Bus Diaries

The usual
bus journey-
a seat on the left,
a book on the lap
and earphones plugged in.

Absorbing the sun
and hoping
for a good day at work,
when suddenly,
one of THOSE-
talkative aunties.

Thank God
for my convincing smiles.
She is talking,
no murmuring-
Is she on the phone?
No, she is talking-
to me.

Music volume lowered,
that's all I am
willing to spare her.
(What now?
Beta, what do you do,
How cold it is getting,
What is the time,
Where are we,
How badly he drives?)

No.
Husband. Son. Daughter.
What is THIS about?

Grim expression,
rambling tone,
no variation,
measured pauses
and a shaking of the head
at intervals.

__________rupees
That's all he earns.
But would never let me work. No.
All I wanted was to earn a bit
But what work can I do?

(Daughter studies, somewhere far
and I missed the bit about the son).

What am I worth?
I have studied a bit,
can travel on my own,
but what good am I?
Where is the work for me?
Only a couple of thousand rupees,
anything will be welcome.
We could live like before;
Even just perhaps for the fun of it,
to do SOMETHING.

and on and on
along those lines.

Not glancing at me once
but talking as it were
to my seat
as  if she expected
no unhelpful response
from a glib stranger.

I started feeling warmer,
warmer than before
when the sun was on me.
I hardly knew when the music had stopped
and a different buzz had
penetrated my pretty world.

What should I say?
SHOULD I speak at all?
To console her?
Advise her?
Assure her of her worth?
But what COULD I do?

Swiftly getting up,
she gets down at the next stop,
perhaps preparing herself
for another day of reconciliation
and many more such
monologues,
negotiating her sanity.

And I realised,
just as I was
an unwilling listener,
embarrassed, nonplussed,
she too was
unwilling to have an audience.
I was just an excuse-
for her to talk
to herself, aloud.

Not educated,
not appreciated,
but questioning her life,
willing to take chances
and pining for opportunities
she thinks she will never get.

But if I could just tell her
What was the use
of degrees and jobs,
when it didn't rid one
of the poverty and squalor
of one's own mind?