The night had come around too soon, again! Work that began at dawn was slowly coming to an end at sunset. It was the last trip for the bus on that route. Halted at the origin stop, no passengers boarded the bus yet.
“Excuse me, Sir?” said a woman, addressing the driver from behind, who was standing outside the bus. Her dressing and hairstyle suggested that she was a mid-40s and not so modernized a woman. Her lunch box hanging over her shoulder, her tired face, and messy hairdo showed that she was a working woman.
The driver turned around.
“Sir, when will the bus start?” she asked him politely.
“Ten minutes,” he answered carelessly, scanning her from top to bottom even though she was fully covered except for the hands and face.
“Why could he not answer by just looking at my face!” she thought to herself and silently stepped in the bus from the front door. Sitting in the first row, she rested her head against the window grill. A cool breeze eased her nerves after a long day at work.
As she was about to plug in her earphones and relax, she heard some faint sobbing from behind. The bus was parked in dim light, and the rear part was relatively dark.
She looked around to see a woman sitting in the last seat. She could sense that the woman was crying with her face bowed down and hands on the head.
She saw a couple more passengers entering from the backdoor and seated close to the crying woman. But it seemed they were least bothered as they were busy talking on their phones.
She sighed and thought, “Why is no one attending to her? How busy and detached a world we live in! Emotional expression has been repressed by the social expectations and ruthless pace of this modern life.”
She made up her mind, quickly got up, and walked up to the woman in the last seat. From the uniform that woman was wearing, she understood that it was the ticket collector on the bus. As she went closer, she realized that it was a familiar face for her. She could recollect her face even though it was dark.
“Hi, are you okay?” she asked, placing a hand on her shoulder and sitting beside her. She nodded her head but was still weeping.
“Please have some water!” she offered her water bottle.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“Devika,” the sobbing woman answered in a weak tone.
“Devika, are you alright? Do you need some help?” she asked with genuine concern.
“Nothing. I am fine,” Devika replied.
While she was trying to talk to Devika, a few more passengers stepped in, and the bus driver ignited the engine.
“Devika, if you don’t mind, can we talk after the trip is over? I get down at the last stop of the route,” she said.
Devika nodded, “Okay.”
She went back to her seat in the front row while the driver yelled, “Conductor, punch the tickets. It’s already late.”
A couple of halts later, passengers filled in the bus. She saw Devika strolling from one end to the other, busy punching the tickets. An hour later, the trip ended. Both the women got off the bus.
Devika handed over the day’s collections in the bus depot and came out.
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“Where do you live, Devika?” she asked as they began walking.
Devika answered.
“That is close to this bus stop. Who do you live with?” she inquired.
“I live alone,” Devika said.
“Okay. Do you go home by walk every day after the duty?” she asked.
“Yes. I rented a small room close by so that I can go home quickly after work,” answered Devika.
“I live close by too. Today is my last day at work in this city. I will be moving out this weekend. If you don’t mind, you can come to my place. I will cook dinner for you”, she offered.
Devika hesitated to join, but she convinced her.
“I travel in this bus route almost every day. I get off at the last stop of the last trip. I see you regularly on the bus. You might not have noticed me, but I remember your face pretty well,” she started talking.
Devika silently nodded.
“You look lovely,” she complimented Devika to make her feel at ease and open up.
“Thank you,” Devika said with a sheepish smile.
In a few minutes, they reached home. She invited Devika inside.
She flipped the light switch on, pulled the drapes off the windows, and let the fresh breeze in.
“There is no one at your home too?” Devika asked, looking around.
“No, Devika. I live alone. My family lives in another far-off city,” she answered.
Without directly jumping to the conversation, she invited Devika to join her in the kitchen. They both cooked and ate together.
After settling down on the balcony, she asked, “So, tell me, Devika. What is your story?”
She noticed Devika’s hesitancy and supported her, saying, “Trust me, Devika. I will try my best to help you out. It was heart-wrenching for me to see a youngster like you crying, all alone in a public place. Else, I would not have bothered you.”
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