Behore Beckons

She was occupying the front seat of the bus. This was considered to be the best seat in the bus and usually reserved for special persons. Purnima realised that she qualified for the special status by virtue of the combination of her gender and education. In similar situation, while Andy, because of his age and slightly more aristocratic looks, might have been offered the seat, Subbu would have been completely ignored. Among the males, social status mattered more than education. Deciding the hierarchy among persons with similar social status was quite a complicated matter; who should get the precedence, the village pradhan or the brother-in-law of the bus owner? She had been travelling in the bus for nearly an hour, exchanging small talks with the driver every now and then. Suddenly she became aware that for sometime now they have been travelling on roads which had not a single pothole. As she looked out of the windshield she found a long stretch of smooth, beautifully carpeted road lying ahead. ‘The road here is very good’, she mildly observed. The driver shot a quick glance towards her and smiled, ‘Ji, maidum’, he replied and then added after a while, ‘this is a very special area, maidum.’ ‘What do you mean?’ Arre bhai, the road passes through the constituencies of a future peeum, the seeum and the adhayaksha of the assumbly. You follow, maidum?’ ‘Really! Then the area must be very rich.’ ‘Ji, maidum. Earlier, one major dacoity a month was common.’ ‘Not now?’ The driver pretended to concentrate on the traffic and did not reply immediately. Intrigued by his reaction Purnima felt curious and kept looking at him expecting an answer. Realising that it was useless to avoid he finally gave a broad smile and replied, ‘Now, maidum, we are not living in the times of Sholay. The Gabbar Singhs’ of today act only when they are told to strike.’ He fell silent again. Purnima too kept quiet. Though she felt that the driver wanted to say something more she thought it better to wait and not push him. They drove in silence, the bus was entering into a town the passengers were turning fidgety in their seats indicating that the bus station was near at hand. The driver looked up and spoke almost sotto voice, ‘Now only if any one of the three get upset the peace is broken.’ Along with other passengers, Purnima too got down from the bus. A glassful of tea would be welcome. She still retained her moffusil taste for tea, that is, tea leaves boiled in milk, sugar, ginger and cardamom. A friend of her had once remarked, ‘Purnima likes to drink chai, not tea.’ As she ambled towards the tea stall her eyes fell on a group of people nearby. They seemed to be agitated about something. Drawn by the possibility of some excitement more people were joining the group, which was turning into quite a crowd with the passengers of her bus also joining in. ‘Arre he is a very smart fellow, he manages to collect a crowd every day. Here, have some tea.’ The driver was standing next to her holding a glass of tea for her. She felt a little awkward accepting the tea but said nothing knowing fully well that she would feel even more awkward protesting, so she decided to buy some pakoras to go with the tea. ‘Is it?’ ‘Haan, just wait, you will soon see how he makes them buy his medicated churan. He can cast a spell with his words. I keep telling him, he is wasting his talent. He should join paultics, he is sure to become an emell-lay.’ ‘You think so’ ‘Haan, haan, why not. You see, it is like this, paultics is bijness. Buy-sell, buy-sell. You sell money buy votes, only some. For winning you sell many more things. Like you tell, vote me I will get you houses. So the voter dreams of a house and votes. You must know how to create that dream with your words. This fellow says buy my churun, all your problems with digestion will be gone. People listen, what he says makes them believe that none other than Dhanvantri is offering them the maha aushadh. They get carried away and then buy. And tell me, in this country who does not have some trouble or the other with digestion.’ He paused for a moment and then added slowly, ‘and maidum, in this country who does not need a house.’ ‘My god! How beautifully he has put it.’, Purnima thought to herself, 'these little surprises of life that’s what makes living so interesting.’ ‘He is a cunning fellow. He is.’ ‘Really?’ ‘Ji, maidum. But tell me maidum why does he sell at bus station and not at the railway station?’ Purnima was taken aback by the question, ‘Well . . . er . . . may be . . .um . . ., oh, I don’t know’ she surrendered with a nervous laugh. ‘I’ll tell you. One day this fellow comes and tells me, bade bhai, why don’t you halt the bus for half an hour. I say five minutes halt. Tell me maidum how can one halt a bus for five minutes after driving for two hours, aree bhai passengers will pee, drink water, take tea is it not? Our afsars! What do I say they are so dense. Anyway, I actually halt for fifteen minutes but tell five minutes. I say how long I halt what is that to you. If you halt longer I do more bijness, he says. I say more bijness? Why don’t you go to the railway sation for more bijeness? Then he tells at the railway station, people are in a hurry, either to board the train or get back to their home. No one waits. Here no one hurries, they like to stretch their legs, he tells. So I joke, why not one hour, more bijness. He is serious, he says no not one hour, when customers have more time they start to think and then they don’t buy. See, I told you he is a cunning fellow. Now he gives me twenty rupees and I halt for half an hour.’

***

Subhankar was now settled in his seat. He would have liked to take the window seat but when he arrived in the compartment he found that that seat had already been. Instead of three persons five persons were sitting on the seat. Sandwiched between two fellow passengers, one of them a fat middle aged lady smelling of garlic, sweat, body odour and hair oil, Subhankar was feeling squeezed in and uncomfortable. He decided to shift to air-conditioned coaches, the coach attendant demanded five hundred rupees to allot him a berth, after some haggling the matter was settled at one hundred rupees.