Life sucks!!! Yes, it really does. And, you feel the pinch
even more intense when your anything but comfortable company bus is dragging
its way on a dusty, humid and jam packed pot-holed road in a hamlet called Hinjewadi.
This whole business of commuting by bus is a surreal one. You come running to
the bus stop, you are late by a fraction of a minute, and you don’t see anyone
around and after a while you agonizingly realize that it has dodged you. You
make a vow to reach early next day, and actually reach the bus stop 10 minutes
earlier only to find yourself waiting for next 25 minutes as bus is late. You
travel with the people you feel you know but you don’t really know. On a
non-descript day, I get into bus, and jump onto front seat which I don’t
usually occupy, but on that day, I just happen to sit there. On the next stop a lady gets in and starts
giving me venomous looks, I get confused only to realize later that this is her
usual seat. Suddenly, the usually benevolent bus starts having hick cups, the
driver starts rolling the wheels with the speed of a jet and he has been
possessed by a clone of Michael Schumacher. The mobile girls (those girls, who
stick to mobile phones once they get into the bus and keep speaking in an
ultrasonic tone and language that only their boyfriends and fiancés understand)
find it a bit irritating. Some of the
over enthusiastic freshers on the back seatstry to take advantage of the
situation and bang into the chic next to them. But, the real ordeal starts when
the bus takes that fatal turn to Hinjewadi. The moment I hit that road, I feel
as if the world has come to stand-still. Day by day, this crawling has taken a
toll on me and has developed a phobia for traffic jams. Frustration is an understatement
for my mental state. I take out my blackberry and start reading already read
mails. In the meanwhile, I get jealous of co-passengers who easily doze off
during the travel. I have this hugely irritating problem of not being able to
fall asleep while travelling, and all the stress, all my worries start
attacking my tiny brain during such hour. The bus somehow crawls upto that
crowded, filthy Hinjewadi chowk and drops an anchor to satisfy the pot-bellied
traffic police constable. My desperation to come out is reaching its peak,
fresher enthusiasts don’t stop blabbering, mobile girls don’t stop
indecipherable chatter, lucky ones don’t stop snoring and the poor driver and
poor I can’t hide helpless apathy on our faces. I get a call from Chhagan. He
says he can’t come today, that to an extent brings smile to my lips and
suddenly it seems, I have become luckier, the bus picks up the pace,
surprisingly, there are no more jams, the driver gets possessed by Schumacher
once again and bang!!!In less than five minutes, I find myself getting down at
the company gate, as I get down; I see my floor’s hot chic in hotter apparel
and this time without her stud boyfriend around
