Busted

I have an aversion to buses. This is my excuse.

This was probably around 2001-2002, if I remember correctly. I had taken the train to Thane from college on a day when it was raining cats and dogs. It was one of those days when you wonder if people around you are relieving themselves without hesitation, with the assurance that the rain gods would wash it away without anyone noticing. Oh that reminds me.... During our BSc, Shetty and Ankit had gone for a class trip to some hill stationesque place, which was supposed to be really beautiful, with waterfalls and the works. I couldn't join them for some reason, but that's besides the point. Apparently, the class came across a water tank under the fall, and understandably everyone decided to jump in. Shetty didn't, only to be at the receiving end of a lot of ridicule from Ankit. You know the kind - "What a loser you are Shetty! Why are you being so asocial, look how everyone has jumped in and having the time of their lives! I myself have dipped my head multiple times and its a lot of fun! You've got to come in and feel the water, really experience to know how it tastes! What a loser! You've got to let go sometimes!". Shetty tells me he didn't give in to the trash talk, but I have my doubts. I found out later from reliable sources that a girl from our class had relieved herself in the water tank - or in other words let herself go in a completely different context - in the same water that Ankit had felt, experienced, dipped into and to our amusement and his disgust - tasted.

Anyway, I digress. So I was at Thane train station where it was raining cats and dogs. Usually, I would take a share-rickshaw back home, which worked quite nicely. Of course, considering the demand for rickshaws that day, it was harder to find one than it is to wipe the huge grin on the newly-married-to-a-Gujarathi Chirag's face when you mention Narendra Modi. My back-up option of walking back home was also not an option that day, since that would mean a sure shot bout of pneumonia and would have only helped prove Shetty's theory then that bad things happen to people who make fun of others.

So I decided to hop on to the wretched bus. I don't know what it is about buses, I feel I am in an unfamiliar territory. I'm guessing its the same feeling that Gurmeet Ram Rahim Singhji Insaan would experience at any respectable film festival in the world, especially if the event is black-tie compulsory (See it, believe it). It was no surprise when I found the bus to be completely crowded with soaking wet individuals. The thing is, the moment you enter the bus, you are subject to the gaze of the people already in it, which you can do very little about. My eyes desperately looked for an empty seat and I was surprised to spot one on the very last row - a window seat at that! Why was it unoccupied I wondered, but didn't bother mulling over it too much. The stares were making me too uncomfortable so I pushed my way through to the last row. Trust me, it was hard work. My popularity quotient in the bus kept reducing drastically as I squeezed through to the empty seat on the last row, thanks to almost stepping on an old lady, almost groping a man when I lost balance, almost elbowing the conductor and almost accidentally falling on an obese man's lap. Please take note of the word 'almost'. My discomfort was on the rise, while my approval rating plummeted. Somehow, I made it to the window seat and realised soon enough why it was not claimed. The window I sat next to was one of those longer sliding ones, since it ran through the last and penultimate row. And the window was open, thus allowing the rain to gush in to the last seat. In fact, the window looked like it had never been closed since the bus was manufactured as a tribute to Mumtaz, along with the Taj Mahal. To add to my distress, I was now being viciously slapped by the rain. You will also be pleased to know that this meant my vision was heavily impaired, since I couldn't see a thing through my glasses. I couldn't risk trying to get out and sitting on our obese friend again. I had to do something. I had to close the window.

Through my compromised vision, I somehow found the window edge next to me and tried to push it right across to shut it. It didn't move, not even an inch. 'Come on!', I thought. Obviously, I had to be more aggressive with the window, almost ruthless, in the hope of saving myself from being water-boarded.  I gave it all I had this time and after a few seconds, the window gave in, when it suddenly overcame its inertia and slid with lightning speed to close with a huge thud. Phew! 'Well done Aditya, well done! Well rescued! No harm done to popularit.... Wait a minute!' The woman sitting right in front of me started yelling in a 'convulsing but not really' kind of way.

I was flummoxed! 'What in the world is going on?!' The yelling only got louder with each of her 'Hey's'. I started perspiring. Considering how drenched I was already, nobody could tell. Multiple questions took birth in my confused head - "What is going on?? Is she screaming at me?! What's with her head? Why is it positioned that way? And why is she yelling!? Is she in pain!? WHAT'S GOING ON!?"

I wiped my glasses frantically with my dripping wet shirt. That's when it dawned on me. She wasn't yelling "Hey!", she was trying to tell me her "hair!" was stuck in the window when I mercilessly shut it. She couldn't turn around because her head was brutally pulled towards the window and was ALSO stuck! All of this - because of me - the Gabbar of the bus - the Gabbus. So much for being uncomfortable with people's gaze - everyone was staring daggers at me - EVERYONE. This was bad. Damage control was needed - NOW.

I went to pull the window back to open it right away. One swift motion and this will be over. Remember though, pulling is a lot more difficult that pushing. I tried, as god is my witness, I tried! The window just wouldn't budge. The woman was still yelling. People were still staring. My hand slipping off the window because of everything being slippery did very little to help the situation.

"Can you PLEASE help me!?", I asked the middle aged man sitting next to me.

"Sure", he said while placing his questionably stain-ridden handkerchief on me, assuming that I needed help with drying my hands.

"Oh no no! NOO!! I meant could you help me pull the window please!?"

"Oh sure of course" he said to my short lived satisfaction, since he then proceeded to dry his hands with the aforementioned handkerchief and placed his hands on mine.

Both of us worked together for about 30 long seconds and finally pulled the window back open. The hair came undone. The lady looked back at me with disgust. Her eyes joined the rain in slapping me. I apologised. She scoffed while massaging her sore head, only to find some hair strands come off on her fingers.

I got off the bus at the next stop, still far away from home. Pneumonia could be risked. Of all the places I thought of being unpopular and detested, a bus was probably at the end of the list. Was there a tear in my eye? Well, thanks to Indra, the rain god, that is up for speculation!

I have an aversion to buses. This is my excuse.