Self-Musings

Waiting at the Bus Stop

The human mind is a very complex machine, it takes a lot of time to remember a pattern or to develop a habit but when it comes to forgetting or to go in auto mode, it is faster than Usain Bolt! Similarly, humans are pretty good creatures when it comes to making a routine but more often than not we do not look back it once we’ve started a new routine.

I went to Ryan International School for ten years, and the drill each day was the same: wake up at around 6:15am, pretend that I’ve slept well, take a bath, pretend that I am fresh and good to go, have some breakfast, rush to the bus stop at 6:50am because I’m already late, reach the bus stop and relax because it is only then that I realise that the clock at my house had been five minutes ahead of the actual time, a trap that mothers often use to trick there innocent young kids, then wait for the bus because just like me, the bus driver is also not very fond of being on time and then hop into the bus when it finally arrives, meet up with friends, etc, etc.

Now that I think about it I wonder how come I was that foolish to have not deciphered the tricks of my mother! Silly me…!

So each day, at around 6:50am, my address was the place opposite to Looks Salon, in front of a school (the name of which I’d rather not tell or else you’d be able to figure my house address and flood me with fan mails which I’m certainly not ready for!). But waiting for the school bus I never really thought that I’d ever write about that place but, it was only when I stopped going there that I understood its significance in my life.

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A few months back when I changed my school, everything changed. All my physical surroundings were replaced by something else. I started going to school by metro, started waiting for a metro instead of a bus, the driver of the metro was never late the way my school bus driver was. The things which had become a part of my routine were all forgotten and they were immediately replaced by the new routine.

The bus stop was not a place where I learnt some life lessons or a place where I had some incidents which I’d remember all my life (except a few), but it was a place which was in itself enough to teach me about something called connect with physical surroundings.

The bus stop wasn’t a person whom I talked to each day on my way to school, it was just a place, it was just there, I just stood there, literally nothing more but still, that place meant a lot to me for some reason.

Honestly, I didn’t really miss that place or even thought about it until I visited it months later, once again. Just by chance I never had any work to do for which I had to take that way so I never even remembered it. But one fine evening when I had gone to the movie theatre to watch some nonsense film for some reason I all of a sudden took that route and reached my bus stop.

Everything somehow came back as if I had just woken up from a coma. My pace automatically slowed down. The world around also slowed down instantly. I recalled the place where I used to stand, the exact wall which I used to rest my back on when the bag was heavy. I could see all of it clearly in front of me, I could see myself clearly in front of me.

It is funny how we attach ourselves to certain places without even recognising that we are in anyway attached to them. Its almost as if our life consists of the web of roundabouts in the Lutyens’ Delhi area, we move around in a circle at one roundabout then find someplace else and go there only to take numerous rounds of that roundabout and this cycle of going from one place to another continues until the end of us.

ALSO READ: Meeting an Old Friend…

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