It was late in the evening when I boarded bus to IIIT-RK
Valley. I was looking forward to my new job and its novelties with childlike
wonder. It was nothing like earlier. Life was changing day by day. I had to be
on my own. And being on my own was a beautiful experience- to begin with. If I
wanted to eat, I had to earn. Though a frightening fact for a person of my
background, it soon turned out to be an easy task with all the divine blessings
focused on whatever I was doing. So as I was sitting in the bus, thoughts of
fulfilment and eagerness filled me. ‘Hmm… good’ I thought.
At around 11 pm, the bus started moving out of the hushed din
and buzzle of the never-asleep streets of Hyderabad. Slowly, I crept into my
tiredness and disappeared from the world of silly chores. The clumsily
decorated background of the sleep world
welcomed me as usual with open arms of protection and cheer. The dream had deep,
open tubewells that I usually fell into, long snakes with dark and bright spots
that usually ate me and hundreds of mountains with thousands of cliffs that I
usually fell off from. There were also bright spots where white fairies
fluttered their wings and flew around singing some strange song in unusually
high pitch. There was a tall old man sitting among them with long white beard
and a hallow around his head. The woman who sat next to him was nursing a
child, and was beautiful like I have never seen. I loved this world of the
sleep. It was alluring and repulsive. Honest and deceptive. Trustable and
treacherous. Very human indeed!
But soon, I was shaken out of this beautiful but treacherous
world. The bus stopped at some lonely place. The driver was yelling something
out over the phone. From what I could make out, someone had missed the bus. So
we had to wait. I liked it! In fact, I was waiting for an opportunity to get
out of the bus. I had taken a couple of extra sips of water. I had to do it. It
was high time. See, blessings come in all forms. I ran out of the bus, and did
the needful standing behind a bush, away from the bus. Happy! As soon as I sat
in the bus, it started again. I returned to my world again. Into the world of
paradoxes.
When light broke, I found the bus cruising among arid
mountain ranges fringed with numerous bushes and scary rocks posed dangerously
close to ‘falling off’. It was warm. The rocky hill ranges were already
fighting with the sun in rage. Between my long yawns, small villages rushed
past the bus behind a veil of dust. It was 6.30 am. My neighbour alighted at a
comparatively bigger village. Now I had two seats, all to myself. So I kept my
water bottle on the empty seat and went back to sleep.
I was awake again after a while when the driver started
shouting Vempalli Vempalli… ‘So it it
close to the campus’ thought I. Somehow I dozed off again and again. After a few minutes, I got up and reached for
my water bottle. It was gone! My water
bottle is gone. I couldn’t believe my eyes. So I checked if my bags and
pockets also lost something. But no. everything is its place. Only the bottle
is gone.
Out of all things I carried, why this water bottle? I have a
costly camera, hard disk, shoe, certificates, books, clothes, … Why the bottle?
It was my dear bottle. 750 ml bottle. Cute and small. I loved it. It was Satish
who gave me that bottle. I had carried that bottle around for the last three
months across three states, and over 4500 kilometres. And now it is gone.
I was upset. I reached the campus at 7.30 am. There nobody
knew how to process a new lecturer. So I had to wait upto 10 am to brush my
teeth. I had my bath in the office of the Director! I was assigned an
apartment, but no one knew where my flat mate was or what his phone number was.
I was homeless and BOTTLELESS!
Then again, god sent me some of my friends. They took care of
me. J
Life moves on with blessings scattered among ill feelings and disappointments
and lost bottles, like the arid mountains fringed by bushes- fighting with the
sun’s fury.
Now it is three days on campus. I have learned that things do
not come easily to anyone here. The system stands tall like a capitalist. And
the beneficiaries stick around like bonded labourers masking
insecurity and unhappiness. Still there are genuine smiles among IIIT’ians.
Still there are hopes woven into the garment of disappointment. Life goes on without a bottle as well… and
I have started liking it already- like my treacherously paradoxical world of
sleep.
