When I reached the stop, I was brooding over him, particularly the possibility of meeting him. I was trying my hard to restrain my tensed composure with hard enterprise. Then I found a bus towards my direction that usually crossed early in the morning. Its unusual arrival time astonished me. Maybe there was some roadblock that day. Familiar faces were calling through its open windows, asking me to get up. But I never saw the bus at this odd hour and got confused about what to do. “Is there any possibility of his presence here?” I contemplated. The bus without giving me any time to speculate much headed away throwing all the smoke on my face.
Suddenly I felt a sordid vacuum in my mind, “He may be in that bus along with his group. Today I miss him for my foolishness.” But then I convinced myself, “He does not go so early. There may be a chance to meet him if I wait a bit more.”
The next bus came within five minutes. That was also not the same bus that I used to board every day. But I smelt something was wrong as the buses were all early buses, arriving at their unscheduled times. So, there might be a serious jam somewhere. If I again let the bus go, I would not reach in time. So, I forced myself to enter the mostly empty bus. He was not there and no hope of him anyway. Finding a window seat, I settled with my book. But my heart was broken. After the next stop when the bus finally left the town, I thought I heard his voice. I was startled but did not raise my eyes from the book as it was impossible for him to hire the bus at that stop. I did not want to break my already broken heart with hope and then bitter despair. But the voice echoed within me with anticipation till I reached my stop. I took my bag and stood near the queue to get down. My eyes fell on the side mirror of the bus. It gave me a jerk. I shivered within. There was he, seated with his brooding eyes fixed on the outer world, oblivion of me. I dared to snatch a glance under the protection of my sunglasses. My heart filled with joy.
Hey, I am Munmun, the phoenix fabulist who wants to tell you stories. I love to read stories and I love to weave stories. I feel life is an amalgamation of multiple stories, colourful threads, and threads of pain, pleasure, hope, and hopelessness. We just need to pick those hues and arrange them, knitting them with our own emotions and perception. So let’s celebrate the stories of life.