Wrong Signal

The previous night’s showers had left the weather cool, the trees green, the roads slushy and the city wet and shiny. As gusts of cool air blew in through the open shutters of the bus, onto my face, my eyelids grew heavy, and sleep slowly sealed them close. I swayed to the rhythm of the bus, which turned at every turn, jerked at every pot hole and screeched to a halt at every bus stop.

In my drowsy state, I held on to the metal bar (supposed to be the head-rest) behind the seat in front me so that I wouldn’t fall off the aisle seat I was sitting on. The bus moved on, bringing in cooler, fresher air as it gathered momentum. And suddenly, SCREEEEEECH!

I woke up, finding myself being flung onto that metal bar, almost banging my head, courtesy, the sudden brake. As I breathed a sigh of relief, I noticed, my hand was actually resting on a guy’s, who was using the same bar to hold on to dear life. The guy threw me ‘a look’. I quickly pulled back my hand, adjusted the dupatta, smoothed my hair and looked out of the window. The buses around here are famed for eve-teasers and gropers. I sincerely hoped I hadn’t come across as a female version.

The bus went on smoothly, some more fresh air. And once again, I dozed off, this time, even dreaming of something. A little puppy, if I remember it right. I touched the pup’s soft, smooth and round head. But why did it feel bumpy?

A God-sent reckless biker brought our bus to a sudden halt and I woke up. I had been running my fingers over the same guy’s knuckles. Embarrassed beyond as embarrassed, embarrassed could be, I slowly brought my hand to my lap. I wondered if the lady sitting next to me, or the ones behind, had witnessed the short knuckle-massage.

Did they think I was kinky? What would the guy have thought? I saw him move away to a seat just seconds later. Oh my God! Did he really think I was groping? What if the bus hadn’t come to a halt? Would I have taken his hand in mine, and stroked it affectionately, thinking it to be the puppy? Is there anyway I can jump out of this bus? I didn’t sleep a wink during the reminder of the journey. I couldn’t.

As I was getting down I saw that guy. Yes, the one harassed, victimized, whatever. I was tingling with mortification when I saw him looking at me. His face had a look that was half aati-kya-khandala and half aaja-meri-gaadi-mein-bethja. Disgusted, I hopped off the bus as fast as I could, twisting my feet in the process. I had only my late-night reading session which kept me awake till around 2 a.m., to blame.

Having related this incident to some really ‘naïve’ minds who never forget to remind me of it time and again and even advise me on making the massage longer and better the next time, I really see no harm in sharing this with you. The damage is already done.

PS: I won't be around for sometime...Going to be busy with sister's wedding and other stuff. Will be back with plenty tales, hopefully. Take care everyone! :)