41D, 227F and such-like

Copious amounts of water has flown under the bridge since the last time I wrote something worthwhile on my blog. I have been trying to write for a long while but inspiration seems to be playing hide and seek with me and hide it does, very well.

Anyhow, in a desperate attempt, I decided to take the bus to work today. Maybe something will happen along the way which might be blog worthy, i thought. Well, I was proved grossly wrong. But it was a nice experience nevertheless.

The last time I boarded the bus was in 7 months ago, in May, when I had just joined work. I enjoyed the bus rides though it waiting alone for the bus could get a tad tiring at times.

Then a notorious boys college that is close to home reopened and Appa dearest told me not to take the bus any more. So thus came to an end, all the long waits at the bus stop and in the bus. And also did end, my long sessions of people watching.

Ah, how I miss that game. Its quite simple this game. All you have to do is pick a person who you can look at without that person knowing that you are watching him/her. And then, you begin to write the story of their lives in your head.

There are many stories in my head. There is one of the little girl who was crying because she lost her favourite blue pencil. And of the old man who was crying from inside because he had lost his wife. Of the young newly-married couple who had just returned from their honeymoon to Shillong or of the middle-aged newly married couple who had returned from their honeymoon to Goa. Of the old woman who was going to visit her friend from school in a reunion of sorts.

The entire process would last till the person got off the bus. And then it would be shelved in my memory, forgotten. Until a day like this comes along when I come early to work and not having much to do, decide to write about the bus driver who drove like a maniac because he was rushing to catch the late night show of Shivaji with his mistress...