Dark Horse Arts and Sciences

It’s raining outside as I stare at the passing trees through the window of the bus in which I am travelling right now to Bhubaneswar. My front seat is quiet and empty, eagerly waiting for its passenger. I am listening to Bollywood romantic songs on my phone. I will never get tired of listening to those songs. Those songs are imprinted in my subconscious since the day I first listened to them. However, I am enjoying this lonely ride on this half empty bus on a Saturday evening.

After some time, at one stop, a girl walks into the bus with her pink umbrella. Her side arm has got a bit wet due to the rain. She comes straight to my front empty seat and seats herself comfortably after folding her umbrella back. She is wearing a yellow kurta or something I am not sure what it’s called. But to be frank, it really suits her personality and looks. Her hair is combed back in a very neat manner and she looks like one of those girls who really takes care of her hair. She is also wearing large earrings which are slightly hidden beneath her well placed hair. Just over on her forehead, she has put on a black tiny bindi, right between two well shaved eyebrows, ultimately enhancing the beauty of her already impressive face-cutting. Upon further noticing, I can observe a really beautiful symmetry around her face as I try to look closer. I just hope she is not thinking me as a stalker as I have been observing her for last five minutes or so. She is also wearing a yellow ring in her right hand. I have never put on any ring in my life as I don’t like it that much. Maybe she likes jewellery as most girls do. There is a certain charisma in her appearance, a calm and collective vibration that one would feel if one is somewhere near her. She is like a dove, a sign of peace.

What I get most attracted to about her is her smile, a smile that can relax you and comfort you however chaotic or complex your situation is, though I have no idea what lies under that radiating smile. Some people hide too much pain inside in the disguise of a smile, but I just hope she is not one of them. Her smile is radiating from those elegant pair of pink, folded lips. I envy her lover, who will one day kiss her on her curved lips. She is holding a Durjoy Datta book in her left hand. I haven’t read this one, but I would love to discuss its content with her, in the process knowing her personality a bit more than what I can surmise from my mere observation.

Then suddenly she asks me something as I take out my headphone to listen to her query. She asks me how long it will take to reach Bhubaneswar from here. I tell her the time. Maybe this is her first time going from Cuttack to Bhubaneswar. Then I gathered some courage to ask about her whereabouts, like where she is from and all. And then slowly and gradually, we delve deep into our whereabouts with a bit of small talk, until I ask her what the book is about. She tells me the plot of her story. While explaining the plot to me, I observe a sudden flow of excitement and enthusiasm in her eyes. I can see clearly how passionate she is about this book and especially about reading. She must be an avid reader, I surmised. Then without me asking, she talks about her favorite authors. I don’t say anything. I just listen to her, dumbstruck and startled at the amount of information she has about books and authors. She must also be a writer, I suppose. I ask her about it and she says yes. She starts describing her journey as a writer and what led her to practice this beautiful piece of art called writing. In those few moments, I see a sparkle in her eyes, as if she has suddenly risen from a phase of monotonous slumber.

Half an hour passed like this as we kept discussing various aspects of reading, writing, and life. I could clearly see that passion in her. And the most surprising and funny fact now is that we still haven’t known each other’s names. I think we don’t even need to. Name is just a term to identify people. I don’t think it’s necessary or required when two people are already connected on very high ground.

Her way of talking also hits me right into my heart as the sweetness of her voice can really melt someone’s heart. But I try to remain strong in that area. I didn’t want my heart to fall for any kind of emotional trap here, that too with a stranger.

Then slowly she unravels about her struggling days and how she has coped and finally overcome her days of utter hopelessness and desolation. I feel a bit pity for her, but I feel very glad that she fought through it and now she is a completely different person from what she was.

The bus stop is almost there. She is only seconds away from leaving this bus. Somewhere inside, honestly, I don’t want her to leave so early. I want to know her more deeply. I want to keep talking to her until I get completely tired. While listening to her story of depression and loneliness, I don’t know why, but at that moment, I wanted to give her a tight hug, embrace her within my arms and give her all the comfort in the world. I wanted her to know that though I am a stranger, I know what you have gone through. I wanted to comfort her through my words, but I didn’t say anything. I just let her talk about everything she had inside her suppressed for so long.

In those half an hour, I found a friend in her, a companion, but after that half an hour, she would be gone. It was a friendship of momentary existence, yet a quality one, a million times better than casual tinder hookups and one-night stands. In those half an hour, I fell in and out of love with a completely different person, a stranger, one whom I will never forget. And yeah I asked her name at the end. Don’t think me that dumb to have not asked her that. As she was just going to the exit gate of the bus, I ask her, and from her mouth comes a beautiful, resonating, and sweet name called, “Sriya”.