The Bus, The Pattern

The blue shade brings a sign of relief.  It isn’t the sky’s blue that brings relief at that instant , it’s the color of the buses here. I almost hurry towards it with the air gliding through my face. I normally take around 4 minutes plus to reach the stop from my house. Walking past the “The Lane” gives me the much needed happiness and smiling at the old woman if at all she’s there gives me the the happiness much needed. Even when am late and running i always take ” The Lane” ( that’s the only shortcut) and i always observe the people there with the corner of my eye. I never understood why i have this feeling but i feel that i am not welcomed there. Doesn’t  matter i still love it though.

As i climb on the bus and normally take the seat on my left or stand , i know i am ready to face the new day. It took me a while to figure it out. The Pattern. Initially when i started frequenting this bus i didn’t even guess there would be such a thing as a pattern. I din’t want to take this particular bus because of its number,  13( i somehow don’t like the number). Though all the buses are equally good this particular one suited my timings the best.  Proud to tell that buses in Bangalore are some of the best in the country. Well coming to the pattern 😛 It all started after a few days of taking the bus continuously , you see when you frequent a bus at a particular timing, a lot of  other people do too and they call themselves “The regulars”. I so happened to sit in a particular seat and just after i sat a person entered the bus, though there was an empty seat he refused to sit there. He stood right in front of me and started glaring every once in a while. I didn’t understand why at the time. When it happened again 2 days later, it got me thinking. Am i sitting under a treasure? Or is the seat his? after all buses are for the public. I looked at the people around me and started going back a few days and remembering  who would have sat where. It wasn’t difficult to remember. They almost sat in the same seat they where sitting. Oh! so that’s y. Like the great Indian tiger( other tigers too, but  i am an Indian!)  that marks it territory by pissing along the boundary , did these people mark their seats? By spitting? Be it the round faced gentlemen in front of me or the dark eyed uncle behind. Be it the boy who wanted to be called a man on the right side of me or the student with a black spectacles who was hooked to his music on the left. Be it anyone there . They almost sat in their seats daily. They almost followed the pattern without knowing it. It was a relief after i figured the pattern.

As my destination materializes in front  of me i get ready to step down. And there at that moment i acknowledge every time that i have become a part of the pattern too. And it pretty much involves standing.

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