Bus Logs

You get up in the morning and you find your roomie all dressed (occasionally also taking a bath) and all eager to rush off to office. You see him literally finish a bottle of deodorant daily, and put on lipstick/Vaseline (as if all prepared to get smooched), and the excitement in his face; it is precisely at this time that you sense something amiss and lacking in your own life.

You get up drowsily and barely manage to brush your teeth, put on some dress you haven’t worn continuously for the last couple of days and garland in the company id card, and rush off to catch the office bus. You manage to find a seat where the air vent is not broken, and snuggle into the window seat. You switch on the music on your cellphone, plug it into the earphones and life rolls into another world altogether.

All’s fine till then. A couple of stops later this pretty lady gets up, and all your bliss suddenly dismantles and boils down to asking the lady to sit beside you. (The seat beside you being usually empty, unless some other worldly moron comes and sits, totally ignorant of the consequences). The trick is, you don’t ask the lady to sit: some days she sits and some days she doesn’t. When it doesn’t you feel bad, and then life again drools on to some other untouched angle.

However, the crux of our discussion lies in the times when she does sit beside you. You have a bag which is already on your lap, and yet to decide to push it up so as to allow her to sit more comfortably (which you wouldn’t really care if it was just another girl). You force yourself to look out of the window while simultaneously ebbing the music volume and momentarily turning your eyes to look at her. You know you like her, every inch of your body does, and your heart keeps pounding like anything. The blood rush in your system is obvious, yet there lies this unseen force which prevents you from talking with her. You try your best, but either your vocal chords seem to have lost their senses or your central nervous system becomes deluded. Either way, you just end up trying to listen to her (if she’s on the phone) or just dream on through this otherwise blissful adventure.

Occasionally you do try to make it obvious that you want to talk to her, by putting off the music and unplugging the earphones, but she never gets the hint. Or even if she does, she seldom reveals it. You look at the name register and find out her name and alias. Oh come on now, you’ve already googled/fb’d her profile and literally know everything that she would want any unknown person to know. Some days you’d like to call her by her name, and some days just a “hi”. However, God knows when this courage will light up on your face and you’ll be able to simply converse with her.

In such amazing tranquility and turbid boisterousness the bus ride ends and it’s time to bid adieu to the lady. You simply wish that she would sit beside you the next time. (which doesn't really happen and will be explained why next time) With sweet thoughts and sweet dreams you plunge yourself into the daily abyss of work all over again.