TRAVEL

I stand in the pouring rain, no umbrella, no raincoat, friendless and soaked.

Nasty share-auto drivers career past wildly, ignoring my franctic waving and splatter my cargoes with puddle-mud.

Finally a nice guy slows down. The Relief. I practically run towards the auto, when suddenly he decides I'm not depressed enough, and takes off, leaving me bewildered, sinking deeper into the pothole of self-pity and misery.

It takes a further half-hour to find a share auto that stops and transports me to a bus-stop. I decompose there for another three-quarters of an hour, waiting for the suddenly-infrequent 29C to make an appearance.

When it does, its full. When I say full, its an understatement.There are atleast a hundred misbegotten sons of misfortune inside that big green bus. I jump on anyway, being a little teeny weeny bit desperate.


Hanging from a bus by one hand, something I promised my mother I'd never do, the rain washes me clean, and the wind gets me high.

Sheer Adrenalin.



Eventually the bus begins to empty, and only five people are left.

One man, his teeth stained with paan, stands at the door. Suddenly, he begins to sing. He looks so marvadi, that I expect it to be in hindi, but guess what, he sings a raunchy item number from Gemini.

Another sits at the back, cursing the rain blurred surroundings, softly but vehemently.

At home, hot food.