"Hold On!" said the conductor of the bus, half asleep, his voice so low that it was almost lost in the chirping of the crickets, but, was sufficiently high enough for the driver to hear, as the bus came to a screeching halt. The dust from the muddy road rose up and mixed with the misty early morning air and even as the glaring headlights of the bus cut through it, the road ahead was barely visible.
Most of the passengers in the bus were asleep, not necessarily in their seats, with some having dozed off clinging to the overhead rod, while some had dropped their heads and let it swing away as they sat in the aisle and on the foot board. A couple squeezed their way out, trying to cut loose of the passengers in the bus, almost tip toeing, ensuring they do not disturb the people in their slumber. As soon as they got down, the man hurriedly climbed up a small ladder behind the bus and dropped down a couple of moderately heavy sacks which fell with a thud. He then, with the help of his wife, carefully brought down two heavy suitcases, one made of iron and the other of wood, both of which looked like a property that had passed down from generation to generation and had currently landed up in their realm. He got down as quickly as he had climbed and glanced around the luggage. After ensuring that they had everything they carried, he hit the cold, half-rusted metallic body of the bus twice with his bare palm; lightly at first and heavily for the second time, signalling the bus to leave.
Seconds later, the bus had disappeared and except for a mix of morning birds singing in symphony, invisibly nested in the tall and dense trees that had engulfed the area, there was not a single soul around. Tenka and his wife Amali had arrived in the village of Bharani, a tiny place nestled away at the foothills of the vast expanse of Sahyadri mountains. It was mid December and the air was too cold to tolerate. Tenka lifted both the suitcases and Amali, who had started to shiver, wrapped herself with her saree as she lifted the sacks, and slowly, they began to walk towards their new home in what was going to be their village, for not sure how long.
Most of the passengers in the bus were asleep, not necessarily in their seats, with some having dozed off clinging to the overhead rod, while some had dropped their heads and let it swing away as they sat in the aisle and on the foot board. A couple squeezed their way out, trying to cut loose of the passengers in the bus, almost tip toeing, ensuring they do not disturb the people in their slumber. As soon as they got down, the man hurriedly climbed up a small ladder behind the bus and dropped down a couple of moderately heavy sacks which fell with a thud. He then, with the help of his wife, carefully brought down two heavy suitcases, one made of iron and the other of wood, both of which looked like a property that had passed down from generation to generation and had currently landed up in their realm. He got down as quickly as he had climbed and glanced around the luggage. After ensuring that they had everything they carried, he hit the cold, half-rusted metallic body of the bus twice with his bare palm; lightly at first and heavily for the second time, signalling the bus to leave.
Seconds later, the bus had disappeared and except for a mix of morning birds singing in symphony, invisibly nested in the tall and dense trees that had engulfed the area, there was not a single soul around. Tenka and his wife Amali had arrived in the village of Bharani, a tiny place nestled away at the foothills of the vast expanse of Sahyadri mountains. It was mid December and the air was too cold to tolerate. Tenka lifted both the suitcases and Amali, who had started to shiver, wrapped herself with her saree as she lifted the sacks, and slowly, they began to walk towards their new home in what was going to be their village, for not sure how long.
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