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Short Story Contest
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[2018, Nov] An hour in the corporation bus
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All the countries and cultures are becoming progressive. Technology is increasing by leaps and bounds. The world is becoming smarter. And yet, there are still some traditions still followed without worrying about the consequences.
I tried to imagine her plight during her teenage pregnancy. I’m all of thirty-three years old and I still freak out thinking about having to bear a child for nine months. I doubt if she even understood menstruation before she was married off. Oh my god!
I was engrossed in my thoughts when the fat lady on my right thrust herself crushing her bust into me, again. I squirm and move to the left as far as I could - all of one inch. I can’t move any further for fear of doing the same deeply disturbing bosom hug with my standing co-passenger on my left. The next stop is nearing and I expertly maneuver my body yet again. Two teenage boys, possibly college students, miss me by merely a nanometre. A successful dodge, hurray! The uniform-clad woman got up. Oh god! Did I offend her by frequently moving too close to her face? No. It seems like she is about to alight.
My stop is still quite ahead. And besides, standing and getting touched is becoming too much to handle. I quickly sit down in the emptied seat. I throw a little smile to my fellow passenger. She returned the smile.
“Can I hold her?” I gestured towards the little girl.
“Sure.” She handed me the baby and I carefully held her.
“You look very young to be a mother,” I commented.
“She is sixteen now.” The woman in her thirty responded from the back seat.
“Oh my… you got married young?”
“I did, as did my mother and her mother.” She turned and pointed to the two ladies. I was too shocked for a while to respond. What I had before me was four generations of women and three generations of underage mothers. What would this girl’s fate be? I felt a lump in my throat.
I judge people by how they behave in a crowd. I feel disgusted when I have to be in public places. I frown when travelling in the office bus. I feel anger when people pester me to have a baby, as I feel I still have time and I should be allowed to live my life on my terms. This is the moment of epiphany. I have been taking far too many things for granted. I have been cribbing about far too many aspects of my life not being perfect. I have been keeping a grudge against the privileged ones. And I am just realizing that I am privileged.
I quickly change the subject for fear that I would choke on my tears.
Just before alighting I quickly check my belongings, take out a neatly folded five hundred rupees note from a small pocket of my purse, and slip it into the baby’s fingers.
“What is this didi3?”
“Just buy something for her and a pair of slippers for yourself. Bye.”
I get down and before entering the office premises, send a message on WhatsApp.
“Sunil, sweetheart, I think it’s time we have a baby.”
I know. India’s population already stands at 1.3 billion. What difference is one more going to make? It will be my first child.
** The End **
I tried to imagine her plight during her teenage pregnancy. I’m all of thirty-three years old and I still freak out thinking about having to bear a child for nine months. I doubt if she even understood menstruation before she was married off. Oh my god!
I was engrossed in my thoughts when the fat lady on my right thrust herself crushing her bust into me, again. I squirm and move to the left as far as I could - all of one inch. I can’t move any further for fear of doing the same deeply disturbing bosom hug with my standing co-passenger on my left. The next stop is nearing and I expertly maneuver my body yet again. Two teenage boys, possibly college students, miss me by merely a nanometre. A successful dodge, hurray! The uniform-clad woman got up. Oh god! Did I offend her by frequently moving too close to her face? No. It seems like she is about to alight.
My stop is still quite ahead. And besides, standing and getting touched is becoming too much to handle. I quickly sit down in the emptied seat. I throw a little smile to my fellow passenger. She returned the smile.
“Can I hold her?” I gestured towards the little girl.
“Sure.” She handed me the baby and I carefully held her.
“You look very young to be a mother,” I commented.
“She is sixteen now.” The woman in her thirty responded from the back seat.
“Oh my… you got married young?”
“I did, as did my mother and her mother.” She turned and pointed to the two ladies. I was too shocked for a while to respond. What I had before me was four generations of women and three generations of underage mothers. What would this girl’s fate be? I felt a lump in my throat.
I judge people by how they behave in a crowd. I feel disgusted when I have to be in public places. I frown when travelling in the office bus. I feel anger when people pester me to have a baby, as I feel I still have time and I should be allowed to live my life on my terms. This is the moment of epiphany. I have been taking far too many things for granted. I have been cribbing about far too many aspects of my life not being perfect. I have been keeping a grudge against the privileged ones. And I am just realizing that I am privileged.
I quickly change the subject for fear that I would choke on my tears.
Just before alighting I quickly check my belongings, take out a neatly folded five hundred rupees note from a small pocket of my purse, and slip it into the baby’s fingers.
“What is this didi3?”
“Just buy something for her and a pair of slippers for yourself. Bye.”
I get down and before entering the office premises, send a message on WhatsApp.
“Sunil, sweetheart, I think it’s time we have a baby.”
I know. India’s population already stands at 1.3 billion. What difference is one more going to make? It will be my first child.
** The End **

7/10
3.75/10

I was hesitant to send it at first. I felt that publishing it through KDP was much simpler and easier than having my internet friends read and review it.
I'm glad that I participated.
Would I be asking too much if I request y'all to visit the book page and rate the book?
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/4...
Pretty please. :-)
@Ahmad has reviewed it already, thanks Ahmad :-)

@Shabana- The score is supposed to be relative, but because I haven't read any other short stories that were part of the competition, I don't qualify to rate it. But I have to say, the descriptions are vivid and yet it wasn't dull. I was taken aback by the manner you have paraphrased a typical bus journey in India, capturing the important details. I even liked how you subtly reached the ending note. It had the kind of ending that naturally puts up a smile on your face.
Good job!

"
Please tell me that you're reading as part of study or work; or do you like statistics? :O

Thanks @Bishwaraj
I noticed that you guys have reviewed the book... bundle of thanks... I don't know how to include hearts in the comment... i am so naive...
:-)

"
Please tell me that you're reading as part of study or work; or do..."
"Do you like statistics?" - cracked me up! XD
Well, I am studying to make a career transition.

May god be with you and you get the success you deserve and desire. Amen.
:-)

I can totally understand, cuz I am totally lacking the motivation to read and write, too...
I don't want to push anyone. But since you guys have read and reviewed here already, it would mean a lot if the same reflected on the book page...

@Abdullah
@Akash
@Ali
@Faheem
@Marium
Look at that, I sorted the names.
Review please :)"
Opened GR after so many days. Yes sure lemme see the link :)

Opened GR after so many days. Yes sure lemme see the link :)"
And at what hour? :-O
Are you a night person, too?

7/10"
Thanks :-)
The contest is over. Would you be kind and post your review and rating here, please?
It would mean a lot. Thanks!
Cute profile pic <3

Thank you, Aakash the busy moderator :)
Der lagi aane mein tum ko der se phir bhi aaye toh
aas ne dil ka sath no chhora waise hum ghabraye toh
Where is Faheem, the even busy mod? ;)
Hamesha Dair Kar Deta Hoon Main
Har Kaam Karnay May
Zaroori Baat Kehne Ho
Faheem is busy in job these days.
Har Kaam Karnay May
Zaroori Baat Kehne Ho
Faheem is busy in job these days.
This topic has been frozen by the moderator. No new comments can be posted.
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Have you ever missed work because you overslept? I just might.
I’m Bindiya Nair. I work as a senior executive at a call center. Our services are hired by one of the leading telecommunication companies and my team handles the customers for Maharashtra & Goa region. My husband Sunil is a businessman. Sunil and I have been married for three years now. Yet it still feels like yesterday.
Sunil, my husband has gone on a business trip. He explained to me the details of where he is going and what he is going to do. I generally tune out on all such occasions. His business talks hardly interest me. He is the disciplinarian of the house. With him away from home, all my routine has gone for a toss. I stay up watching television till late at night, or reading a book or just watching photos of old friends on Facebook. That precisely has landed me in this situation.
I commute to work by office bus. The first pickup reaches my stop at 8:15 a.m. and the second one at 9:45 a.m. I generally take the first one, because then I can take the first drop in the evening and be home early.
I have three different alarms set to wake me up in the morning. I keep hitting snooze as my alarms went off one by one. I finally wake up at 8:45 a.m. Ugh. I close my eyes, wanting to stay in. A few moments later I jump out of the bed. I remember that I have a presentation to make – not just for the Maharashtra & Goa team, but for all Pune teams. Taking the day off is not an option. I would need to take the second pickup to work.
I am getting ready for work when my phone rings. It is the commute coordinator from my office. Wondering about what he may have to say, I receive the call.
“Hello, Ramesh?”
“Madam, the second pickup will not come today. There is a big traffic jam near Mundhwa. The first pickup has reached only a few minutes ago.”
“Oh... Alright, thanks.”
I said politely and hung up. There is not much scope for arguing.
I contemplate taking a cab to work but that would cost too much. I just hate to spend two hundred bucks just to reach the office, especially since I don’t feel like going to the office today. Nevertheless, I try booking a cab using Ola app. The booking gets confirmed, and moments later I get a cancellation alert. Next, I try the Uber app. The same thing happens again.
“Isn’t that great? I have a presentation today.”
I say to myself. I don’t like taking public transport. Forget buses, I don’t like taking a cab or auto-rickshaw either. In fact, I hate the office bus, too. I like going with Sunil, whenever I get a chance. Sunil’s office is a little ahead of my office on Magarpatta road. Occasionally, if our schedules match or if I miss both office pickups, Sunil drives me to work. I love such times, primarily because Sunil drives and I get to relax in the passenger seat. Not today. Sunil is out of town in our car. Had he travelled by some other means, I would have had the car to myself and I could’ve driven to work. A part of me still wants to call in sick. If it’s not for the presentation, I would have listened to my other self.
I have to go and my conveyance options are limited. I step out and walk to the bus stop. There are no auto rickshaws on the auto-stand. This is going to be a tough day, it seems. I hardly see any cabs either. The only vehicle plowing in the roads were PMPML1 buses and private cars. Hitchhiking is a tempting but almost impossible option. The last resort is taking the bus, the corporation bus.
A PMPML standard bus has a capacity of around fifty-five seats. Although it claims to have of a capacity of fifteen standing passengers, the pivoted grab handles for straphangers are much more in number. The engineers clearly know the situation. Some handles are strong and sturdy. Others are not.
The vehicles in India are right-hand drive, and doors are on left. The front door is to alight, and the rear door is for boarding. It is a rule that nobody follows. In the middle of the bus, there is some open space left for the BRT door. This also serves as a dedicated space for standing passengers. The next set of seats start behind a security of iron bars. Most of the seats are reserved for either women or elder people. That does not mean that people follow the rules.
These days, I hardly ever take the bus. Before getting married, I went through a rather severe misery spell. I used to travel to work on the bus to save money of commute. I know. What was I thinking? My stint of commuting by corporation bus, however, wasn’t all in vain. It taught me two extremely valuable lessons. Firstly, and obviously, I realized that time is more precious than money and saving some money only to spend triple the time for commuting to work was…well, stupid. Secondly, it prepared me for today. I am aware of what buses to take, which stop to alight on, how long it will take, etcetera.
My only options are route 149 and 149A. The buses for these routes are almost always fully packed. The public transport reminds every day that India is the most populous country. Every day as I waited for office cab ten feet away from the corporation bus stop, I used to observe how boys will just stand on one foot on the board and rest of the body hanging, grabbing one small portion of the iron bar beat boarding door. I wondered how they survived through the journey. As the others still waited, I would triumphantly board the office bus, as though telling them that they are mere mortals and I’m so much better than them.
Well, so much for my superiority. Today I am one of them. I see the bus approaching our stop. It is more crowded than ever. It is difficult to board, almost making me want to take the day off. I board. Contrary to what I assumed, boarding is simple. All I had to do was place a foot on board. The commuters behind me pushed me and I gradually make my way to the middle of the bus as the bus grudgingly makes its way ahead.
I find a place near women’s seats. I notice the women sitting in the first seat behind the iron bars. There is a teenage girl holding a baby girl, about eight months old. A plump woman is sitting next to her. She is wearing a PNG (Pune Gadgil Jewellers) uniform. Behind them are two women wearing saris in typical Maharashtrian style.
I am almost squeezed between a slim tall girl on the left and a fat woman on my right. I turned away from the girl after giving her a disgusting disapproving look. How dare she be so slim? I focused my attention on the baby girl who was constantly moving her arms to show her excitement.
The bus stops at the next stop and more commuters board the bus. People are already squeezed in and try to inch forward to make room for the new lot. Some boys move ahead, taking every opportunity to rub against the female commuters' backs as they walk. Grabbing the overhead handle for support, I dive towards the inside of the seat. By doing that, I almost touch the face of the uniform-clad woman sitting in it. But I also successfully save myself from getting rubbed by the passing male commuters.
Moments later, I feel something soft pressing against my right arm. The fat woman was almost leaning onto me, her upper body pressed against me. It literally sends a shiver through my body. I am saving myself from men when women are no different.
I am not accusing her or anything but if we can keep our body parts to ourselves why don't we do that? I understand it is difficult to achieve that in the confines of a bus which carries thrice its capacity, thanks to the ever-increasing population. But still? What is the need for a human touch, with absolute strangers, no less?
I am starting to value the office bus now. I have the privilege to use office shuttle. I have the luxury to take a rickshaw or cab. But those who couldn't afford, are bound to travel by corporation bus. Perhaps, over a period of time, they become immune to their bodies touching with others.
The next few stops are okay as nobody boards the bus. I focus on the women passenger seated before me - the two women seated in second from the iron bars. One of them must have been in her forties and the second one her thirties. The teenage girl holding the infant baby girl was occasionally turning to talk to them, indicating that they are traveling together.
I naturally notice the baby. Sunil and I haven’t thought about starting a family and people keep nagging us. That is one thing that Indians are great at; that is, to interfere and meddle in something that is absolutely none of their business. We have our priorities straight, though. Sunil wants to establish his business first. I want to focus on the career. I want to become a manager before I take the next big step on the personal front. We both want to enjoy the life before getting into more complex things like having a family.
As I have nothing better to do, I watch the kid play by herself and I overhear their conversation. I had been a resident of the city for more than ten years. Although I am not originally from Maharashtra, I understood a great deal of the regional language. They are speaking Marathi, though the dialect is a tad different, as was there accent. I gather that they are bad-mouthing some of their relatives. Don’t we all love that? I try to keep the smile to myself.
Occasionally adjusting myself from the passengers squeezing their way through the exit door, I continued to enjoy their chat. From their conversation, I gather that the women are related. As the teenager adjusted her scarf, I notice the mangalsutra2 around her neck. My heart stopped for one whole second. She is married. Moments later, the baby starts to cry and the teenage girl wraps herself under the scarf and prepares to feed the baby. She's a mother. She looks like still in her school. I feel like somebody has just punched me in the stomach. I struggle to breathe.
This is such a 180 turn. There are girls who get married and start a family so young and then there is a woman like me who procrastinate to start even after hitting thirty. More power to us women. But I strongly feel there is a need for some sort of balance. All girls deserve a say in matters regarding their marriage. At least they should be allowed to live a free life until they cross the legal age for marriage.