the bus

With a smile playing at the corners of his lips, the boy runs behind the bus and in one fluid leap, hops into it. Being the last bus, the seats are in great demand. He finds a spot beside an old man. As he nears him, the man assaults his nostrils. The man reeks of alcohol. The boy is repulsed, “these alcoholics… stinky breath… so dirty…”.He quickly scans the bus again and spots another seat empty; this one beside an avuncular gentleman who seems to be amused at the boy’s repulsion. The man motions him to join him.

*************

A lot of people have pushed their way inside before the bus lurches ahead, starting from a stop en route . The mad rush bordering on stampede is typical of certain stops which scares even seasoned drivers into stopping the bus a few paces after the bus stand. The boy is squeezed, on the left by a head of teeming legs and on the right by the man seated beside him who refuses to give quarter.

The bus brakes violently; the driver swears loudly; the boy curses severely. A motorist passes by, oblivious to all this, absolving himself of any guilt. “I’m sorry, please forgive me”, the man sitting next to the boy apologises. He blabbers a few more apologies incoherently. The boy is amused. “It is ok,  busses brake and people fall… why is this uncle apologising so profusely?” The ‘uncle' comically gropes for a handle as the bus lurches ahead again’.

The boy is still cramped for room, his posture starting to tire him. He squirms a little and adjusts his posture a little to fit into the now constricted space. As he settles down into reasonable comfort, he is conscious of the man’s hand resting on his knee. He feels strangely reassured. “Only three more stops to go… then dinner”

**************

With just one stop to go, the boy‘s wandering thoughts come back to the road. He checks his bearings once, mentally composing himself for the ordeal of wading to exit. He lets out a deep breath and as he readies himself to get up, he's aware of the man’s hand. It has inched upward from where it was earlier. "what?". He looks at the man quizzically.

There is a gleam in the man’s eye “don’t resist, you will feel good, be calm, let me keep my hands here...” The boy is shocked. He doesn’t 'feel good' at all. In fact the whole thing feels weird. He knows whatever is happening is not right. It can’t be right. Sensing the boy’s panic, the man inches his hand higher up the boy’s leg, rubbing slowly. “Calm down son, I won’t harm you; I’m like a father to you…”

The bus comes to a stop at that precise moment and the boy, with great relief jumps out of the bus. The bus waits for the signal to turn green while the boy stands beside it, disoriented. He doesn’t mind the fact that he'd jumped out at a signal. He doesn't mind the walk to his home either. He shivers a little, he doesn’t know why. He still feels the man’s hands on his legs, he still feels it rubbing against his legs. He feels extremely filthy. “Why did he have to do that? Bastard. Maybe I should have taken the seat next to that drunkard.”