Four Wheels
I fastened my seat belt. My daughter was driving. According to her, we were going for a stroll in this city that we rarely visited. We came to this city, now and then, to visit friends and relatives. Little did anyone know that this city meant so much to me. Today, I decided, it was time to visit a place and let myself know that it was as tangible in reality as it felt.
As I rolled down the window, and peeped out to receive a fresh breeze of air that hit my face, I couldn’t help but reminisce those days and those memories that were still close to my heart.
Girls these days, wear torn pants, T shirts, mini skirts and what not, to college. I wore cotton sarees. Rarely, one or two salwar suits that my uncle got for me from Bombay. Everyone had cycles at home (pollution free world) and scooters were a rarity. I always loved Chemistry and wanted to major in Chemistry. College was a really happy phase.
There used to be only one bus that could take me from home to college. The bus was always crowded and the frequency of the bus was too low. One bus in one hour. I had to walk a mile from home to the bus stop and just like now, I was always running late — literally. Wearing a cotton saree and with long hair like I had back then, running in itself was a task. My dear good friend Seeta, faithfully waited for me at the bus stop. She was my friend and companion throughout the long bus rides for the three years. We’ll somehow find a seat and talk about everything under the sun — the people in the bus, classmates, our class routine, the latest movies — everything. The bus played the latest songs during the evenings and we’d happily listen to those songs and reach home. Those were happy days.. until, I met.. him.
I was in the end of the second year of college. Everything was just the same — except that there was a new passenger in the bus on a regular basis. You might wonder how I knew who the new addition to a crowded bus was, yeah right, at first I had no clue. But it was a small town and there were only a specific set of people who travelled in the same route on a regular basis, and that face, was hard to miss. It was during one rainy evening, that I saw him, me and Seeta, standing near the stairs in the heavily crowded bus. He ran up to the moving bus, thrust in my hands his books, and got on. Nobody can miss those hazel eyes, on a face like milk and the dark hair that reflected the evening sunset. At least, I didn’t. I remember quickly regaining composure, giving back his books and walking on towards the empty seat.
I forgot all about him until I saw him the next evening, waiting in our bus stop. His tucked in grey shirt, black pants and shoes, they were different. All the others I have seen, including my brother wore casual clothes or that’s what it seemed like, to me. I looked away quickly. He got onto our bus. And got down 3 stops before mine. I assumed he was from the boys college that was near ours. He looked like he was older than me. What did he do? What was he studying? Where did he live? Why suddenly this bus? — Well, why was I wondering so much? I stopped myself.
The next day, the day after, even the day after that, I caught myself looking forward for the evening. One day, the music was too loud, I had settled down in my window seat, with Seeta next to me, he got on via the front door of the bus and he looked only at me until he crossed my seat. Wait. Did that actually happen? Or was it my imagination!?
It became a routine of sorts — me waiting to see him, him getting on and us exchanging a few glances. I thought it was just me who was aware of this until Seeta nudged me and asked me what was going on. I brushed it off as nothing. I remember the first time it happened, he got down at his stop, I looked out the window from the corner of my eye, and he came towards the window from the outside and gave me a meaningful look. The next day evening I saw him talking to a few of his friends. I got on to the bus. The bus was starting and he was still talking. In a few minutes, the bus started moving and he still hadn’t gotten on. Something in my chest felt heavy. I couldn’t breathe and I realised I was choking and on the verge of tears. Seeta asked me what was wrong and I didn’t bother to answer her. He probably didn’t care about travelling in the bus with me. Who knew, he might have been seeing even Seeta or any other girl for that matter. Maybe this meant nothing to him and it was me who had misunderstood all along. I felt bad. There had been days when I had been really sick and still managed to come to college, only for these glances. I felt broken.. my mind was whirling when Seeta nudged me. I didn’t turn. “Madam, stop overthinking and look around”, she said. Something in her voice caught me off guard and I unwillingly turned around. I saw those eyes, sitting in the last seat and a triumphant smile winning over my already lost heart. I don’t know how my face looked at that moment, but I knew, there was nothing more to hide and I had given myself away. His triumphant smile was proof of that. I turned back, feeling highly irritated letting in an unwilling smile that fought to creep onto my face. Suddenly, there was more oxygen in the air.
I knew nothing about him, except that there was something, some electricity, some spark between us. Weekends were the worst. I always dreaded Friday evening. I wished for the bus to slow down, but Fridays were always a blur. The next week Seeta was down with fever and her brother came home and informed me about it. This meant I was alone with him and in a crowded bus, him and me were only present, in my mind. On Monday evening, the bus was not crowded. A shocking change. I was probably early. I got onto and empty seat and moved closer to the window. I saw him walking towards the bus. He caught my eye and I quickly put my head in. I didn’t even know his name. He wore a T shirt that day. A beige one with high collars. He got on to the bus. All I could think of was about the empty seats — especially the one next to me. I saw his shoes moving towards me from the stairs. My heart beat really fast as his shoes crossed the first empty seat, then the next pair and then the one right before mine where it came to a halt. I felt my heart in my mouth and I frantically looked up. I could feel my face becoming beetroot red as I saw his up close for the first time. He looked even more handsome. His mouth sported a smirk. He moved forward closer to my seat.. crossed mine and sat in the seat exactly behind me. I am sure I remember my heart stopping to beat. My ears felt clogged. I could hear nothing. My brain went blank. I was hyper aware of his presence just behind me. And only after he got down did my body temperature return to normal. I couldn’t sleep that night.
Two days later, I had my final practical exam. Yes. I was in the last month of my final year, and college life was ending, which meant, the obvious. The exam went on till much later that evening. Seeta missed her practicals. (She took it up separately.) I was sure I was going to be really late and miss the 5 PM bus and my favourite moments of our numbered days together. It was 6:45 by the time I came out of college. I felt really miserable and walked slowly, feeling very lonely and scared, to the bus stop. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw him sitting in the bus stop, calmly reading a book. Suddenly my world felt much safer. I went there and he hadn’t looked up. I felt so happy to see him, so happy, that I am not able to put it into words. It was pitch dark and when the street lights came on, he finally looked up. He spotted me and didn’t smile. Instead he caught my eye and I don’t know how long we looked at each other. He finally looked into his watch and looked at me, as if to ask me why I was late. I didn’t even respond. I stood there transfixed. That was it. That night I slept peacefully after a very long time, feeling very happy.
Came, the last week of college. I told myself I should find out something about him. I hadn’t even heard his voice properly apart from him asking the conductor for a ticket. I had to find out something! Monday went and so did Tuesday. Wednesday, me and Seeta were in our seats, with me occupying the aisle side seat, on the evening bus. He was standing and after a particular stop, the gents side on my right, became empty. I mustered up courage and looked back to where he was standing. Effortlessly, I caught his eye, since he was already looking. I purposefully looked into the empty seat near me and looked back at him — right into his eyes. He got it. He occupied the empty seat.
I still feel a stab of pain and a surge of emotion when I think about the last day of college. Our farewell was done. I was the saddest in our class, not because I will miss them all, of course I did, but, I had no clue as to what will happen to me and Mr mine, in our bus. Me and Seeta went to xerox shop to take a copy of our hall tickets. I was really distracted and as usual I felt a nudge. I looked up to see him standing in front of us. I could most definitely hear the thud of my heart in my ears. He asked for something to me. I could only see the way his lips moved but could not fathom any of the words. Only when Seeta gave him her pen, did I know what he asked. Seeta always had a habit of writing her name in a piece of paper, rolling it and inserting it in the transparent part of her pen, so that the pen read her name. He took the pen and said, “Seeta?”. His voice was crisp, like sunshine on a frozen piece of moss. I shook my head. He looked at me expectantly and I said one word. My name. He repeated it, with a look of awe. My name sounded divine, coming out from his mouth. I nodded. He handed me a card and said, “This is my address. You can contact me here and I am Harsh. Harsh Kanzara. “ I didn’t react. My eyes were pooling up. He gave me a sad smile that told me so much more. He walked backwards still looking at me. I knew he won’t be on the bus that evening and both of us won’t be on the bus any more. I couldn’t look up. I couldn’t see him walk away. I held on to the card like I was holding on to dear life and Seeta, kept quiet. Now you know why she was my best friend. Not until I came home did I looked into the card. 4, Harrington Road, Madras. Harsh Kanzara. What a weird, yet beautiful name.
A loud horn brought me back to my senses. My daughter asked me if I was alright. I couldn’t believe that 25 years had passed since then. I checked into Google maps. We were still on track. I guided her to take the next left. Harrington Road, said the sign board. We crossed number one, two and then came four. A musical studio stood there. Harsh musicals. It said. Somewhere inside it, was Mr mine, now somebody else’s probably. We had reached our destination. I sat there looking at it from across the road. A young boy, about my daughter’s age came out of the musicals. He gave me a brief look and turned away until he looked back again and paused. Something in me told me, the boy recognised me. I quickly turned away and asked my daughter to start driving again.
Was that love?
If that wasn’t love, what was?
