It was 12:45 PM. I still had 15 minutes to kill before I would start walking to watch Cinderella at Century Cinemas. I watered the plants on all the three sides of the house with the front including the joint project of Nikhil's and mine, the orange tree and the lemon tree. I also watered the second side which got always left out. I made it in exact 12 minutes and then washed off myself to start my 30 minute walk to the cinema.
I got my self some nachos and a coke(Nachos in India were 100 times better). The movie began. There was nothing new in the story and I guess Disney people could not violate the already known tale of Cinderella and her lost glass slipper. The seats were like the lounging types so I could put my feet very comfortably and just relax while sipping the cold drink.
The movie ended at 3:35. I checked the schedule of the Mountain View(MTV) Community Shuttle and ran towards the bus stop. This is a new bus for people to travel across MTV without any ticket to different locations. I had some difficulty finding the stop and reached there at around 3:49. The bus was was scheduled to arrive at 3:50. I then, sat down and thought that I have missed the bus. I gave myself 10 minutes to wait because I was not sure if the bus had left or not. The bus came at 3:57.
There were four persons in the bus including a female driver, a lady with a kid and an old man. Actually minus the white driver lady everybody seemed Indian to me. So you know how in India, a bus tends to stop at every point in its designated route, even when there is nobody waiting at the stop. In the U.S. it is quite the contrary. The bus driver stops only if he or she sees a passenger waiting at the stop or if the passenger inside the bus presses a button for the "stop request" or well tells the driver verbally.
After a while I could hear the Indian lady with the kid arguing with the driver to have stopped at a particular stop. The driver said that she could not remember each and everybody's stop like that.(Seriously three and half persons in the bus and you can't remember). Anyway after a heated argument the lady with the kid got off on the next stop which seemed like a good mile away from the lady's original stop.
The old man wearing a pin striped shirt then asked to get off Sylvan. As soon as he got off, the driver got off the bus and started lighting a smoke. I didn't know what to do. To be honest, I have been treated invisible many a times. I am hardly a looker and the only reason I was noticed in my class was because I used to answer lots of questions during class participation.
I thought to myself that if this was India, it would have been very scary. A driver stopping the bus while you are sitting all alone in it, is not a very comfortable idea for an Indian girl. Should I get off the bus? I packed some courage and stepped outside the bus. She was still lighting the smoke(How much time does it take to light a cigarette?)
I asked her if there is a problem. The lady turned and was seemed flushed. She apologized and said she did not see me there. She thought the bus was empty and wanted to just chill for a few minutes. I was in no hurry so I asked her to take her time. This time I sat in the front instead of the second last row of the bus.
She, herself started talking to me and told me how she had broken her toe while being angry in her dream. I asked if it hurt. She said it does but she had taped it and the swelling was less. I asked her why she did not go to a doctor. To this she replied that she had hurt her same toe six years ago and knew how the doctor would do it. She asked me what I thought of Dreams. When I told her that feeling a dream as if its real is the best kind of therapy anybody can get, she was surprised. I told her that dreams give us that power to be anyone in them. You do not have to get judged in the dream world. I also told her that from where I come from, dreams which come in the morning were supposed to get true. She liked the idea and laughed that next time she is going to dream a happy dream during the morning.
The lady driver was from Las Vegas and had moved here because she thought Vegas was no place to raise a child with most of the adults being addicted to gambling, alcohol, drugs etc. We agreed that the glitterati was too overbearing for us.
She asked me about what I was doing here. I told her about my home in Chandigarh and how I have recently gotten married.
It seemed as if she could understand the pangs of separation I feel after leaving my birthplace. We discussed how she should just go to the beach and leave everything aside for some time. I heard her longing for a vacation. It made me feel the value of this current time where I have no job responsibilities and tons of time to do whatever I feel like. It made me feel that I have something unique here and should try to make every moment of my present life count. Who knows I might just turn out to be a stone in my next life!
I went home and made some awesome rajma chawal which turned out to be one of the best meals I had ever prepared by now. I also smiled how I could easily connect with a white lady bus driver as compared to some other persons whom I seem to have nothing to talk about.
PS: Have you ever rubbed your eyes so hard that you felt that the eyeballs wills pop out?
I got my self some nachos and a coke(Nachos in India were 100 times better). The movie began. There was nothing new in the story and I guess Disney people could not violate the already known tale of Cinderella and her lost glass slipper. The seats were like the lounging types so I could put my feet very comfortably and just relax while sipping the cold drink.
The movie ended at 3:35. I checked the schedule of the Mountain View(MTV) Community Shuttle and ran towards the bus stop. This is a new bus for people to travel across MTV without any ticket to different locations. I had some difficulty finding the stop and reached there at around 3:49. The bus was was scheduled to arrive at 3:50. I then, sat down and thought that I have missed the bus. I gave myself 10 minutes to wait because I was not sure if the bus had left or not. The bus came at 3:57.
There were four persons in the bus including a female driver, a lady with a kid and an old man. Actually minus the white driver lady everybody seemed Indian to me. So you know how in India, a bus tends to stop at every point in its designated route, even when there is nobody waiting at the stop. In the U.S. it is quite the contrary. The bus driver stops only if he or she sees a passenger waiting at the stop or if the passenger inside the bus presses a button for the "stop request" or well tells the driver verbally.
After a while I could hear the Indian lady with the kid arguing with the driver to have stopped at a particular stop. The driver said that she could not remember each and everybody's stop like that.(Seriously three and half persons in the bus and you can't remember). Anyway after a heated argument the lady with the kid got off on the next stop which seemed like a good mile away from the lady's original stop.
The old man wearing a pin striped shirt then asked to get off Sylvan. As soon as he got off, the driver got off the bus and started lighting a smoke. I didn't know what to do. To be honest, I have been treated invisible many a times. I am hardly a looker and the only reason I was noticed in my class was because I used to answer lots of questions during class participation.
I thought to myself that if this was India, it would have been very scary. A driver stopping the bus while you are sitting all alone in it, is not a very comfortable idea for an Indian girl. Should I get off the bus? I packed some courage and stepped outside the bus. She was still lighting the smoke(How much time does it take to light a cigarette?)
I asked her if there is a problem. The lady turned and was seemed flushed. She apologized and said she did not see me there. She thought the bus was empty and wanted to just chill for a few minutes. I was in no hurry so I asked her to take her time. This time I sat in the front instead of the second last row of the bus.
She, herself started talking to me and told me how she had broken her toe while being angry in her dream. I asked if it hurt. She said it does but she had taped it and the swelling was less. I asked her why she did not go to a doctor. To this she replied that she had hurt her same toe six years ago and knew how the doctor would do it. She asked me what I thought of Dreams. When I told her that feeling a dream as if its real is the best kind of therapy anybody can get, she was surprised. I told her that dreams give us that power to be anyone in them. You do not have to get judged in the dream world. I also told her that from where I come from, dreams which come in the morning were supposed to get true. She liked the idea and laughed that next time she is going to dream a happy dream during the morning.
The lady driver was from Las Vegas and had moved here because she thought Vegas was no place to raise a child with most of the adults being addicted to gambling, alcohol, drugs etc. We agreed that the glitterati was too overbearing for us.
She asked me about what I was doing here. I told her about my home in Chandigarh and how I have recently gotten married.
It seemed as if she could understand the pangs of separation I feel after leaving my birthplace. We discussed how she should just go to the beach and leave everything aside for some time. I heard her longing for a vacation. It made me feel the value of this current time where I have no job responsibilities and tons of time to do whatever I feel like. It made me feel that I have something unique here and should try to make every moment of my present life count. Who knows I might just turn out to be a stone in my next life!
I went home and made some awesome rajma chawal which turned out to be one of the best meals I had ever prepared by now. I also smiled how I could easily connect with a white lady bus driver as compared to some other persons whom I seem to have nothing to talk about.
PS: Have you ever rubbed your eyes so hard that you felt that the eyeballs wills pop out?
No comments:
Post a Comment