That night the skies rented and deluged the land. I lay awake to the rains pounding, drumming to heartbeats, quickened, elated, pumped up with adrenaline, to the percussion of thunder claps, flashes of lightening. In the blind black of my room sounded the running, pacy changing beats of teen-taal in this megh-night.
Next day, I started late for the farm. The underpass on my route was unpassable, thigh deep in water. Backtracking to catch a bus, I found that the morning rush hour had already started. The buses rushed by periliously tilted towards road with people hanging out in swarms. One such bus was stopped at the traffic signal, going in my direction. Running between wavy lines of halted cars, vehicles, I reached the bus and yelled at the people to 'make space' - a woman standing on the last step turned smiling and said "there is no more room inside" - I hesitated, undecided, weighed by a big clumsy bag that I carried in one hand, when the traffic signal turned green. The bus inched forward, and suddenly, without thought, I was squeezed between people, hanging out the last step, on this tilted bus, hanging on to my bag with one hand, and my hold on life with another....the bus sped on shiny, wet tar within reaching inches of other cars, scooters.
The wind blew against my face pushing my hair back - I was the last person on the bus - excited, elated, happy to be living life dangerously.
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