The Indecent Touch.

“Hello, Ruchika here. May I know who’s speaking?  Ohh, I’m sorry. I’m waiting for the bus, will reach office in another 30 minutes.” I put down the phone. I had just been saved from being hit by a speeding taxi, which scraped past me.

Ah! There came my bus, flashing ‘K1’ in bold orange. After the 25 minute wait in the sun, I was relieved. Little did I know that my relief was soon going to turn into despair!

The bus came to a screeching halt right before my frantically waving hands. I was smiling at some grouching faces. But I dint mind, I had finally got my bus! I tried to make my way onto the first step of the bus, but I couldn’t. I waited impatiently while the driver was honking, asking me to get on board fast. Some people who were hanging from the foot-board grudgingly got down making space for me to step on.

I stepped on. But now, I had no place to move ahead. Grabbing onto my bag, I managed to climb onto the 4^th and final step. I tried to search for some place to plant my feet, because I was standing on somebody’s beautiful brown shoes. And the poor fellow wasn’t shouting or complaining. He must have been getting his shoes spoiled every day, I guessed. I quickly jumped down to take the place of someone else who inched towards the door to get down.

I tried in vain arching my neck to see if there was any place where I could stand without touching anyone. But all I could see was shirts and smell the stench of deos & sweat. Everybody was cramming around me. In that condition my mind stopped judging every touch, whether it was deliberate frottage or the desperate struggle of every other passenger to get a breathing space, literally!

I thought it safe to have a stronger hold on my bag, so I brought it close to myself & hugged it tight. I was at a loss thinking which way to angle myself so that I would fit in like a puzzle piece. But however I tried to stand, I hustled somebody or the other. Fed up, I stood like that, hanging onto the bus rod.

Precariously, I was clutching my bag with one hand, hanging onto the rod at the door with the other hand and balancing, leaning on someone else. Its at such a point that the unanticipated happened! The jam-packed bus had to take a sharp turn. My right-hand holding the rod slipped. I fell towards somebody standing on the second last step. I let out a shriek, as did the other women passengers.

But I wasn’t scared of falling out. I somehow knew that I was safely packed on all sides. Even if the misfortune happened, and I was jolted out of the bus, I would still land safely upon a heap of people, hazardously standing with hardly a place to keep their toes.

Every passing minute was a pain, trying not to come in someone’s way. But everybody had to cross me and go since I had managed to secure a place right next to the door.

The hoarse voice of the bus conductor started shouting ‘New Town namabe’. I sensed a greater relief as compared to the previous time. The bus came to another screeching halt. The braking of the bus sent shudders through my body, just as scratching nails on a blackboard gives me goose bumps!

I was pushed out of the bus, as everyone scrambled to get down. I collected myself. I was still in one piece, safe & sound. My dress wasn’t torn, nothing had been stolen from my bag & I wasn’t bleeding. Though, my feet looked as if they desperately needed pedicure.

I was finally out of what I would call a crusher. I was panting. In those 30 minutes spent in that bus, I lost all sense of touch. All those mushy romantic scenes meant nothing to me anymore.

I had always thought, how would it feel, the first time when my hand would brush against his?  Would I get butterflies in my stomach? The sudden flush of red in my face which I’d try to hide so that he doesn’t see that I’m blushing. When he comes close to speak to me & I suddenly turn to see his face close to mine.

Alas, now I wouldn’t even realise when that happens.