The trip continues

Continued from The trip begins.

We always wait for something to happen. It is this anticipation that we call hope. But so immersed are we in this anticipation that we fail to recognise that our needs have always been fulfilled even before we resolve that need. All you ever wanted in your life - they are right here, in front of your eyes. Go and grasp it before it vanishes in a puff of green smoke.

Enchantments - they are nothing but the frequent lies that we uncover. Once the charm fails, the truth shall out. But are you ready for the truth?

Traveling in a typical South Indian bus can be quite harrowing and overpowering for a newbie. There are so many people that you come in close contact with. There are so many stories that you hear. And the bus has always been the best storyteller.

The grime from the rusty and wet window is something that remains foremost upon anyone's mind that has been on such a bus. The grime and the sweat. The bittersweet essence of humanity. Hardly an endearing aspect of our race. But I wanted this - to lose myself in this sea; to try and forget the smell of deoderants and flavoured cappuccinos. To try and be human.

I didn't know what I was waiting for as I stared out the window. Inspite of my long speeches about the love for humanity, I couldn't wait to set my eyes at the distant, darkening horizon to diminsh any awareness that I might have had of the world inside the bus. The world inside the bus was ugly. It was full of drunk college professors and obese housewives. The kids were obnoxious as ever, throwing up and eating spiced cucumber at the same time.

Now, spiced cucumber is probably the cornerstone of any bus travel within Tamil Nadu. The hawkers swoop in around the bus as soon as the black smoke from the exhaust mingles with the smell of urine in the bus stand. These sellers are true dare-devils. They often do not care if the bus is going to leave within the next thirty seconds. They will still manage to make the sale. And they can get you a change for 500 bucks if only you are ready to buy the cucumber with chilli powder wrapped in an old tamil newspaper that proudly proclaims the improving health condition of MGR.

One of the main events that led to me sitting in that rickety bus that shook with every passing breeze was my want to plunge back into a world that I had only just about started to explore before it had been taken away from me rudely. I am, of course, talking about my curious childhood. I was born just at the time when telephones were fast becoming an essential commodity. Before I could revel in obscurity, I had my mind numbed by the reality shows. And just when I had discovered that touring talkies were making their rounds in my hometown, we had bought a video cassette player. I am not a technology-hater. I just happen to be someone always stuck in the wrong time. But in this travel, I had planned to wrestle with time and stop it.

But none of this made me want to buy the cucumber.

This might end up as the starting of some chapter in my book. And this might be continued as well..