It was quarter to ten when the bus finally started from the bus stand next to Maruti Mandira. I was in the second row aisle seat and there was company on the window seat. A colleague of mine. We were, for some reason that I currently can’t recollect, on this bus to Chennai that night. In the seat in front of me was this lady whom I thought I knew. Curiosity got the better of me and it was soon allayed at the sight of a couple of tickets in her hand that she was perusing. She wasn’t alone either.
I seemed to know for sure who she was with. Strangely she seemed to know that I knew. Invisible eyes at the back of her neck waited in anticipation.
“So you are taking him to your mother? An introduction session?”, I hated the sarcasm in my tone but it came naturally. Intention was clear: to prick with words. The attempt seemed futile though. “Mother is in the hospital. She has met him.”
I saw him through the open door by the front left Goodyear wheel of the red bus. There was sand interspersed with grass and for some strange reason he was shoveling on his haunches. I had expected it to be him and hoped it wasn’t. But it was him. The lump in my throat, and its involuntary formation, both were vexing. Amidst the irritation I realized the bus had started moving, but only a couple of meters later.
He was still digging and all he could manage in response was a glance from outside into the front seat window. He saw her. I saw him. She saw me seeing him with my right butt up. My mate was either fast asleep or not in her seat. I didn’t bother, for either ways I got a good look at him. His thick glasses gleamed in the street light but there was absolutely no sign of panicking. We moved a few meters further and he got back to his digging.
