Eyes firmly fixed on Peters Bridge; I was impatiently waiting to see a 25G ascending from the top of the flyover, with a hope that it would allow me to join the procession that it embarks. For much longer time(after my long arduous days in Delhi), I was oblivious to other MTC buses and enjoyed being blissfully ignorant only to conceive the thought that most benevolent people of Chennai commuted in 25G.
25G arguably, had the power of assorting the most diverse passengers and offer the best experience to an eavesdropper. Deciding to kill boredom, which had already spread its tentacles on my mind, I donned the innocuous mask and was adventuring on my new profile of eavesdropping. In a hope to hear recent Kollywood gossips I firmed myself next to a couple of college kids, grossly failing to realize their eyes were riveted on a middle aged good-looking woman, whose sari had betrayed her. Squeezing and inching forward to hear more captivating discussions, I halted beside two disgruntled old men discussing politics who apparently lost their faith in the whole system. Cursing my ill-fate and unable to hear their irrational and superlatively stupid comments, I quit eavesdropping and decided to be on my own.
As 25G was cruising along the road in its own style, I was busy humming a recent hit, assuaging my deprived soul, which, consciously made me think of her. Like an oasis in a desert, her memory brought me the utmost pleasure that I could derive in a crammed bus. Like fresh rain in a dry wretched day, her mere thoughts would bring in a respite of happiness, no matter how fleeting time is. Her beatific smile and her sharp eyes made me recall the verse from Love’s Labor lost, my memory failed to help me:
"From women's eyes this doctrine I derive:
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;
They are the books, the arts, the academes,
That show, contain, and nourish all the world."
Having reached the destination, I managed to pull myself out of the city procession 25G would continue to make. Plunging into darkness, my fearing shadow joined me in the quest to understand its master better. I was mentally preparing myself to wear the mask my career would demand. The street lights effusing sheath of light alleviated the fears of my shadow and managed to bring it out of its master …..
Wearing my new mask, my shadow joined hands with me, as we were marching towards a new dawn which would bring us new memories…….. Her thoughts vroomed back again and I realized it is here to stay, whichever mask I wear…… From women's eyes this doctrine I derive…..
6 comments:
Don't wear that mask, it doesn't look good on you. We are what we are and we better come to terms with that, a mask is not going to change anything in this world
Who is she?
Everything remembered is dear, endearing, touching, precious. At least the past is safe though we didn't know it at the time. We know it now. Because it's in the past; because we have survived.This is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it.
arae ohhh sambooooooo
- yarum bayapadadheenga yarum unarchivasapadadheeenga ;)
ellarum solradha solluvanga.. enna panradhu ... avunga avungaluku vandha dhan theriyumnu solriya :P
Good narration! :-) Makes a plesant read, a little bit haunting too.
Until i read this blog, i never knew that travelling in a 25G could be narrated so interestingly.Gud work.Would appreciate if you could pen down blogs upon real life incidents.It gives a natural feel to your work.Something we could relate with.
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