The Bus Ride

“Do you want to have Coca-Cola?”

“Huh”. Sunita was stirred from her reverie and she realised that the bus had stopped at a roadside dhaba. The other passengers had gotten off. Some were nibbling on stale potato chips while a few others ran to the ramshackle loo.

Her husband, Rajesh asked again “do you want coca-cola?”. She replied ‘No” absentmindedly. “It’s ok. Don’t be shy. I am your husband now. You can tell me anything. If you feel hungry. If you feel thirsty. Do you want to use the bathroom? The next stop is the city. That’s another three hours away. It’s better if you go now. Or at least eat something.”

“No. I’m fine,” replied Sunita and went back ruminating.

“You don’t speak much do you?” sighed Rajesh but she wasn’t really paying attention.

It was true that she had lost her appetite ever since the wedding day. Her relatives from as far as three villages away had come to partake of the feast. Everyone was dressed in their finest clothes. The children ran around playing hide and seek as their parents took second, third helpings of the pulao and chicken curry and gulab jamun and sherbet. Such a grand spread was never seen.  Women came up to Sunita to give her their blessings. “Your life is made beti” they said. And why not. Her husband worked in the big city as a cook in a big bungalow. And his employers had even given him a nice room within the vicinity of the big house, right next to the garden. What’s more, he had saved enough money to buy a motorbike and he had paid for the entire marriage banquet. He had no vices that plagued others of his age. He was young and handsome with a moustache that gave him the look of a Hindi film hero. Her friends were beside themselves with jealousy. Her life really was made.

Or was it?

No sooner had this thought run through her head when the drone of motorbikes startled her. Everyone held their breath as the dust storm moved closer and closer. Pretty soon they  reached the roadside shack of a restaurant and started demanding money from the shopkeeper and the other passengers. No one dared to move or even protest since one of them was carrying a pistol. Before she could figure what was happening she saw, as Rajesh in one quick leap, pounced on the man carrying the pistol. The bystanders as if roused from a hypotonic state quickly rounded off the other gang members. Sunita watched her three-day new husband give a punch here and a kick there. In no time the passengers succeeded in giving a sound trashing to the miscreants. By the time the police arrived at the scene, they had been done in and piled in a mangled heap.

The police congratulated Rajesh for having shown presence of mind at such a testing time.

Remembering his wife suddenly, he ran inside the bus to check if she was okay. When Sunita saw Rajesh the words just came tumbling out her mouth “My parents lied to you. I can’t cook everything. I can’t make chapattis. When I was sixteen I fell in love with my neighbour’s boy but they moved to another village. Sometimes when I’m alone at home I dance in front of the mirror...” Rajesh looked at her with amused eyes. She smiled back. “I don’t like coca-cola but if they have water I can do with a bottle.”

“I’ll just get one” said Rajesh grinning as he ran to the dhaba.