I take the bus which comes around at 11am sharp. It is never late. In the front left corner, there sits a woman who keeps talking to herself, and the seat beside her is always vacant. No one sits beside her because they all think she is either crazy or hallucinating. I usually sit at the back of the bus because I like the sudden jerk and for a moment everyone becomes dishevelled as it jumps violently. I take refuge in music during my hour-long commute to college.
I don't notice much around the bus as I sit with my eyes closed. Occasionally, when I open my eyes, I see the woman still talking languorously to her imaginary friend. The way her lips move it seems like she is actually speaking to someone. No one knows where exactly she stays but she quietly gets down without bothering anyone. For a few weeks, I observed her doing the same thing. Her hair is always neatly tied and she is in her mid-forties. At her age she looks vibrant, perhaps she was once really beautiful.
That day I couldn't help myself and approached her. I hesitated for a while as the bus moved ahead with jerks, the constant movement making me more nervous. I sat without thinking much. I looked at her and she smiled back.
The bus moved towards the highway, and there were fewer jerks now. I greeted her and to my astonishment, she replied in a calm voice.
I was astounded and tongue-tied—I was expecting something else! For a moment the conversation grew warm, her eyes were vaguely different. I saw a different person than what the world saw, from what even I saw these past few days. It's funny how we know nothing about people until we speak to them.
‘I am Pooja, I teach at the Polytechnic College,’ she said and I couldn't be more amazed.
My voice was shaking but I summoned the courage to ask more. ‘If you don't mind, I would like to ask you something. Do you know that people on the bus call you crazy?’
She took a moment and replied. ‘Yes, I know but that's how the world is. Sorry, I didn't get your name,’ she asked primly.
‘Rahul.’
‘So Rahul, when people said I am crazy what was your reply?’
I couldn't reply to her but she broke into a smile and I was saved from replying.
‘I met my husband on the same bus and in fact on the same seat you are seated now — this was when we were students — life was different, our priorities were different. One day he happened to sit beside me and started singing, trust me he had a terrible voice. I don't know why but somehow I liked it, there was a truth in his voice. He didn't really ask me out, neither did I, but out of curiosity we began talking and six months later we decided to get married.
He was an engineer and I am a professor; I was not a professor then. We were both studying — the moment was different, we were different, and the more time I spent with him, the more I fell in love.
He didn't really force anything on me, I would say we knew we loved each other and nothing else mattered. We bought a small house close to my college. I made a small garden because I loved flowers so much, I still do but the fragrance is not similar. Anyway, once on my birthday, he was running late but we still took the same bus. We had planned an event for the evening and the guests were supposed to arrive at our house.
Before leaving for work, he wished me a happy birthday. Then he came close to me and for the first time he whispered in my ear, “If I have ever lived, it is only because of you. I can only be beside you.” Then he deboarded the bus and met with an accident.
From that day I take the same bus and speak to him like he is there.’
She got down and walked away and that was the last time I saw her, walking carefully on the busy street.
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