The Bus Affairs

Mr. Hari takes a bus to his office everyday. The bus has air conditioning. Only that’s why he takes that bus, even though it takes sometimes twice his time. The bus is not even a bit faulty. But sometimes, as if to make fun of the commuters, the driver sadistically takes it very slowly across the big empty bridge that everyone else races on. It makes everyone go crazy.  

There is a boy in the bus. There is a girl in the bus. There is another girl too. There is the driver. There is the conductor. And then there are they. There is the bus-stop. And then there is her bus-stop, and then there is his bus-top. 

There is traffic.

Mr. Hari has kind of reserved a seat for himself. If anyone takes that, he is frowned upon by everyone else around. Even the conductor asks people not to sit there. The driver keeps the bus longer when Mr. Hari gets down from the bus.

Mr. Hari takes even longer.

The boy in the bus is in love with the girl in the bus. He is also in love with another girl in the bus. He is generally of a very loving nature. The driver does not like so much loving. But the conductor does not like the driver.

The girl in the bus used to sit next to Mr. Hari, until the morning Mr. Hari’s beloved wife came running to hand to him his forgotten wallet. No one knows what she saw. But the drama that followed became a legend and a subsequent life of many a gatherings. The girl no longer spoke to Mr. Hari, and Mr. Hari no longer spoke to anyone else. And that’s when the girl in the bus started to sit with the boy in the bus.

One day Mr. Hari chose to break the awkwardness and invited a few fellow corporate commuters to his daughter’s birthday. They all came and sat for a while. They all brought crayons for gifts. They sat like a bunch of stoned chimps waiting for the candles to be removed from the chocolate cake. They laughed a lot, not talking much, just looking at a bunch of excited kids play with the dog from third floor. Mr. Hari smoked his cigar while giving wife a hand in the kitchen. His wife used to be his dentist. She still is.

The girl in the bus seems to be deeply in love with the boy in the bus. Sometimes she gets down at his bus-stop, sometimes he gets down at her bus-stop. Another girl in the bus seems to have started loving another girl in the bus. The driver does not like so much loving. But the conductor does not like the driver.

Mr. Hari now sits in the front with the conductor.

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A Reluctant Salesman

Mr. Hari was a reluctant greying salesman who used to smoke fat cigars in the cafeteria of his office. He called himself Old Harry, as said on his business card.

He took the stairs when it was raining. The lift didn’t work then. There was a dog on the third floor that used to sit outside the flat with a glass door. The dog barked at him often. The owners of the house looked outside on some days to see if everything was alright. The owners felt relieved as they too, like their dog, did not like salesmen.

Mr. Hari used to sell nothing. He knew nothing, very well. He would fill it with soaps or powders or juices or coffee or cars. And he would smile and make gestures and lock eyes and wink. And every Thursday evening he would walk to the big famous temple outside of which stood police with guns. Mr. Hari did not ask for anything but a long vacation. He did not seem to be getting it.

On one stormy day the dog on the third floor got so furious that Mr. Hari tripped himself over the stairs and broke his leg. He messaged everyone he knew that he would not be available for the next few weeks. He ended it with a smiley. People loved it.

Lying over his bed with his one leg hanging and wrapped in the white plaster, he had the time of his life watching TV with his family. When his leg turned fine, he just did not want to go back.

His wife had a big fight with him. She was a furious. They locked their kids inside as she threw utensils and sofa pillows over him. He had to give up and go back to the office the next morning.

He took the stairs more often now. The dog on the third floor did not bark at him anymore. The owners of the house looked outside on some days to wave and ask how everything was, especially his leg. 

He stopped going to the temple now, and got new business cards which called him Hari.

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