Accidental affinity.

That cold morning of 4th of October was a real vision test, tougher than the one at my ophthalmologist. The first number was 23 but it wasn’t mine. It was for a bystander in a blue suit. The next looked like an ‘80’ but our numbers stretched only till the 40s. A little more pressure on the neck, I could’ve evolved into a giraffe by the end of four years. Eagerly craning my neck, I confirmed that number was 30 from a surprising focal length. It was my number.

Not bad at all.

Those were the unfashionable days I wore them unsightly semi-rimless glasses. A book in my hand would complete my kind of stereotypes. ‘Padipps’ Only time I decided to wear them was when professors walked into the lecture hall because, hey, my new haircut deserved the due attention. Also, I looked less nerdy and more approachable as a person to peers.

The cheerful yellow bus 30 came bouncing on the broken roads of Jet Nagar with less than the usual number of people on board. Why? Because the next five days were Pooja holidays, Oct 5th-9th 2011. On normal days, the bus got noisy the moment a fresher stepped inside. Had I been more rebellious to bunk Physics lab scheduled on that day, I would’ve certainly had very different memories of my very first semester in college.

The previous day was an ice breaker with seniors in the bus. You really don’t have to know this, but I’m a junk memory show-off, I wore a red salwar, fell in love with Engineering Graphics, whined about losing 12 marks in the first Engg. Math Test to a poor bloke who’d hardly attempted any question, I swear I still feel so awkward about that conversation.

I was in all smiles. (Side effect of a new haircut coupled with ice breaking sessions of the previous day) It was my turn to take the window seat in the plush three-seater. If you thought this was all about my affinity to a window seat, no, this is also about how it saved my life.

Neela, a supposedly studious girl from Computer Science Stream, got in and sat beside, greeting me with one of her childlike smiles I later fell for. I thought, she’ll probably be the one comfortable with my world of exams and books.

The commute time is usually an hour in the mornings, so much time to catch up on lost sleep, so much time to finish preparing for Unit Tests. Listening to songs in our earphones was one way to pass the time during the ride and that’s exactly what I did.

At about 7:30-ish a.m, when we were so close to our destination, I woke up to a jarring noise, not the song I had in loop. A brief moment of intense silence passed before the universe around me collapsed. Intuition woke me up to cling onto the grab rail right in front of my seat. I was still breathing hard and fast, still living with pain shooting up my spine.

Glass panels in every window shattered simultaneously, people were wailing, a girl was writhing in pain, a professor in the bus was fervently crying in Vishnu Sahasranamam while another was calling out to Jesus, the whole bus turned dark and dusty, a strange liquid dripped over us. A few minutes later I was on my feet, feeling a throbbing pain in my head. The bus had spun out of control and had flipped 90 degrees to the left. Since I was in the window seat at the right side of the bus, it saved me from a dangerous impact on the ground.

The aftermath was beyond horror. A girl’s entire leg was stuck beneath the chassis of the bus. The longer we stood inside the bus, the longer she had to endure the pain from our weight.

I promise I am not heading into gory descriptions of the horrific event. Neela suffered a broken chest bone. I was saved with a minor muscle pull in my spine. I quit sleeping in buses for about a month. Fear crept in every time there was an unexpected pull of the brake. Life took over, time speeded up, in other words, I partially recovered from the trauma.

It was a month of recuperation, a month of searching new bus routes, a month of starting the game of ice breaking again. Everyone in the bus shifted to different routes. She could have very well taken a route that was closer to her home, however, she chose to travel in the one that was closer to mine. Bus number 27.

Among the many wild experiences we shared, this incident was a catalyst to our friendship. Now that she’s leaving India; I would certainly miss her and will probably never find one like her, I wanted to preserve this memory here.