Don’t get me wrong , I am pretty good at judging people, just take a look at that guy sitting all by himself in that corner seat, see the hard look on his handsome face, he has had a tiff with his wife and he is off to a bar in town. I am sure of that. How do I know that? It is all from experience my friend, years and years of being a conductor. Sure as hell, he just got off at the Lucio Bar. His very step looked determined and firm. He would probably be drunk like a lord by the time we return. I would have to help him off the bus and say to him:
“Cheettaa*, take care, don’t slip down, or you won’t stand up again in a hurry.”
You see, I have a soft heart. This used to worry my Appan*:
“Seaweed, listen, we Christians in this land can’t be soft, always remember that we are living among disbelievers and we have to make use of them.”
He was probably right. But how can I be anything else than I am? I have always been soft at heart. And didn’t the lord say, “Love thy neighbor like thyself”. Well I did not quote the bible to my Appan, that would have been improper wouldn’t it? At least he contributed a sperm in my cause, and that is nothing short of wonderful considering his general out look on life.
The fact was I did love my neighbor very much at that time. The neighbor was voluptuous, and you just had to love her whether you believed in the bible or not. You know, loving yourself all the time is not very healthy even when you are young. But Appan was not amused. He seems to have something against the words of our lord at all times, though he never missed a Sunday at the church. I think he was interested in her himself, it was probably envy and you know it is always understandable in a man, even if it is your own Appan.
As they say the “earth and hearth” are behind all the troubles in the world.
I often ask my mother the truth about my incarnation. I never could believe that I came out of something he had in him. Mother’s words are gospel in the matter. No DNA test would come anywhere near it.
“Ammachi* dear, don’t lie to me, am I really his?” Of course it was all in fun.
Mother would smile and would keep chastely silent. Normally I could make the sphinx talk; it would have found me irresistible. But before my mother my tricks never flourished. She had some tricks on me too. She is the only person who can still make cry.
She is cruelty personified on those rare moments.
-Oh you know the kind of words that stab and murder you; she has done some research on them!
When she clashes with my woman, it is a battle of titans; it normally shakes the world, at least my own personal world. I wisely make myself scarce on such occasions.
Two pit vipers might reconcile, but the two-titted variety, my god, never! I can say it from my experience.
Years of being a conductor in a rickety privet bus have not taken the softness away from me. Don’t misunderstand me, I don’t think that conducting is a bad job at all, it isn’t. It actually is a wonderful job; you get to see people, meet interesting characters and will always be in the middle of interesting events in life.
Oh, I know, it is not like being a Subin Mehta*, but I am a conductor too. You see, I conduct life situations -on a scale of course! Mehta, he might carry the magic wand and I might be carrying a whistle. But nevertheless it is not a lesser job.
In fact, when you think of it, I deal with more ‘notes’ than he ever could have dealt with, you know what I mean. These are the notes that matter; these are the real music behind life. Mehta wouldn’t even lift his hand if these notes were not there to make him smile.
I am dead sure that you see my point.
Well I know there is no comparison between our jobs otherwise. He moves on a stage and makes weird gestures while waving his wand, his every gesture bringing out the best in his orchestra. I can’t emulate that of course. But I move within a vast society. And ‘within’ means truly within, at close quarters, closer than perhaps you and your partner get most of the time.
Have you ever been on a local bus in the rush hours? You have to squeeze through a tightly packed mass of humanity every minute of the time. As a matter of fact I haven’t been this close to my beloved for some time. After the proximity of so many tons of flesh I usually feel numb when I touch her at night.
She is not very pleased with that at all.
“Go on pawing the shameless hussies in your bus”, she says “I am not fresh enough for you now, am I? “
Well women are always like that, never feels anything for the man, never says a nice word, it is either one demand or the other. Why did the God create the species at all? Well ………Can’t really blame the God you know, for there are also the soft touches you feel in the bus, the naughty smiles, and the quick pinches on your hand when you hand over the small change. And the aroma that they have in the freshness of the morning!
As I said the mornings are always better, for all would have bathed, powdered, and scented. Even the guys are sufferable in the morning in the total melee. But the evenings bring out the worst in them. Invariably there would be soiled faces, sour looks, bags in plenty than ever before, frayed tempers, grunts and,
“You ass, you stepped on my toe’”s. There would not be any reply for that, only a contemptuous look. All would be in a hurry.
My bus incidentally is not the fastest on the road. Others would overtake it all the time and the passengers would usually let me know, and what is bad, even lovely girls does that some time.
“Ever blush seeing the others go past?”
Blush? Why should I blush for a ten year old bus with a miser as the owner? Friends I am only the guy who pulls the bell occasionally, I don’t own it, as long as the thing runs I get my bread, if it doesn’t I may have to go to the US, for I hear that people there have taken to the buses again.
Come to think of it, if I did ever blush in my life at all, that of course was before my wife! You know how it is; it just is not possible to be the man you are before your loved wife. They have some trick by which they make you smaller than you are. It is truly terrible. You wouldn’t believe the kind of life a man leads inside a house.
“Da*, be back in a sec.”
It was Akbar, my driver calling out to me. We are at the main City Stand now. And he is off to his favorite haunt for the next half hour till he has to warm up the bus for the return journey. I bade him goodbye and stretched on the back seat to rest my back and eyes. You know looking out in this glare gets your eyes pretty tired.
Then cleaner of the bus also came with some excuse.
“And, boss, got a tenner to spare?”
He was thinking of Panparag*, I instantly knew. Very harmful stuff, yet I gave him the money. Guys have to keep their spirits up you know. With the pittance that he gets he needs some boosting up.
Now I am alone in the bus. I again stretched out on the back. The top of the bus needs painting. My eyes came down and rested on the sign “Ladies only*” over the next seat. I reached out and felt the cushions. It felt still warm though no one has placed her butt on it for some time now. I caressed it fondly and slowly fell into a reverie and then began to doze.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
These may help you through the story:
*Cheettaa= elder brother, we call every one so nowadays in Kerala
* Appan= Father, mostly used by Christians in kerala.
* Ammachi= Mother, also among Christians.
* Subin Mehta= The world famous music conductor of Indian origin.
* Da= word used to address guys normally younger than you especially in
central Kerala. It denotes familiarity with and love for the person
addressed so.
* Pan Parag= It’s a dangerous mixture of several harmful substances
which people chew to get high. Recently it has been banned
in Kerala
* Ladies Only= We have such seats (reserved for the weaker sex) in
the buses. We normally reach emancipation through reservation
in this land, like always we have several things to teach the
world yet!
No comments:
Post a Comment