Moral Short Story – What a Grand Liberation!
Photo credit: bendzso from morguefile.com
Every time I travel in a bus, I get to experience a mini world inside it. Unique faces, contrasting behaviors – almost every traveler trails a tale, a unique experience of life which is sometimes bitter and sometimes better.
My 3—4–hour daily bus ride introduces me to several stories…stories that may have a bus ride in their backdrop but it’s the life where the heart and the core of the stories lie.
The story I am going to present exposes the dark side of the life…the side dominated by miseries, problems, betrayal.
The protagonist in the story is a fighter who didn’t succumb to his miseries and continued to do he was committed to.
Not a different day it was when I was waiting for my bus en route to my office. I didn’t have to wait for long as within next five minutes, a DTC bus halted at the bus stand, crowded with the people of different makes and moods who would be waiting for their vehicle of choice to take them to their desired destinations.
I hurried towards the entrance of the bus with some other anxious folks who ran towards the bus as the soldiers swinging their swords attack the opposition in our mythological serials. Finally, being able to win the war, I mean board the bus, I found myself in the middle of the bus where I was surrounded and suppressed by some strangers who, like me, were struggling to secure some space to land their feet firm on floor.
Oh…I forgot!
During my fit of finding a fit in the bus, I’d noticed a head hanging out of the window of the bus. With signs of age oozing out of his time-warped wrinkled face, he was shouting at the people standing at the bus stand.
“Sit down…Sit down…Can’t you hear…you morons”, he sounded like a madman in first meeting.
Automatic doors closed with a loud sound. Wheels rolled and the bus was set to motion as the driver relieved the breaks.
“Driver sahib, stop the bus at bus stand only. There is a fine of Rs. 500. You know no?” the madman spoke again as a lady requested the driver to stop the bus at the traffic signal, burning red.
His latest words of wisdom made me take a notice of him. He was around 5 feet wearing an old dirty worn-out uniform of a home guard.
Let me help you if you don’t know about a home guard. A home guard is a volunteer from civil society such as professionals, college students and industrial workers etc who work in their spare time for the well being of the community though there are full time home guards also who take home a daily remuneration of around Rs. 328.
Coming back on our madman, he donned a round khaki cap that sported ‘Triservices Crest’ and was wearing a worn-out ID card that had his passport size photo, probably of younger age as evident from the lack of wrinkles. Stapled at his chest pocket of the shirt was an ID card that reflected a name, Budhiya Bis…(the remaining part of his surname had vanished probably because of the action of time.)
“There are traffic jams in Delhi at every 100 steps” he broke the trail of my thoughts.
“Everybody blames government but what can govt. do. Anybody from anywhere heads towards Delhi and then spoils it. But this will be sorted out soon. After the ‘Aadhar Card’ campaign will be over, everybody without an ‘Adhar Card’ will be dispatched to his respective states” his preaching continued.
“See, how bad this traffic jam is and still nobody is here to clear it. Where the hell are the traffic personnel? Driver sahib jara darwaja khol denge. I try to clear it. It’s my responsibility. I’ve pledged to work for the community.”
Abe pagle buddhe baith ja. Kahan marne ja rha hai! (Sit down old madman. Where the hell are you going?) Somebody from the crowd mocked and rest followed with a laughter which he seemed to ignore.
He was soon in the middle of the mess created by cars, buses and bikes that in an attempt to slip through had choked every possible way to get the traffic going.
Was it because of his uniform or the ‘Triservices Crest’ badge on his cap or the prowess he was handing the vehicles with, I don’t know? But traffic that was transfixed a couple of minutes before had started to shift.
I saw him standing in the middle of crossroad under the post built for the traffic police personnel. His hands were moving like skilled white-uniformed personnel. He signaled the traffic from the front to hold on and instructed the vehicles on his left to pass.
The people who were involved in a mockery were now witnessing him with respect. He’d already won several hearts with his commitment towards the duty he’d left several years ago.
The traffic was soon under control. Two traffic policemen had also reached the spot, probably they’d got the information of the mess at traffic signal, albeit, our madman-turned-master had handled things with his deftness by then.
After finishing his job and handling it to whomsoever it should be concerned, he jumped off the post sporting a smile of pride and headed towards the bus he belonged to. His eyes were bright with the sense of accomplishment that he’d waited for throughout his life. His feet were brisk and bumpy, probably due to the excitement.
He crossed the road, climbed the road divider and almost floating in air, ran towards the bus which is about to leave its mark as there were just 10 seconds left for the red light to turn green.
He was approaching the bus. He could the see the driver sporting a smile which is different from the last one. He smiled back. Eyes beamed with pride. He was anxious to board bus where people would appreciate him for his adeptness…praise him for his prowess. His heart was flying with a sense of liberation.
OH SH*T… This couldn’t happen.
While he was on his joyride, he ignored an elevated stone on the divider. His off-balance legs landed him on the road on the other side…the one with traffic running on it where a speeding bus ran over him.
While his senses were eager to resign and his soul was packing up for another journey, he could see the people thanking him for his efforts. He could see the admiration in the eyes of people. People were applauding for him. He was never as happy as he was today.
His body was lying motionless in his own pool of blood. He was no more. But what still stayed was the SMILE on his face…the smile of accomplishment. By the time death occurred to him, he’d lived his life to the fullest.
Finally, he got the liberation…liberation from life…but what a grand liberation!
__END__
