The Girl

There was a girl sitting quietly on the front seat of the bus towards the side of the door. She was seemingly oblivious to what was happening around her but things were playing in her mind; things of the past, pleasant conversations - real as well as imaginary - with people she loved and cared about. Sometimes she got so engrossed in her own imaginary world - her creation - that she would start talking audibly and make gestures visibly in this world to something said or done in hers, but then when she realised what she was doing she'd reproach herself playfully, silently pleased with herself that she could live a beautiful moment whenever she wanted just by going into this separate world she had inside her. But things had started changing for her recently.

It wasn't that she was unhappy in the real world around her, but the fact was that she had only recently understood that happiness is a voluntary state of mind. So she had started to be more and more conscious and aware of the actual happenings around her. So then, at that moment, she suddenly returned to this world, forcing herself to part from some beautiful moments in the hope of testing this finding, hoping to find something precious in here and now to remember later. The change was quite remarkable. Her eyes, that earlier had been staring down towards her hands resting on her legs, shot up and became conscious of activity happening around - people looking at her, people not looking at her and going about their business with what seemed to her so much earnestness and sincerity that she flushed with shame for an instant criticising herself for her insincerity at work and making a promise to be productive and fruitful from now on and not waste time at all. Also, the smile that earlier occupied her face was taken over by an expression of eagerness and curiosity, such as might be seen in explorers.

The bus stopped (at a bus stop!) and there came in all sorts of people - passengers and vendors selling 'chatpate chaney', 'paani', 'naariyal' - the usual lot that come in at every stop infact if the bus stops for more than a minute. Her eyes - that had earlier been inspecting the road divider, taking in the never-yet-noticed-details, marvelling how she could not have seen them earlier having passed this way so often - now came to rest on a little boy of about 10 selling 'chaney' and continued to rest there. She was staring hard at him trying to see through to his mind perhaps. "What was he thinking? What does he usually think about? Could she know how he feels?", such were the thoughts as passed her mind. He aroused a feeling in her, what it was she couldn't say. It wasn't pity though, of that she was sure. She continued to stare, unable to take her eyes off him, with no particular motive except that she wanted to know something. When after a while the boy realised that no one in that particular bus wanted to eat 'chaney' that day, he got off and went towards a man sitting on the fence by the side of the road. Perhaps he knew the man because when the man asked him for some 'chaney', he picked up a few from his bucket and, it seemed to her, willingly offered. But the greedy man - seeing the quantity- refused and indicated that he wanted more and with onions and he wasn't going to pay! Brave boy! He refused. The girl was delighted, almost proud at how wise 'her little boy' was. He wasn't heartless and yet at such tender age he already knew the limits of being generous. He would do fine in life. But it doen't end here of course. Stories never end so simply, do they?

Another man came and gave the greedy-charity-wanting man a bottle of water. The boy was thirsty. He looked at the bottle longingly and spread out his hand to grab it, but oh the bastard! puts the bottle behind his back out of the reach of the boy's tiny hands. The boy stops instantly, though still staring. He badly wants water. The heat is terrible, the sun just about ready to burn down everything. And the girl was burning too, burning in anger. "Why can't the blasted man give water to the tiny little thing", she thought to herself. But she was a silent observer of events; feeling them, even living them but from a distance without ever interfering. So she just continued watching. The man started drinking himself and when he had finished, the boy summoning up some courage, spread out his hand very slowly, very carefully towards the bottle hoping that the water might have softened up the man a little. But oh no! Oh no! What was that? The same gesture. Whoosh goes the water bottle behind the back, out of reach again. The girl was in pain now. "Why O why is this happening?" Then, almost as quickly, the answer came to her.

The man looked at the bottle and then at the bucket half full of 'chaney'. The boy obviously understood. Had he been in such a situation before? He had no choice. He bent down, picked up a handful from his bucket, sprinkled some sliced onions on top and handed them over. He got the bottle in return. The girl was amazed. She was also confused. What to make out of what she had just seen? Now she saw them both sitting on the same fence, side-by-side, the man with his arm around the boy's neck, both of them looking at nothing in particular.

Suddenly her face became pale and she looked shocked. What had she just seen? It was a war to her, a battle for survival, a duel fought for life. But those two, the two warriors themselves, seemed blissfully unaware of it. To them, it was a routine thing. Give and take. As simple as that. She would have been better off in her own world. Why did she ever come back? So there and then she lowered her eyes and a smile spread across her face. She had gone back.