Bangalore mornings..

Focusing on nothing but the distant Red Volvo bus, I screw up my eyes to read the bus number. I glance a few times at my fastrack watch registering only the fact that I am running a bit late than usual. Hopping on the bus, I claim an empty seat and run my hands inside my bag in search of the tangled once-upon-a-time-white brown earphones. Finding it nowhere, in dismay, I turn on my phone just to watch the screen warn me of low battery before shutting down. With nothing to do and an hour to kill, I glance around.

It’s a colorful sight bevy of ladies with a subtle hint of make-up and men in corporate attire with ID card tags in different colours around the neck and yo-yo s dangling from the belt loops. The ladies dab on some powder and apply some lipstick as they shake out their damp hair to dry. Everyone though present in the same 12.3m * 2.6m bus, they live  in an entirely different world of their own. They lose themselves in their 5”or 13” displays. Some moving their fingers deflty over it typing paragraphs in seconds while others choose to plug in their earphones to be locked out of the world. One is barking instructions into his Bluetooth…  Once in a while, two people smile at each other in a sign of recognition before going back to their world and to maintain that impassive straight face. I wonder what  happened to those endless random bits of stories and political banter that one usually hears in a bus.

There is a strange silence inside punctuated only by the steady punching on the keypad and by the voice of those who haven’t yet mastered the art of talking on the mobile in a low voice and feel the need to shout to be heard. Occassionally, a radio tuned into a local channel is played.  In contrast, whenever the door hisses open, I hear the commotion of the hundreds of vehicles, the continuous honking, the rising dust and the exhausts from the vehicles outside, people cursing the ones blocking the way, the distant ambulance siren and the yelling of the conductors announcing their route and destination.

The outside reminds me of my ever-cluttered messy desk. Vehicles of all sizes awaiting the green signal form a maze that the two wheelers try to get through. It’s amazing to watch some of them maneuver through it. They bend their heads, tilt their bodies and bikes to an angle, change the direction of the mirrors, drive on the pavements … anything, just to get in through the small gap to reach the front. The helmet or the bandana covers their head revealing only the eyes that are concentrating on the road looking for a small opening ahead. The colourful scarfs safe-guarding many a woman’s hair and nose from the pollution leave only the kohled and mascara eyes to be seen. Backpacks of all brands for the laptops and handbags in different colors and sizes demand attention from the onlookers. Tupperware lunch boxes sheathed in bags fitting their size swing from arms and bike handles making me wonder where those good old stainless steel boxes from my high school days that leaked a little bit  and let everyone around know what your lunch was, have gone . Everyone is in a hurry. To cross the road, to catch the bus, to get a seat, to grab something to eat or to reach their destination. Each oblivious to anything and anyone except what’s blocking their way.

In all the hustle and bustle, I suddenly find myself staring at a boy of around 5-6 years. He wore a red and white striped T-shirt and stood in the front, in his dad’s scooty, a carefree happy smile on his face as the cool pleasant wind whipped his hair back, staring ahead into nothing. A peaceful look in his eyes as he enjoyed the weather as his father whizzed past. Living just the moment with no worry about the future or regret about the past. As I get down, I take a few seconds to appreciate the pleasant weather before going my way,  hoping that, atleast he wouldn’t grow up to become part of  “the IT crowd”.