Country-side Ramblings

I wonder how many people in the world have the patience to enjoy a ride in an airy townbus or a day-train. Everytime I traverse from a point to another, in one of these dabba-like buses I feel like taking my pen and a sheaf of papers and go on and on about the observations of my activity-hungry eyes. It is one of the most happening modes of travel! Though I admit I won't feel any pleasure if the bus is just spilling out with people with hardly any space to breathe - feet over feet, body over body getting crushed and not to mention the fresh sweat oozing from the back of people's necks or from under their arms...no, no..NO, I never meant this kind of a ride, don't look at me so indignantly! Quite the contrary infact, just imagine riding through the country-side...

I had been on this bus for about an hour now, well, looking back, I was shaken awake and made to rush through the morning formalities as the bus was scheduled to leave in about half-an-hour and I had hardly anytime for a proper bath! Soon I found myself rapidly swinging in and out of the thronging crowd at the bus-stand and finally found a suitable bus and jumped in. I managed to get a good seat, despite my delay and it was near the window ofcourse, though I confess it was a dirty part of the dabba(box), it sure gave me the impression that the previous occupiers of the seat had been feasting on pan, yuck!! It was bothering me for quite sometime, for I was oblivious of the people around and was intent on saving my shirt sleeve from touching the window. But something made me sit bolt upright and it was ofcourse the careless bus driver, under whose able guidance, the bus which was cruising through, was promptly caught unawares by this sudden speed-breaker! After hearing some muttered curses from my fellow passengers and from my own lips;) I began to notice my surroundings.

An hour had passed since my boarding the bus, and we(the bus and I) were now far from the glares of the pollution, the smoke and the asbestos roofings of industries on either side of the road. The bus was actually rambling along the countryside now and I was startled by the sudden change in the landscape, it felt like someone has just pulled in a different back-drop in a theatre play. And soon there could be seen a lot of activity, shuffling people, baskets and all sorts of movement all around. Apparently, we were nearing some obscure village hidden-away amidst natural splendour. The coming of this bus was indeed an event. Lots of them alighted and an equal lots of them boarded.

I was particularly interested in this old woman - wrinkled face, large earlobes with those B-I-G pambadams hanging in the most dangerously precarious way (if one slipped off and fell on your foot, I bet it will swell as big as a medium-sized potato!), darkish brown good natured eyes, and a mouth the edges of which were slightly oozing with a reddish-brown liquid, from chewing pan ofcourse. Somehow, she made me think that she must have been a very beautiful and sensual looking woman in her youth. Honestly, I felt pretty funny. Some kind of strange radiations emanated from her and it filled my insides with a queer joy. And the bus was still ambling along the narrow improperly laid country road, meandering along the bright green and yellowish paddy fields. There was this little boy with her, with bright innocent eyes on that inquisitive face and he was just enjoying the wind sitting next to the window. Another stop came around and this time a little girl about the same age of the boy got in with her father. The girl was standing next to the woman I was talking about and immediately, motherly instinct made the old woman move a little and let the girl sit inbetween her and her boy. The poor girl was pretty frightened apparently from being forced to sit between two complete strangers and kept throwing glances behind her to make sure her Naina was still with her, though he was too busy groping about with his thoughts, to give the girl an acknowledging look. Soon she got used to her neighbours and began to take a natural interest in the boy. I couldn't help hearing their exchanges and besides, I had nothing else to do but observe.

she: Unga per enna?(what's your name?)
he: Sedhu. Neenga? (Sedhu.And you?)
she: Sudarmani

And so they began, politely addressing eachother with respect, making me wonder how they are taught to do so at that tender age. Soon, they were talking about their respective pallikoodams(schools) and lessons. The old woman immediately joined them and asked to remember their poems - 'pasangala, enga Aathichoodi sollunga paakalaam?' soon after which the children were enthusiatically remembering the verses of Avvai and busy correcting eachother and laughing over their blunders. The old woman sat there enjoying the silly jokes and the giggles of the little-ones. She was the epitome of contentment.

There was a cacophony coming across from a bunch of women on their way to work, they were chattering about some old lady who died, leaving all her money to her eldest son and none to the younger, because of his cunning wife...The story was narrated in detail by one of the women, as though she was narrating the script to a film-director, with vivid expressions, her nostrils flaring and cheeks turning bright, she would very well have made a good theatre artist, with a good deal of conditioning! There was the little girl in her floral skirt and dirty, baggy, oversized shirt with her basket of ripe, reddish mangoes, off to the town to make her day. And behind me were the two old men who were going to the distant bank to collect their pensions and were doing some mental calculations, with their razor sharp brains!

And right in front of me, sat this newly wed couple - the fresh-looking, youngish face of the bride with those uniformly kohl lined eyes, hair bedecked with strings of fresh jasmine, the scent of which was intoxicating and her neck weighed down with a big gold chain and the yellow thread (thaali) signifying the recent wedding and next to her, the naive young groom on whose face had masculinity hardly set in - one could see the beginnings of a young moustache now, raring to burst out into freedom, from under his facial skin! And they were busy exchanging nothings - the shy girl, forever looked down on to the bus' floor and the guy was constantly prodding her, trying to get a word or two, all the while making sure that his elbows were rubbing against her waist, making her scared, happy and embarrassed all at the same time...

And soon after, a dingy old man boarded the bus, smoking a beedi, his eyes puffy and heavy with drinking and he found a seat right across the young couple, which was very inconvienient, as both parties found out soon. The old man began to mumble to himself, cursing the youth of today for their 'disrespect' towards women and the young man began to feal uneasy and silence prevailed between the couple.

Soon, the bus came to a stop and I was aroused from my observations, by the repetitive calling of the conductor 'Vange, vange, Naduvachery, Naduvachery' (I had never realized the time passing by so quickly - 2 1/2 hours!!), where it was my turn to alight and while I did, I thought about the dabba being oblivious to the sights and sounds it was literally filled with and sadly hoped that someday, it will be able to drink in the beauty of the bright colours outside and the babblings inside. And it rambled on monotonously, unable to hear my thoughts.