Journey Back Home

Its quarter to ten post meridian. In a hustling AC public transport bus, covering the distances of this vast Delhi, are tired people from work. And some are like me, tired from classes; all on our way back to our resting abodes.

The shuttered shops are making some great listeners to the horns of the innumerable vehicles, whose red rear decorates the roads like the Diwali lights does to my balcony railings. A peppy number is being aired. In the serious expression on every face, quiet rested mouths and isolated world of thoughts, tuned taps of an old uncle's fingers on the seat just shook our indepedent mundane subconscious.

To follow, now the person next to me is fine moving his fingers on his laptop bag in synchronicity to the musical notes. The middle aged lady staring through the wide glass pane of the bus, at the vehicles and the skyline of Delhi, is making subtle tilts and musical movements. Needless to say, I too am humming my stress out and miming the song.

Contagious and refreshing.

One fine journey back home, I must say.