A sudden jolt followed by a shooting pain across his right temple woke Farhan up. He looked around groggily trying to place where he was. The elderly gentleman sitting on his right flashed him a toothless smile, and mumbled something incomprehensible. Farhan gave him a confused look, and felt his sore temple. He could already feel a bump starting to develop.
A cacophony of voices from his left drew his attention towards them. He peered through the metal bars that blocked the large square window. Outside a crowd had already gathered and raised voices could be heard. Though he hardly understood the conversation, he could make out that they were arguing about something.
“Just my luck!” he thought, as he continued to massage his bruised temple. Farhan looked around the bus again, and noticed that most people hadn’t even gotten up from their seat. “Must be a daily occurrence” he mused, as he leaned against the metal backrest of the seat in front of him. After what seemed like an eternity, the bus commenced its journey again. But the throbbing pain made it impossible for him to sleep. Through the window, he quietly watched the city speed by, indifferent to his presence.
This was his new home.
Two hours later
Farhan was yet to reach his destination. He sighed and cursed under his breath. The bus was almost empty save a few others. Though he knew the name of the stop he needed to get out at, he was conscious of the fact that due to the language barrier he could completely miss it.Thankfully, the conductor on the bus periodically yelled out the name of the stop, and he hoped that he’d be able to identify the name of the stop when he heard it.
He looked around the bus again and took in the other passengers. There were two elderly men seated a couple of seats ahead. They were snoring away with their heads leaning sideways against each other’s. A young couple sat two seats behind him, and were huddled over what looked like a book. Having been through the stage, Farhan was conscious that they weren’t really studying. He smiled slyly as he caught their attention. The girl, probably in her teens, quickly pushed the guy’s hand off hers, and looked away. The guy, visibly embarrassed, broke eye-contact with Farhan and pretended to fiddle with his mobile phone.
Farhan turned around, his face still sporting a grin. “Good old days of courtship!” he thought, as he fondly remembered his rather unsuccessful adventures with the opposite sex.
Farhan looked at the woman sitting diagonally opposite to him, a few rows ahead. A light blue dupatta (a shawl worn over traditional Indian dresses) partially draped over her head drew his attention to her. The left side of her face was still visible along with a part of her left ear, from which dangled a sparkling ruby-red earring.
Though not one to be mesmerised by shiny, bright jewellery, Farhan felt captivated. With each bump on the road, he watched the earring moved back and forth slightly, tugging at the tiny hole on her ear lobe. The rustling breeze from the open window caused strands of jet-black hair to peek out from under her make-shift head scarf. He was so fascinated by the scene that he almost missed hearing the conductor call out his stop. Fortunately, one of the elderly gents had to get down and the bus stopped at his destination.
He tried to exit the bus through the front door in a bid to see the woman’s face, but a surge of middle-aged ladies boarding the bus ensured that he exited from the rear entrance. As he watched the bus pull away, he wondered if he was more fascinated by the earring or the face that was hidden by the dupatta. A few minutes after the bus had disappeared from view, he slowly walked towards his newly rented house. As he made his way, he found himself wondering if he’d see the mysterious woman with her sparkling earring ever again.
Farhan beamed as he watched the woman laugh loudly, displaying two rows of pearly white teeth that complemented her almost flawless fair skin. He gazed intently at the contours of her face, as she continued her conversation with the little girl next to her. Her almost-musical laugher was as refreshing as drops of rain on a dry summer day. Her dupatta still partly covered her hair, but since he’d changed seats he had a better view of the side profile of her face. He watched carefully as she nonchalantly lifted her left hand and used her long, artistic fingers to tuck the unruly strands of hair behind her ear.
It had almost been a month, since he had started observing the mysterious woman, who seemed completely oblivious about his presence. Everything about her, fascinated him – from the way she smiled to little mannerisms such as the way she scrunched up her button-nose when bad odour wafted in from outside. And today, he’d heard the little girl refer to her as Farida Didi. Since he knew that Didi meant elder sister, he safely assumed that her name was Farida. He still wasn’t sure why he felt drawn to her.
He wondered if she was married or betrothed to someone. He also hadn’t been successful in seeing her face fully yet. But the two hours he spent everyday, travelling in the same bus as her was definitely the highlight of his day. Twice he’d thought of walking up and talking to her. The seat next to her was almost always free and from what he’d noticed she didn’t seem to mind company. But he just couldn’t garner the courage to do so. Whilst he blamed it on years of shyness, he knew that the real reason was because it wasn’t like him to chat up a woman. Especially, one he knew nothing about.
Farhan tapped his feet impatiently. The bus was late. However what bothered him more than the tardiness was his desire to see Farida. He hadn’t seen her on the bus for almost ten days, and was starting to get a bit agitated. Though he’d initially thought of travelling to the final stop of the bus and make an enquiry, he soon realised that it would be akin to looking for a needle in a haystack. He also had no idea where she usually boarded the bus from, since she was always on the bus when he entered.
The bus thundered towards the stop and came to a halt. Farhan rushed up the stairs and looked at the seat where Farida usually sat. It remained empty, just as it had been for the past ten days. He slumped into his seat and hoped that everything was well with her.
Few months later
The heat was starting to get to Farhan. Hailing from a village in the mountains, he’d always known that heat would be his Achilles heel. But nothing had prepared him for the 45° furnace that the city turned into during summer. He ordered a soda-lime drink from a street vendor and lit up his cigarette. He knew his mother would disapprove of his sudden nicotine addiction, but work was starting to take its toll on him and this nicotine fix gave him the strength to push on.
A sudden squeal of tyres on the road drew his attention towards the signal. It looked like the Red signal had caught one of the drivers unawares and he had managed to stop his car just in time. As Farhan sipped the soda-lime drink, he glanced at the crowd of people crossing over from the other side of the road.
The WALK indicator on the pedestrian signal had started to flash rapidly. That’s when he noticed a blind woman with her cane in the middle of the crossing. As the traffic lights changed to green and the cars around her started honking, the woman seemed to panic and stood frozen to the spot. Ignoring the honking cars and the yelling drivers, Farhan rushed across and slowly took the woman’s elbow and helped her cross the road.
As he let go of her elbow, Farhan could feel the woman shiver slightly.
“Are you okay?” he asked her.
She just smiled and said “Thank you Sir. I’ve been crossing this road unaided using my walking cane for several years now. But today…I was a bit absent-minded.”
Farhan smiled at her, well-aware that she couldn’t see it. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Though he couldn’t be sure, she looked like she was in her late twenties. “You are welcome, miss!” he replied.
She had turned sideways and was in the process of tying up her hair. And that’s when he noticed the ruby-red earring staring back at him.
Farhan stood in shock as Farida draped her dupatta over her head and slowly walked away tapping the cane in front of her, oblivious to the world around her.
[This post is written for the Project 365 program at We Post Daily aimed at posting at least once a day, based on the prompts provided. The prompt for today was “Turn to your co-workers, kids, Facebook friends, family — anyone who’s accessible — and ask them to suggest an article, an adjective, and a noun. There’s your post title! Now write..” ]
I Wrote Those - by Sid Balachandran 
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