I was in hurry to get in and grab a seat in the Blue Local-Bus from ‘Nepal Yatayat’ to Boudha with my sister. I didn’t see anything than the free seats on the 3rd row of the left side. I took out my ‘made-in-china’ fancy hand-fan and gave myself some relief from the exhausting sunny day. I pushed the window-glass fully backward and was ready to enjoy some breezy air.
My sister was trying to take a nap as she leaned against my shoulder and the song of Bob Dylan ‘blowing in the wind’ was just so right for the weary day. I was only watching the people by the road, the small stalls where I witnessed that, selling a piece of cigarette seemed more important than feeding her infant child, a middle aged woman roasting the corns in the such killing temperature was shouting at her husband in front of people and if anyone expects a reason I don’t really have it, then there I saw a woman who was running along with the speed of the bus just to sell a bottle of mineral water. The sweats dropping from her forehead and her hairs all messed up with the dust covered-look showed she is having hard time indeed. It was like overall watching where I stand at that time and the only difference was the twenty five Nepali rupees that made me take that so-called a bit comfort and shaky seat of that Blue Local Bus where I was witnessing the activities going roughly. I was just looking around. The bus was moving as the conductor was shouting to pile more and more passengers to have healthy Dal-bhat for the day. Well he surely deserves a food meal after all……as if like someone cares, (jokes a part).
Someone banged on the right near to my seat from the outside and the bus stopped. I took my head out of window to check who it was, my eyes caught by the middle aged man whose nose was covered with a mask leaving his mouth freely as he was shouting continuously to bring more passengers in and was telling the passengers inside to make space for other pending passengers. With a simple framed spectacle, a faded navy cap he looked as if he belongs to a well settled family but his dark tanned skin sparkling sweats has something else to say. He was, the conductor.
Everyone in the bus was quiet. No one complained a bit about the cramped situation. I was ok as I was sitting by the window seat and was wondering why he has to work as a conductor in a Local-Bus? Does he have a family? The money he gets from the conductor job, could it be enough for him and his family? If he has kids, how does he manage to pay for them? How many times a day he eats? And the major question that was hitting me was; why he chose to be a conductor??
Everyone has their own part of stories and problem; maybe he has his own shares of problem in life.
I hurriedly took out the mobile from my brown leather bag as the conductor was intensely shouting outside to bring more passengers. He saw me with the mobile and I acted as if I got a call, then taking the chance of his occupied mind, I quietly took a photo of him shouting at the people. I am glad he didn’t hear the sound of camera, thanks to the ‘thotorey’ local bus of Kathmandu city….
We got off at the chabahil and my sister handed him 50 rupees note and said ‘ek jana ko student id cha’ “tyau” “but to our surprise he didn’t give us off on the student id and the bus left with its speed.
|the only photo i could possibly get at that moment from my phone...., glad he didn't hear the click sound :D|