The bus hit a dusty road which passed through the countryside. As I looked around I saw the countryside thick and green with coconut trees and occasional banyan trees. Sometimes the road went through small paddy fields. When the bus took a slight curve I noticed that as the bus is moving, the red dust from the road is rising up to give the air around the colour of an evening, though it was still early morning.
Now and then the bus came across small shops, where they provided toiletries to farmers who seems to be going to nearby streams to take their morning bath. Attached to some of the shops were small hotels where they provided breakfast and tea. I could see the steaming dishes kept in glass shelves. Mostly the bus stopped at such hotels. At almost all the stops people got down and as much got into the bus. It seemed that it is only me who want to get down at the last stop of the bus.
After taking a left turn from the dusty road and covering about a few hundred meters, the bus stopped for a man who seemed to have been waiting for the bus. The place from where he was waiting didn’t seem to be a regular bus stop. When the bus stopped for him I heard the sound of flowing water; maybe there is some narrow water stream running behind the trees. As I was concentrating on the vague sound of the water, the man got into the bus and the bus started moving. I came back from my thoughts about the water stream to the sensation of someone pressing against me. That man had sat beside me.
He was taller than I had expected, and heavier too. I had to constrict myself for letting him sit comfortably. I don’t know whether he felt comfortable even after that or not. He did not seem to be young though his plentiful hair did not have any white strands. He had grown his hair, almost touching his muscular shoulders. Men growing hair do not seem to be common place in that region. Maybe this was catching people’s attention, for I saw a few old men and women from the front seats turning their heads to sneak a look at him. His full beard was wet, which made me think that he had taken a bath just now, maybe from that stream from where he got into the bus. Besides he smelled fresh. His house might be somewhere nearby that place, though it did not seem to be a place where someone will build a house.
He was of medium complexion and his eyes were as black as his hair. From his wet beard a few golden hair strands stood out conspicuously. His shirt wasn’t as white and new as it seemed to be some time back. It seemed to have lost its shining whiteness owing to overuse. But it was clean and washed, though not pressed. Water dropping from his beard left long strokes on it.
As he sat there as if meditating on something very lofty, I plunged into my absurd thoughts about what this man would all about. What job would he be doing, is there any chance for him to be a carpenter? Though my thoughts dwelled only on him I stopped noticing the physical aspects of this man and started thinking about how strange an impression he cuts though there is nothing at all extraordinary about him apart from his long hair.
I don’t know how much time had passed by after the man got into the bus when I felt a warm pressure on the palm of my right hand which I had rested on my thigh. Partly from being waken up from my thoughts and partly from being embarrassed in being touched, I turned to the man beside me with a curious and alarmed face. He had turned a little bit towards my side and had kept his right palm over my hand as if to catch my attention. It was obvious that he had something to tell me.
Regaining my courage I waited eagerly for what he has to tell me. I was expecting him to ask me for some money or to pay his ticket which used to happen, though very rare. But something in my mind told me that he will not do anything of that sort. He looked straight into my eyes for a few seconds before he spoke with an even voice, as if reassuring me about something, or else consoling me.
“These places belong to me. I rule here.”
Then he stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. I did not expect such a statement at all from him. In my confused state of mind, I feared that I will burst into laughter. I told myself that I should look serious at least for the sake of not being impolite. Could this be someone straight out of a mental asylum? But he doesn’t look like insane. If by any chance he is so then I have to be careful. I felt an immediate urge to get up and move to some other seat. The humour that was developing in my mind was already transformed into a cautious fear.
As he reached towards the zenith of his inhalation his face became pleasant. He was almost smiling when he continued.
“I bring in the spring.”
And then again he stopped to plunge into a deep sigh. Losing my fear in an instant I was getting amused than anything else now. He pressed my hand harder. And then I saw a change in his expression. His face became pale, as if suffering from some intense pain. There was a kind of helplessness painted in his face. Taking his hands off from mine he continued in an almost whimpering voice.
“And I bring in the plague too.”
Before I could think or say anything he got up in a flash. As soon as he got up, the bus came to a stop suddenly. Without looking back he proceeded to the front door and got down. The bus started moving again immediately. In my shock I was not able to look back to see him once again, or to look where he was headed to. The only thing which I understood was that the stop where he got down did not look like a regular bus stop, just as the stop from where he got in. At last when I looked to the left, outside the window, what I saw was an ancient looking pond, which seemed to be completely out of place and time.
