The School Bus

DREAMY BOY - Part 4/9 – The School Bus

The screen on the left displays an event which took place some thirty odd years ago.

It shows a seven year old lad dressed in a crisp and neatly ironed school uniform and a freshly polished shining pair of black Bata shoes, which his mother readied every morning waking up at wee hours of the day.  On his back, he carries a heavily loaded school bag and on his neck, dangles a banana shaped Water Bottle. Both his hands are held on by his elder sisters who walk alongside him, one each on his left and his right. He walks merrily, swaying his head and singing gibberish, which he pauses for a few seconds as he jumps over the puddles by drawing support from his sister’s arms.

He is a carefree lad. No sooner do they reach the bus stop, he dumps his school bag and his water bottle on to the wet, bare ground and goes about playing with his buddies. He jumps around running and playing with his little buddies spoiling his boots and trousers, muddying it with the puddle water.

His elder sisters who stand nearby chatting with their friends’ monitor his acts under their watchful radar. They call out his name and reprimand him as he strays away very close to the busy road along which they wait. When he doesn’t listen despite repeated warnings, one of his sisters runs to him, holds him by his arm and drags him to safety. He gets annoyed, and walks away shrugging off his shoulder and straightening his tie with his left hand.

As the school bus arrives, all the kids scamper to occupy the first position in the line, lest they would not get a seat in the bus and would have to take the half hour bumpy ride along the potholed roads standing, bearing their heavy bags on their shoulders while occasionally jumping and hitting their heads on the ceiling, as the bus tires get in and out of the many potholes on route to their school.

As all his schoolmates, including his sisters’ run to the bus, making a line, he lazily picks up his bag and walks to the bus, without even dusting off the muck at the base of his schoolbag. He doesn’t care. He is not bothered if he would find a seat or not; not that he is not scared that he might have to travel standing. He harbours this brute confidence that come what may, he would find a seat for himself.

He is the last one to get in. His sisters, though who were part of the first half of the queue, have not found a seat, but they were lucky enough to find a place in the overhead rack to tuck in their school bags, whereas some of his buddies stood there, bearing their baggage on their fragile back.

He gets in lazily and then pushes his way through, nudging and pushing hi schoolmates on his way. He eventually manages to reach the sixth row of seats in the bus, where his eyes meet a pair of intensely expressive eyes lined by kohl and owned by a beautiful tamil brahmin girl, some five or six years elder to him. She gives him a beaming smile, stretches out her arms and pulls him to her. She lifts him. He climbs on to her, soiling her frock with the muck on his shoes. She posits him on the space next to her, which she had secured for him partly by placing her bag and partly by spreading out her legs. She then dusts off her skirt, hugs him and gives a light peck on his cheek.

Everyday she would fight all the other kids in the bus to secure a seat for this cute little boy that she loved and cared for so much. The boy however remained indifferent, and looked at this favour as his birthright. After all, she enjoyed the privilege of sitting next to and kissing a cute little irresistibly brute stud, everyday!

Everyday as she turned away to talk to her friends after performing this ritual, he would rub off the kiss with his palm and look away, outside the bus and dose off leaning on to her shoulder. As the bus jerked jumping in an out of the huge potholed roads, she would hold him securely, lest he would wake up with a free fall.

Later at school, his buddies would tease him pairing him up with that girl and he would fight back saying “I don’t like her, she is fat and big”, yet everyday his eyes would search for her, for she got him that precious seat on the bus.

This event repeated each day till that goddamned day, when his eyes searched for her, and she was nowhere to be seen. He later found out from his sisters that the girl had moved out to another locality within the city and now she would be plying another bus route.

Later, everyday like his other friends he too would dart off to be the first in the queue, but end up being pushed around and ultimately be the last one to get in. Inside the bus, he would stand lethargically holding on securely to the pole, bearing the overweight baggage on his back, and as his back broke under its weight coupled up with the jerks passed on from the potholes below, he would slowly lean on to the guys, who sat there leisurely chatting away on their seat, passing on some of his weight on to their shoulders. The senior guys would turn their head and give him a scornful glance, he would just smile back, giving them the same cute dimpled smile that had once enticed a fat girl whose hospitality he had not acknowledged; but their hearts as he found out were too resolute to melt easily. The seated boys would just push him back saying “Hey, stand away! Your bag and shoes are all muddy, don’t spoil our dress”. He’d just hang his head and move aside.