One day writer babus were on their way to a conference. The driver, a skinny fella, drove with utmost skill. He manoevoured the bus through the narrow by lanes as well as wide roads with utmost care.
The babus in the rear were a noisy lot. Younger and overtly zealous to reach their destination in double quick time. While those who were in the front seemed calm and composed.
A woman sat on the front seat , head bent , writing something on her iPad. There was a guy sitting there who surrendered his seat to her and bored with the long journey had jumped out of the moving bus and was absconding since then.
The babus behind strained with all their might
to catch a glimpse of the woman. In the mad scramble , they collided with one another.
Total mayhem followed. One guy caught the other by the collar and gave him good. Not to be outdone, the recipient, a Newton fanatic, landed an outlandish blow onto the other's stubbled cheeks.
Girls began screaming. Situation turned tense. A ripple effect flowed. Girls, normally so cool lost it. They hurled abuses on the guys for disturbing their seista. A harassed fella lunged at the long ponytail in front of him only to realize it was a he.
Now folk in the bus turned their gaze away from the action thriller on the TV set and got engrossed in a better one.
The driver, listening to songs on his ipod heard nothing. The bus moved at top speed.
Only there was total chaos inside.
Suddenly someone cried, 'I wanna go to the loo.' Soon she got a fan following.
They trooped to the front, banging the driver's cabin. He got up with a start, had almost dozed off. 'What's wrong with these guys,' he wondered.
The bus stopped. They emptied the bus as well as the contents of their bladder. Had chai nashta and got back in somewhat refreshed.
The bus continued its perilous drive at reckless speed. Enough to give fiction writers that blood curdling thrill.
The lady in the front continued to write, mystifying many.
The bus clambered up a narrow path. Beauteous scenes surrounded them. Awakening the romantic writer from deep slumber.
Suddenly the scene changed. The bus burst onto the highway. Vehicles small and big whizzed by. Taking the reality writer by surprise. Actually the woman in the front.
The bus now almost like a runaway bus raced at breakneck speed. All babus resigned themselves to their fate. Must be their karma,
they wondered, silently cursing themselves for causing the uproar. Now the driver seemed to be mad at them.
Crash. A loud explosion.
Again.
The bus careened wildly over the divider and toppled over.
People piled on top of one another. Girls screamed. A heavyweight champion fell on a slim boy. He thought he was dying.
Deathly silence.
The ambulance arrived. They were rescued one by one. Surprisingly none was seriously hurt. Astounding.
The babus pinched themselves. They had almost thought they were in paradise.
A few of them vowed to themselves never to undertake this journey again.
Someone caught a glimpse of her. The mystic.
She wasn't looking down, nor was she wearing a frown.
She sort of enjoyed the journey.
While others prepared to quit, she had just begun.
