For the past twelve years of my life I’ve been travelling in the school bus.Now that my parents considers me grown up and I have classes starting at 8 a.m ,I had to tell goodbye to those school van travelling days. Life was too simple then and I terribly miss those days .
But now I have moved from that simple world to a real world. I leave home at 7. 15 a.m. every morning. Most days it would be raining heavily and I would get wet by the time I reach the bus stop. Actually this bus stop is not at all like a bus stop,because the place where I leave is not a town but a village on the edge of its transformation into a town, and it would become a town soon and the bus stop would become a real bus stop. I was really surprised to see lots of people waiting for the next bus , because I couldn’t believe that people actually travelled early in the morning. Then I realised that 7.15 am is not early morning but work time for many. I see nurses, sweepers, construction workers,teachers and Govt. employees who work at distant places waiting for the bus. The most prominent of all those people is a fat, old lady with a red scarf ,school shoes and her colourful saree who would be there everyday. She would be either cursing the rain or the bus. I like her so much because she is a kind of signal who informs me whether the bus had already goneor not. If the bus has gone she wouldn’t be there and if has not gone she would be there still cursing..The boy in the chicken stall would be chasing chicken every day. I wonder who on earth wants chicken every morning, that too every day?. Then you could hear the bell ringing and see little children going to Arabic classes,and there comes the newspaperman. A tall man collects the newspaper and before he starts reading the bus arrives and all of us run behind the bus until it stops.
The shops are opened,tea is brewed ,chickens are caught ,the dogs fight and I go to school.