The Hesitation

 

That day was an unusually bad day for Seema. She was in her postgraduate class at the university, and she could not finish a practical experiment in time, so she missed her regular government bus to her hometown at 4:30 p.m. She waited for two hours before she could find the next bus.

 

The next bus came after 6:30 p.m., and it was more crowded than its capacity.

 

Seema hesitated to get in.

"Get in. I will arrange a seat for you. This is the last bus. No other bus is going to come. All private buses are running on election duty." The conductor said

 

There was no option. Seema got up and managed to obtain one-fifth of a seat.

 

The bus halted every 5 minutes to pick up more passengers. Seema got engaged in her favorite part of the bus journey: ‘deep thinking’.

"Why am I so economically down? Poverty is the biggest imprecation that society gives to more than 15% of the Indian people."Seema was thinking, focusing her gaze on the

backward-running trees through the broken glass window of the private bus.

 

Practically, she wanted to distract herself from the commotion taking place inside the overcrowded bus. Squeezed to the window, she was wishing her body to be melted and mixed with the tin cover of the bus. In a seat of three, at least five were sitting. The bus was packed in such a way that if one was to get down somewhere, one had to struggle for 10 minutes before reaching the exit door of the bus. A man was standing in the middle area between the two rows of seats, putting his hand on the backrest of Seema’s seat in such a way that in any instant he was going to grab Seema's neck, pushing the girl and squeezing her into the metal.

The bus was running very slowly. It was already 8 p.m., which was late for Seema because she usually reached her home at 6 p.m.; her town was 65 kilometers from her college. Daily, she had to commute to and fro as she couldn't take hostel admission or, if told specifically, her father couldn't afford hostel fees. Belonging to the general caste means in no way fees could be reduced, but if you traveled daily by bus, you would get bus passes with student concessions that were negligible compared to hostel fees. So she preferred daily commutes to her university.

 

"Today is this bus's lucky business day. No other bus is going to take general passengers today, so the conductor is squeezing people to their maximum capacity.” The man sitting near Seema started a conversation. But Seema was not interested in talking to any strangers. She couldn't see many ladies on this bus, so she thought it was better to avoid any conversation with anyone. People might think she was arrogant, but it was her self-defense technique. She could remember the Nirvay case in Delhi, and it was fresh in her mind.

"The bus is running very slowly. It may take one more hour to reach our town." The man continued his one-sided talking.

 

Seema kept her gaze fixed on the glass window, though it was completely dark outside. Suddenly, an unknown fear grappled with her thoughts.

"The bus is going to reach her stop at 9 p.m. Her small town has a habit of completely sleeping at 9 p.m. on a winter night. Her house is almost a 1.5-kilometer walk from there". The sheer thought of walking alone on the deserted road paralyzed her limbs. She lifted her eyes to scan the whole bus in the hope of finding someone known among the crowd. But she could only observe the piercing eyes of several co-passengers fixed on her. At that moment, she realized she was the only lady in the entire bus; those few traveling with her had gotten down at their respective destinations.

When the bus reached the small town of western Odisha, it was already 9:15 p.m. Due to the cold weather, most of the shops were

closed, only a few were open, and they were also closing the shutters. The road was almost deserted.

Seema got down from the bus with all the passengers, as it was the last stoppage for the bus.

“Hey girl,” someone called her when she was hurriedly descending from the bus.

Seema was not in a mood to stop for anything or anyone; she rushed and walked as fast as she could. She could sense two or three men starting to follow her. It was her female sense telling her that those men behind her were following her.

She started to run.

 

“Slow down. Walk with me, please. Talk to me as if you knew me. I was sitting near you so everyone would think we knew each other.” The voice of a man halted her run.

Seema slowed down and walked with the man unconsciously, as if the voice of that man had an unconditional assurance of safety.

“I am a postman and live in the Sabar Sahi. Where do you live?” the man asked.

“Near the petrol pump,” Seema did not want to disclose her actual location.

“On the main road?”

“No, behind the petrol pump,” Seema said hesitantly.

"Okay, in Naya Sahi. I can come with you to your house. I know many people there. Do you live near Jadu Babu, who has a stationary shop near the market? He lives exactly behind the petrol pump.”

“No, I do not know,” Seema said. She knew that she lied to the man and that her house was not near Jadu Babu’s house. She did not want a stranger to know her home. Also, she did not want anyone to see her dilapidated house.

On a cold winter night, she was walking with a stranger on a deserted road, but she was feeling safe. She lifted her head and saw the man with him for the very first time. He was a middle-aged man with a slim figure and thick, curly hair, genuinely concerned for her safety. She turned to see her back and found some men still following her.

After walking for seven minutes, they slide down the main road towards the lane adjacent to the petrol pump.

 

“My home is in the next lane; I can go by myself from here.” Seema said this after crossing two lanes.

“No problem; I will drop you off at home. Don’t worry about me; I know this area very well," the man said.

But Seema had different things in mind. ”What are my ever-busybody neighbors going to think after finding me returning home at this odd hour with a man?”

Before he was 100 feet from the house, Seema started to run, leaving the man behind. She reached the door of her home and looked back. The man was standing around 30 feet from her home. Immediately, he turned back and started to go back.

Seema wanted to call him but stopped. A sudden guilt overpowered her. How rudely she had behaved toward the man; neither she had asked him his name nor she had thanked him.

She entered her home, taking a vow to help someone someday selflessly, as she had gotten that help that day from that stranger.