Ticket to Peace

Just the name of my home town on the bus made me smile like crazy. Three years of life at hostel had taught me the meaning of heaven, it is home.

The next thing I always do after I settle in my seat was to call home.

“Yes, Ma. I got a comfortable seat. I will be there by 5:30 if at all the driver did not stall the bus too much for his dinner.”

“Okay, how many of you travelling together?”

“I think the capacity of the bus is 50 plus and it should be full before we start.” I grinned knowing fully well that this was not what she was asking.

“I asked you if you have some girls from your hostel travelling with you.”

“No Ma. I am on my own.”

“But why? The risks are too much when you are all on your own. If you had people you know they might give you company and will be of help if at all things go wrong, how many times to tell you?.”

“Ma, there is no such thing as “things going wrong”, I will reach home all and whole as the day breaks tomorrow.”

“Hmmm, seems like you have grown up and not going to listen to me anymore. Be safe that is all I can say.”

“Sure, Ma. Pass the information to Appa.” The call ended.

Why do I travel alone home? She always asked me. And I always asked her back “Why should I not?” It irritated her, mostly made her afraid for me. The media gave her enough news feed of the ruthless ways girls and women were raped. But to me it was mostly the thrill and the freedom travelling alone gave me-it was an adventure in its own right, essentially an affordable one unlike trekking and skiing. There was fear, of course, but it seemed like I believed in the goodness of humans even more!

I was not the only girl though, two girls had occupied the seats beside me, heading home like myself I guessed by the big bags they were carrying which had them gasping.

As soon as they caught their breath, they lost it again! The reason this time however was a handsome looking boy crossing us. One of them commented, “Handsome boys are good for the eyes.” But they are not as good to the nose I thought, as the powerful scent he used choked me.

Then, I lost my thoughts to the bus stand buzz- the conductors’ recitals of places en-route, the shop vendors luring in customers and the hustle-bustle of the passenger population as such along with the blaring horns, the bright lights, from the shops as well as the vehicles that robbed the night time of it quiet and darkness.

Of the noise, I tuned in to the announcements that were being made through the public address system. It warned every passenger of theft hinting that any of the co-passengers could be a potential robber! Slightly feeling unsettled about it I zipped my cell phone into the innermost counters of my bag and shot a side ward glance towards the girls sitting beside me, for assurance. That is the thing about travelling alone, my safety becomes my own responsibility. My intuition, the only thing I could rely upon had me take the steely resolve of trying my best not to sleep to avoid anything undesired.

Along with the start of my battle against sleep, the bus too began its journey, inching slowly at first and then gathering momentum, not too much though.

The winds gushed in through the window with its violent whispering and spilt into directions as it washed through me. It appeared to me that the moon followed and it did so to give me a celestial company! That very thought gave me a childish strength against my growing fears about the hours of travel alone! I wondered how dry life would be if we dint have such abilities to believe in things that can never be backed up by logic!

The girls next to me had their headsets plugged to their ears, the volume extremely high so high that the headsets were not serving their purpose. I had to signal them when the conductor had come to collect the tickets. Their obsession with their smart-phones gave no room for me to start any conversation with them. So I shut my eyes, listened to the winds and got lost in the myriad of my thoughts-voices inside my head, only sometimes opening my eyes to ensure I don’t fall asleep and to keep track of things around.

The lights would go off soon, so for an apparent assurance of my own security I strained my neck to survey the entire bus. The sad news was the number of women passenger was meagre. To give myself positive affirmations and to pass time (without sleeping, of course) I studied my co-passengers. Most men-the old ones who snored(the background score) all night and I could make out that younger ones who travelled for business reasons as I had brief spells of laughter(the comedy) listening to the broken Indian-ized English in which they reported the events of the day to their bosses and others like me were travelling back home from their hostels and a few young couples-they were a regular feature and I learnt to know where the murmurs or swishes and swashes came from-it made up for the “romance” factor of the travel! I checked my watch the movi(ng) of “the travel” was to continue for 8 more hours.

For the rest of my time, I just stared out of the window into the darkness; the moon was still on my trail. Lorries drove past us, luxury buses zoomed with a violent buzz,  its passengers unaware of most of the difficulties travelling long distance in an ordinary bus would present, all these comforts in exchange for the big fare they demand. Money bridged the distance between the “wants” and the “haves”, doesn’t it?

The bus was now out of town and the lights went out, fear and ignorance wrapped me, for I felt more unguarded and more vulnerable to men who were inclined to attempt any form of physical abuse for now they had the blanket of anonymity.

For women and girls like me who could not afford to be pampered with the luxuries of posh travel, there existed several levels of exploitation, ranging from obnoxious comments, piercing glances to physical contacts that made us feel shameful and degraded.

A prayer kept ringing in my mind non-stop to all the 33 million gods (and counting) that Indians believed to save me from any mishap in this travel. The idea of “God” is one of the best antidotes to fear mankind as invented, so it eventually helped me feel better and I let sleep win the battle.

I jolted to consciousness as the bus screeched to a halt at the tea point. The conductor, the driver and the men who were in the bus got down to have tea or just to stretch and heal themselves of the cramps caused by the travel, the ladies however did not get down, it was a rule that was followed every time I was on travel. I dint well understand the reason but followed suite, though I wished I could have a chance to change my posture and relax my muscles. I just wore my spectacles and watched the people at the tea shop. It seemed like profitable business happening there as more buses halted to have tea.

Slowly my attention drifted to the construction site beside the tea point. I am sure I heard her anklets that chimed a little too much. But soon I realized I was not the only person who noticed her. The yellow sari that wrapped her contrasted the darkness of the night and it had a sensuous tinge to it as she walked exhibiting her womanly distinctions.

The “dark lady” settled on the heap of sand and inviting attention. It was odd for a “normal” lady to behave that way. Everything about her that registered in my observation re-organized in my mind, and I let out a low cry, ”O my god!”,  as it dawned on me that I was watching a sex-worker! Feeling shaken on the revelation, I thought with disgust and rage on how the woman was keen on capitalising on her sexuality, more rage built when it dawned on me as to the acute poverty that would have pushed her do this, for this cannot be anybody’s first choice. The bus started again, I saw her being accompanied by a man out of sight. The conclusion that the “one-night-sex” will buy her and maybe her kids some more days of survival helped me to subside the high emotions I felt. The engine of the bus pulled on and I tried to put out the image of the woman out of my mind. Money had the power to make people do anything for it- it was disheartening to accept that. Sleep rescued me from the inconvenience.

When my body registered a drop in the temperature I became excited for it was the signal that I will be home in less than an hour. I managed to be awake till the bus parked at the station and I was gleaming as I was to set foot on the grounds of my home town, feeling as triumphant as Neil Armstrong when he landed on the moon, for it was a feat for me to land home safe, my virginity uncompromised and definitely out of danger! And I blew a “thank you” to the gods who seemed to have heard my prayers and all those decent men who had abided by the Indian pledge of “All Indians are my brothers and SISTERS…”.

I informed home of my arrival and waited for one of them to come and accompany home. There was a considerable distance between the bus stand and my home, so it took some time for my Appa to come and pick me up. Meantime, I could feel the “let-me-check-out” glances and stares from the men around. In the initial stages of my womanhood, I had thought of these glances as appreciations of the beauty that belonged to the young woman blooming into myself. Later I understood the truth of it. So I avoid any chance of inviting those, but it seemed impossible because they set their expectations at the bare minimum- womanhood, a fact that I cannot abandon or hide. Their stares were at times so intensive that a girl might as well feel naked herself. It seemed to me that the rationale behind the reduction in the layers of clothing women wore was partly because of global warming and partly because men made her feel uncomfortable whatever the case maybe (so what is the point?!). Though it was a funny observation, a sad truth was hidden in it- men have not yet learnt to respect the other half of humanity even after all these years. It was rage and a pity that their sexual interests took over their common sense so easily.

I saw my Appa waving at me and we were home in minutes. Appa was starting for work, so we had a quick conversation, a ritual for three years now.

“ How was the travel? Any problems?”

“ Thank goodness! Not a single one!” Even if I had one, I never elaborated because first place there is no much use other than he getting all worried and helpless.

“GoodJ get some sleep. Will talk to you once I get home back.”

“ SureJ”

The door slammed and it announced that he was gone to work.

“ He is gone?”

“ Yes, you heard it.”

“ You know Renu, I am telling you this considering you as my friend.”

I knew instantly that I was up to take up my peace-maker role.

“ I am your friend Ma. Go ahead.”

“It is getting really difficult to get along with your father. We will be celebrating his 50^th birthday soon and still he has not learnt how to be patient and act calm.”

“ Ma, what has age got to do with “patience”? Do you think you are the way your age indicates you to be?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fine, do you think others think about you the same way?”

“Of course.”

“Well I DON’T.”

“Why ?”(her voice was becoming sterner)

“Because you are complaining to me like a five year old child.”

“Renu, I told you I am sharing this with you as I would to my friend.”

“ It makes no difference whether you complain to your friend or to your daughter.“(I dared not to let out a chuckle)

“Yes, I now understand it fully well, it makes NO DIFFERENCE whom I share it with! Nothing is going to change. I have got to tolerate all the non-sense.”( she had gone red with anger)

“I did not mean that Ma. I just wanted to convey that age is just a number and ageing does not necessarily translate into any significant changes in one’s behaviour or character. I see it happening in me. I am 21 and you think I feel any different than I did 10 years back?”

She allowed me to go on.

“ Well, actually the difference is only marginal. You know it. As a matter of fact, I thought what a 21 year old must do when I was 10 years old, but now I am completely clueless and you know that too.”

“But Renu dear, I am not expecting your father to become an enlightened being. I just wish he learns to be more patient and not lose his temper and shout at me. I am growing old as well and I can’t be perfect and I feel so humiliated every time he makes a face even in the public. How much more compromising should you think I should be on my self-respect?”

“I understand totally. What I want you to understand is it is futile to wait for such a time when Appa is going to be a very calm and patient person. It may not happen in the next 100 years. But he loves us and we understand that and we got to love him as he is and stop waiting for him to become something he might not turn out to be!”

My mom was fighting back tears.

“ I don’t mean to say you got to compromise your self-respect. As far as I understand things, being angry and worse not being able to control it is a weakness but on the other hand to remain silent for a better ending of things is much power. And after all, you are a couple, right? He is a part of your-self, so should be a part of your self-respect as wellJ”

She smiled! Thankfully! I thought I stepped a little too much beyond my limits.

“ I am unable to comprehend if you are defending your dad or saying plain simple beautiful truths. But whatever it is, you speak so beautifully my girl! It’s just that I got really hurt when he shouted at me when we were at Revathi’s (my aunt) house-warming ceremony in front of the whole gathering. He is good at heart, I have known that always.”

“ That’s it Ma. You got the point. Come on, now get busy in preparing your unbeatable recipes so that my taste buds can be resurrected once again.”

Saying so I kissed her forehead and wiped the tears that had flooded her cheeks and she rose to get back to work.

“ Sure, papa. Go and get some sleep, you should be so tired.”

I thought of discussing this with Appa. But then considered it useless.  It was an unwritten rule that we changed to suite him and not the other way round, not that we are not used to it or it was difficult but just that that it was not funny all the time. Most men become great dads but of them many fall short of making up into good husbands how many ever marriage-years pass-our family was not an exception to this almost general rule! So it is a common thing, nothing to fuss about, saying so I deleted any further thought about it.

I occupied my bed feeling blessed and content, the world dint matter anymore, more than this piece of earth that bore my family. Before I drifted out of consciousness I felt my mom pull over a bed sheet over me, feeling over-whelmed with both emotion and exhaustion, I allowed my eyelids to shut.

The world is good after all!!