Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Mapusa-bound




Mapusa-bound


     Laxmi sat at the window of the bus, gripping her bag firmly in her lap. It was a cool October evening and leaves drifted lazily in the breeze as the bus dawdled towards Porvorim. But Laxmi gazed at the passing scenery on her right with unseeing indifference. What intrigued her was the man seated at her left. He seemed to be in his thirties, neatly dressed in a half-sleeved shirt and jeans, with his hands casually resting on his thighs.
 The barren rocks of Porvorim with its ugly nouveau-riche buildings streamed past her window, with an occasional old house putting up a defiant show of dignity.
She looked sideways at his hands and noticed the curly black hair on his forearm and the veins on the back of his hand. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Her inhaling had pushed her shoulders deeper into his side and she flushed all over.
She wondered who he was, Hindu or Christian, married or unmarried. There was no ring on his finger, but many married men didn’t wear one. Was he salaried or into some kind of business? A salary would keep life steady, business brought risks.
She was bound for Mapusa, like most of the passengers on the bus. There, her maternal aunt awaited her with another of her endless marriage proposals. Of late, getting Laxmi married seemed to be Sheelatai’s primary mission in life.
What right did anyone have to force an arranged marriage on her, she grumbled silently. She could break this inevitable pattern of her life. Why, she could even talk to this stranger sitting next to her right now and take control of her life. She would talk to him, they would converse. He would then invite her for tea at the Mapusa bus stand. They would meet again, fall in love and get married and have children. He would be her choice, their love affair would be her adventure. Then someday they would travel by bus together like this and she would fall asleep with her head resting on his gently rocking shoulder.
But what girl would initiate a conversation with a strange man on a bus! Shameless! What would he think! But why not? She was a modern, broad-minded girl. Dressed in a skirt and blouse as against the sari that her mother had advised her to wear!
Maybe an interesting magazine she was reading might have sparked his interest, but she had no magazine with her.
Talk to me, talk to me, she mentally urged him, say something, anything! But his eyes kept travelling idly outside the window and back inside the bus. He too seemed lost in thought. Thinking of his wife and kids? Work? Girlfriend? She would ask him if he was married. How! Within ten minutes, before reaching Mapusa and the waiting Sheelatai? Relax, she could ask him the next time they met. But what if they never met again? His deodorant smelt heady. Laxmi inhaled deeply. Her shoulders dug into his side again and she blushed at the increased contact.
She was prone to fantasy like this. The art teacher at school, Pundalik – her cousin from Shiroda, even Shirish – the young bhat who performed puja at their place, she had had torrid affairs with them all. Never mind that she had never exchanged more than a few words with them. The imaginary liaisons were exhausting enough.
She decided she would ask him a casual question. ‘Do you know where Pharma Labs is located in Mapusa?’ But when? Now? Yes, now, she decided to ask the question five seconds from now. She looked at her watch, 5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1! She turned around and mumbled, ‘Excuse me …’ But she choked the rest off as he had turned to the bus conductor to pay his fare. She fumbled in her bag and paid her own. He hadn’t heard her.
She had lost her nerve now. She lapsed back to curious wondering. Would he like her? Was she likeable? Her clothes, her speech, her smile, were they good? Did people like her? If they did, why did they?
He hadn't moved any closer, but Laxmi was intensely aware of the side of his thigh touching hers. Her skirt and skin felt warmer, and she shifted slightly to relieve the heat.
Shameless! Going to see a prospective match and lusting after a stranger on the bus! She was sceptical of Sheelatai’s matches. Those fellows always fell short. One was handsome, but a Mama’s boy. Another was good looking and rich, but kept making sniffing sounds every seven seconds. She had timed him. And then there was the goldsmith whose ears bloomed with hair and whose eyes were constantly fixed six inches below her chin.
Maybe if she were not happy in her marriage, she would have an affair with a man like the one seated to her left. Stop! Stop! Shameless bitch! The more she tried to rein in her imagination, the more perverse it became. Her mind filled with thoughts of straddling him in his seat, pulling his face into her breasts and kissing the top of his head.
In desperation, she suddenly turned around to him again and said ‘Hi!’ But at that very moment, the bus horn blared and her courageous greeting was drowned out. He had begun dozing lightly. She turned back to the window, red and furious with herself.
She had tired herself with these bouts of fantasy and began dozing off too. Her nodding head slowly slumped to rest against the man’s shoulder. She remained asleep in that position as the bus rumbled past the suburbs of Mapusa.
The man sat still, half drowsy. He dared not move for fear of waking the sleeping girl at his shoulder. But as the bus entered Mapusa bus stand, he gently nudged her awake.
‘We’ve reached,’ he half-whispered to her.
She sat up straight and then sleepily observed him as he collected his newspaper from the overhead rack, glanced quickly at his watch, and headed for the door.
Laxmi watched from her window as the bus emptied out and some passengers headed off walking while others moved towards the rickshaw stand, and new passengers began to board the bus for its return journey.



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2 comments:

  1. Lovely story, I hope it gets the audience it deserves here on the Internet.

    ReplyDelete
  2. These thoughts have happened to me too, many a times.... interesting to know, everyone has them! Lovely writing, well expressed 👍

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