I

The bus had all the signs of total deterioration. The broken chairs with torn cushions, nothing in many places where glass windows should have been present, made the bus look like wizened old man waiting to see his end. The condition of the bus showed the concern that the policy makers had for the people travelling in it. The best part was the so-called “socialism” involved where irrespective of the collar, blue or white; the travelers have to undergo the same comforts or difficulties.

With the ticket price at 33 Rupees, Harish had very less options, in fact no option other than utilizing that bus. The other options were much more expensive. His office transport, 3000 rupees a month, deducted from the monthly salary, did not help the cause. His office broke the myth of “Public sector is bad and privatization is the need of the hour”. “However bad the public sector, we can be still worse” seemed to be the retort from the private players.

Harish ran to the bus stop carrying a laptop backpack, which did not have a laptop in it. All it had was a Tupperware lunch bag with a square shaped lunch box and a spoon, John Grisham’s A Time to Kill for killing the time during the 90 minute travel, a small reminder pad for noting down anything or something important although there was literally nothing important and a ball point pen to write those important things that doesn’t really exist for him.

The first important thing he did was to take the window seat and the next important thing was to close those windows. It’s a usual ritual for many to run to a bus to take the seat close to a window to just close it and stare at whatever is there beyond that transparent material. Harish was no different from the herd and he continued that exciting tradition of closing the window, thereby denying that right to another fellow traveler. The pathetic souls, who were showered with travel sickness, have to just put up with them.

Harish obtained the ticket and held it in his left hand behind his Sony Smart phone. On his lap, John Grisham was showing to him how the 2 white bastards were raping a little 9 year old black girl. Having engrossed into the book, he paid little to no attention to the figure who sat next to him.

II

The co-passenger stared at the book for a while before staring straight ahead when the gaze of the reader turned to him. Harish looked at the person next to him and the first word that crossed his mind was “Weird”. He couldn’t make out the height but must weigh in between 60 and 70 Kilos. 

The most conspicuous feature was the smile on his face. The smile was sandwiched between a moustache that resembled a pencil sketch and a beard that looked heavy on that face. Harish turned his attention to the book. Again he could feel the eyes staring at the book.

He closed it hastily with his index finger becoming the bookmark and looked at the person.

There was no change in the emotion on that face. The smile was still there. He opened the conversation.

“What book are you reading?”

“A Time to Kill by John Grisham”

“Is it good?”

“Yeah. It is till now.”

“So you like stories?” he paused for a while, and then continued “written by some foreign writers?”

Harish stared at him for a moment and answered in the affirmative.

“What is the story about?”

Harish was genuinely irritated now. The last thing he wanted was this conversation with this stranger. But he couldn’t lash out at him. Even though the guy was weird, Harish was little bit sympathetic with him.

“It’s a story of a 9 year old black girl getting raped by two white men in America. The girl’s father decides to take law into his own hands and shoots the 2 white men. What happens to the trial etcetera forms the rest of the story.”

What Harish failed to notice was the reaction of the guy when he uttered the word “rape”. The face that was smiling had all the color drained from his face. His facial features were trying hard to suppress the poignancy emanating from that face. And slowly but steadily the tears started to drop from the eyes of that “Weird” guy.

Harish, with a bewildered look, was wondering what on earth was happening.

“Sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

Then that happened. He shook his head, opened his mouth and started talking.

III

“Sorry. I couldn’t control my emotions on hearing what you just said. No. Nothing’s your fault. What was the age of that kid who got raped? Hah yes, nine, right? An age meant to enjoy the world. You know something? Kids lose their preciousness, beauty, innocence and everything that’s unique to childhood, the moment the elders start showing sympathy. It should never be that.”

The non-stop monologue from the co-passenger was stirring some different emotions within Harish. The delivery of the rhetoric was evoking some heavy feelings, the kind of feelings that were buried deep inside a human heart. 

Harish for the first time that morning did not want to open his mouth. He wanted to listen to what this strange guy had to say. Even though the stranger had not revealed anything, Harish felt that it was like a moment before a storm.

“My life turned upside down because of a rape. It was 10 years back, on a hot summer night; I did the mistake of my lifetime. ”

His voice cracked when he uttered the last sentence.

“I took my wife and 9 year old daughter to a movie. The movie wasn’t great but we had a happy time enjoying each other's company. When I recollect all the events today, it feels like all that happiness was for that dreadful finale.”

He never looked at me. He spoke those words looking straight ahead, with tears rolling down one at a time. Each and every tear was tearing Harish. He felt like crying too. He understood what he’s about to reveal next.

“There were 4, I think. It all happened very fast for me. I shudder to think how slow time would have passed for them. I felt a metal striking the back of my head. I’m not really sure whether it was metal or something else. It struck me hard and everything went black in front of me. When I regained consciousness, what I saw first, was the torn and destroyed dead body of my daughter”.

IV

“Do you have a daughter?”

“No. I’m not married.”

“Then you might never understand what I felt at that moment!”

The truth is Harish could understand what the stranger would’ve gone through. But he didn’t have the guts to say that. Instead he was just shaking his head.

“I felt like killing those bastards but” he paused and looked at Harish, with eyes that didn’t have any trace of anger, “I don’t know who did those heinous crimes.” He pleadingly looked at Harish. The obvious helplessness was evident in his eyes.

“All I remember was silhouettes of them and nothing else.” Then looked at Harish, with eyes peering into the eyes of Harish, “When my anger subsided a little and my thoughts were clear, I decided not be like them”

“Didn’t the police find out who did those crimes?”

The sarcastic smile said everything. Harish felt numb. This man was clearly beaten by everyone.

All that was said after that was just sound and nothing else. He had never met anyone like this stranger. The most surprising part was the sanity the man still possessed, ironically, whom he thought was weird. It would have been totally justified if he had taken the law into his own hands. But he didn’t. Although intellectuals and psychologists might argue that this man would’ve become a vigilante, if he had known the identity of the culprits. But for Harish, none of that mattered. He felt if a human being can abate his emotions even after going through such horrific moments, he’s not just a normal person.

The stranger destroyed the prejudices that were lurking within his conscious. He thought of all the moments in his life when he had pre-judged people; People who unfortunately couldn’t show the face that society likes and loves. Those people had to endure the humiliation he had showered upon them with his judgmental attitude.

When his destination arrived, he stepped down a different person, bidding his good bye to the stranger, who was actually on his way to visit his wife, who is now in a rehabilitation center.

A stranger’s company wasn’t bad after all.

Did he tell his name? hmmm, Does it matter?