Mysore Road — Closed Blinds
I could tell by looking at him he didn’t show his emotions well.
On the private, non A/C bus on which we rode to Mysore on, the gentleman to my right sat rigidly upright. He wore a perfectly pressed pink collared button up shirt, slacks, and a large golden wedding band that seemed to cut off circulation to his fingers. As the bus finally departed the station, he methodically answered one phone call after another in Hindi — business calls of some sort. Each time he ended the phone call, he placed his cellphone in his breast pocket, where his receipts and bus ticket laid neatly folded.
But the phone calls diminished as the landscape changed. The city blocks that were once fully inhabited by cement, tin stalls, construction sites and hotels were replaced by vistas of agriculture. Views began reflecting what Bangalore was once was known for — its greenery. The scenery became increasingly submersed in the sun glimmering on rock facaded mountains and fields of coconut trees. Eventually the city was no more.
Unimpressed, or possibly too exhausted from the day, the gentleman to my right, still staunchly upright, drifted asleep.
And there was me. With no battery on my phone to distract me, all I could do was look out my window in awe. Due to the monsoon, I hadn’t seen that kind of sunlight in weeks. But in the midst of such beauty, my heart became saddened and angry. Alone in my thoughts, I began to over analyze all the decisions I’ve made in the last year. I remembered times of extreme joy, and moments of happiness and pride. But I also lingered on all the mistakes I’ve made, and the unfounded trust I’ve placed in people. As I grew further into anger, I became even more upset with myself, and why such feelings kept me from appreciating such a beautiful place. And then, I began to silently cry.
Eventually the unevenness of the road and the sporadic stopping of the bus made it impossible for the gentleman next to me to sleep. With a quick push of the brakes, the entire bus flung forward. The window curtains whipped him in the face, startling him into consciousness. When he turned and noticed my tears, he immediately looked away.
But after a moment of deliberation, he wrapped the curtain tightly on the draw string lining the walls of the bus, and adjusted it to block the blinding light hitting my face. And as we approached a traffic jam from a accident on the road, he again looked over at me, and proceeded to shut the window, stopping the dust from entering into our seats.
Silently, and possibly the only way he knew how, he was protecting me from the elements he perceived to cause me pain. Following suite, I closed my eyes, and shut out the world.
