The bus stand...

It seemed to be just another bus stand. Hawkers selling their wares, a few buses parked from which people would get down to go to the little hotel inside the building, a few stray cows here and there and crows on the ground finishing off fallen or thrown eatables. Just a typical scene so one would think. But if you looked carefully, the bus there near the entrance, with a large sack on the top, if you looked carefully at the third window from the front, you would see an arm resting on the window edge. And what made this a special window is that, now and then you would see a face.

Not the typical face in a typical bus stand. It was different. Firstly, it had a touch of melancholy in it, the eyes seemed puffed and red, there was a tired acceptance perhaps on the face. But undoubtedly there was sadness associated with it.

She would generally look out of the window towards the wall which was not only the compound but also the back of some building. She would stare at that lost in some thought. And then suddenly she would tear her eyes away to some other distant scene for a second. At times the face would not be visible to me, from where I stood looking. I guess at such times, she would be busy with some thing inside. Perhaps a child I thought?

Her sadness was very evident by the way she said no to the hawkers who would try to sell her wares ranging from groundnuts to bangles. She would not nod her head emphatically nor utter any word. It would be a soft slow sway of the head which would not only say 'no' to the hawker but also discourage the hawker from trying again.

--- to be continued.....

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Tag: Literature Prose

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