Turn the Page, Turn the Life | A Writer’s Battle for Survival | Help Her Win
Turn the Page, Turn the Life | A Writer’s Battle for Survival | Help Her Win

May Be This Is What It Is

May Be This Is What It Is

3 mins

Slept at 2 am at night after completing all the packing. I had to leave 5:30 am the next morning to catch the bus. Two alarms were set one at 5:00 am and the other at 4:50 am, to make sure that I was on time. But I got up at 4:32 am only. I did make efforts to sleep again but the pre-journey stress ruined it all. Finally, when the alarm rang I jumped off my bed and dressed. The cold breeze was an excuse for not bathing, ate an apple and was all set to leave. After making all the required entries Ashley and I left at exactly 5:30 am.

We reached the bus stop at 5:44 and with our heavy luggage were waiting for the bus. Our tickets were booked online. The bus was scheduled to leave by 6:00 am but was nowhere around till 5:55 am. "Shimla Shimla Shimla" a loud voice of an HRTC bus conductor. We ran and took our seats, it was seat number 31 and 32, it was in the seat with the back door of the bus. Exactly at 6 the bus started. Conductor entered and started checking tickets. He was an average height, lean and wiry man who was about 25-30 years in age. He was confident yet grounded, he was stern yet kind and there was something that caught my attention.

I showed him our tickets and then he asked for our ID proof. Ashley showed him her but I had no ID proof. He inquired about my ID proof, I responded no in a very polite manner. He gave a disapproving smile and went away checking others tickets. Yet it looked so approving and gentle to me. There was something in him that I fell for. His patience, his attitude, his seriousness that was dreadful and attractive at the same time. I saw him 3-4 times more in the journey of six hours. At all the times he was genuinely humble, confident and patient. When the bus reached the crossing "Bas bhaiya yahi utar do". He asked the driver to stop and I got down.

This was only interaction we had and probably the only that we would ever have. Even if we meet somewhere, I am sure that I will not recognise or maybe will not even remember him. But yet I believe I fell for him for the way he was. We have no future, nor I dream to have one. But for those moments he was a source of joy for me. He will never know about it. He might have known if he knew how to read eyes because words won't ever have the courage to speak out heart. But maybe that is not important because love is just sweetness of emotion. Something that gives us joy. The source might not even know about it. But it is perfectly fine. Maybe this is pure love as it has no expectation and is just appreciation. I appreciated the way he was confident, polite, stern, controlling and understanding. Maybe somewhere in my dreams I wanted a man like him. He will never know about it, moreover, I called him "bhaiya".

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