Science fiction : A bus ride in the present

 

Science fiction : A bus ride in the present

It was afternoon. The day looked bright, the leaves shook intermittently as the feeble gusts of breeze moved them tenderly.

People, lot of people went past me and for quite a number of them I went past them, it was a scene of life in the boxing ring of reality, with just one difference, the boxing ring did not comprise of just two contenders, it was the arena of life where everyone was a boxer attempting his/her knockout punch in the face of formidable and ubiquitous adversary we all know as : fate,chance and time. And as I was tied to them and their tricks, so was everyone else who dared to be out in the street of life and take on the adversary with every ounce of his/her courage.

So, on this afternoon, I was in this bazaar of life, where everyone was busy. The street vendors screamed to attract customers. It was like all musical instruments playing aloud at the same time, yet the sounds were so distinct that in this enormous collision of musical sounds, one could easily distinguish the sound of his/her taste and be effortlessly led to its origin. And for me this musical and high pitched voice sounded somewhat like this: 

“Hey come on quick, 

There are seats empty and you can choose and pick, 

Hey come on quick, 

The bus is ready and we are leaving quick, 

Destination X, whrooomm whrooom, we are leaving , come on quick!”

And my destination was X. the moment these syllables travelled through the air and reverberated against my agogly waiting ear-drums, my footsteps stood still for a nano second, then I changed my direction to reach the origin of this sing songish daily commentary of the bus conductor. And after having walked for less than a minute, there he was, with a smile that welcomed everyone. It was a very unique smile, because there was no ingredient of formality in it, because over the years, it had settled as a permanent resident on the contours of his face.

It was one of the most original smiles one could witness, provided one was willing to look around and admire a few genuine displays of life’s beauty, even in the ruthless boxing ring of life, where everyone wants to last long. At least as long as fate, chance and time permit him/her to.

And today, I paused, and witnessed this beauty. Then I boarded the bus, there was definitely some truth in his routine sing songish commentary. I did find a seat that I could choose and pick from several empty seats. So, I settled in one of the seats and waited for the “whrooom” part of his commentary to come alive. And as if the driver could read my mind, he pressed the accelerator and the bus left its stoppage, and started cruising towards destination X.

The conductor stood at the door. Tapped his chin with the index and middle fingers of his right hand, then as if something possessed him, he looked revitalised, and he assumed his real avatar. That of the money collector. He folded notes of following denominations:

Rupees 5

Rupees 10

Rupees 20

And placed them separately within the gaps between his fingers, then he looked at everyones face, as if he wanted to register everyone in the visual database of his mind. Where he stores these faces: faces of passengers, faces of lovers, faces of people in the boxing ring of life. And as passengers pay, somehow his mind places a marker on the face of each passenger, to make sure that he does not visit him/her again and ask for money that he/she has already paid. 

( This is my personal observation: Most of the conductors are extremely good at recognising faces. And that is the wonder of human brain. It can evolve in any direction and achieve excellence. )

Then, he wore his smile again, but this time it was more refined, more detailed, and completely settled in his face. And he approached the first passenger, who sat next to the driver,

“Sir, whereto?”

( This is how it would translate in our Kashmiri dialect : Koueet haeez janab? )

The passenger understood that “whereto” was the polite way of saying, "money please.” While he was rubbing his fingers against the currency notes held between his fingers. 

The passenger did the needful, and the conductor moved to the next passenger. It must have been his sixth interaction where he took a little longer than usual. It was a beautiful interaction, where the beauty of human interaction stood out, where there was no boundation of grammar, no punctuation of formality; if there was any punctuation at all, it was that of the sudden jerks the passenger felt and he/she was forced to either absorb the jerk and swallow the word, or just absorb the jerk and choke. Most of the passengers opted for the former option. And I overheard this conversation of linguistic brilliance and the originality of the culture, which is best showcased in means of public transport like: buses, trains, autos, shared mini vans etc. etc.

The conversation between the conductor and the wonderful lady.

“Salam madam!

( Salam in muslim culture is Hello )

Salam!

Whereto madam?

Ah! Destination X, just as usual.

Ok madam!

But this time , it will be four of us. Yes Four, respected sir!

( Zchoor haeez jenab : would translate as : four, respected sir! ) 

Sure respected madam, four it is respected madam!"

( Adee Haeez, 4 haeez jenab : would translate as : Sure respected madam, four it is respected madam! Here without using any word for gender, the word of respect is neutral in gender and is applied to both men and women)

The conductor has mastered the skill of standing upright with complete immunity to jerkings, without holding on to the hand support bar running across the roof of the bus. And there he stood right in front of the “respected lady” looking at her hands, but never at her face. Never, maybe that was his way of expressing politeness. Although in many cultures, where eye contact is avoided, one tends to come across as impolite. But in this part of the world, and at least on this bus, it was not so.

But all of a sudden, the conductor had to make a serious effort to regain his balance. Not that there was jerking, but the lady turned all of a sudden, inadvertently pushing the conductor aside, while attempting to stop her other female companions from paying the conductor. And this is how the conversation progressed further.

"Oh no, please let us pay. 

God swear! 

No, no, God swear, it is our turn to pay. 

If you really love me, please let me pay. 

God swear, please allow me to pay."

But the lady did not endorse any of her pleas, and held the most dominant female companion's hand with her left hand, while she was feeling her leather bag, to pull the exact amount from its depths, only known to her fingertips. She was about to retrieve the exact amount, when one of her another companions intervened.

"No look!

You pay everyday.

Someday let us pay too!

No, No. No, this is not right!

God swear!"

Then the lady who was the one actually interacting with the conductor, whose eyes were still fixed on her hand, and now another object too. Her handbag. Spoke authoritatively.

"Now all of you look!

I am paying, at least today I am.

Maybe tomorrow. We will see.

But right now. No, no, no. God swear I am paying!"

Then she somehow wrestled with the hands of other companions and freed her hand that bore red impressions of fingers clutching on to it like the jaws of strong crocodile. Her poor, almost squeezed hand. She wanted to comfort it a bit. But love for her companions prevailed and she instead chose to hold the currency notes with it and offer it to the patiently waiting conductor.

And his spontaneous reaction was as follows:

"Thank you, respected madam. It is the exact amount. I will see you at destination X."

With this he proceeded to the next passenger and finally it was my turn.

He looked at me, examined me from head to toe, and he almost instinctively said, 

“You sir, seem new on my bus.

First time on my bus.

If you travel daily sir, I can always reserve a seat for you sir?

By the way, where to sir?”

I smiled, and answered.

"I do travel to destination X, but not everyday. But I thank you, respected sir, for your consideration. I really thank you sir!"

And I handed him the money. And he returned me 5 rupees, that he pulled from the five rupee notes stashed within his fingers. And as he walked further, he turned and said, “thank you sir!”

Then he came to an old man, who seemed to be in his late 80s.

"Oh sir. Respected dear sir. Oh sir!

( This is how it will translate : Janaab! Haetee haeeez jenbab . Adee haeez janab.)

How have you been sir? Seeing you after many weeks sir!"

The old man slowly lifted his head, placed it in such a way that his eyes looked right into the eyes of the conductor, who winked them a bit slowly now, and I do not know why. He placed the hand holding the currency notes between his fingers, behind his back.

To the old man who had seen so many sunrises and sunsets, a display of money would come across as a display of vanity. And it was perhaps cultural politeness that made the conductor hold the hand behind his back. Although, for a conductor it is his job to collect the money. 

In India we have a saying that goes somewhat like this:

If a horse makes friends with grass, what will the horse eat.

But in this case, the conductor's social grooming made him befriend grass, while he could still taste the grass. This is what makes cultures and societies unique. Each in its fine ways, fine details, and extremely minute expressions. Just like now, the conductor touched the epitome of good manners and social etiquette. It was remarkable; for any social scientist it can be a topic of thesis. But for most of us busy in the boxing ring of life, these incidents, these lessons of life go unnoticed.

Anyway, returning to the scene.

The old man, finally achieves a comfortable angle of social etiquette to address, not a bus conductor, but a man, just like him, busy launching punches in the ring of his life.

"Oh sir! Thank you sir, now life is moving. Just moving I suppose. I had been away for some time. But God is merciful and gracious enough. I am still able to greet you and witness life in its motion. 

So how much will it be sir. Kindly help me here, I have forgotten."

( This is how it will translate : taee jenaab koueet haaz ghou. Meharbaneee kareth wanetavh jenab. Mashrafhh haeez chuu wanee ghasaan )

"Praise the Almighty; sir!

You are fine and I feel glad you are here again.

Sir, it will be,15 rupees. Sir!"

Replied the conductor.

The old man smiled, more with his eyes, and less with his face, and handed him the money. Which the conductor politely took from his hand and then returned the balance amount.

Then he did something extraordinary, even in the midst of this rush, when the boxing match in his ring had reached its climax, and he was receiving punches from all directions.

Being a trained and experienced boxer, he did not duck. Yes he did not duck at all!

He bowed a little, just a little that the old man recognised, and he found a reason to live another day, one more day. And smile for a few more seconds, before he would be knocked out of the boxing ring. And his boxing bout will end forever. 

It was something only an experienced boxer can do or understand. That when the fellow boxer is falling, you do not regale, but be humble and bow, as a mark of respect to the boxer, who stood there in the boxing ring of life for 80 years. And did it, his way. And it takes a lot of courage to do things your way, because standing in the crowd is easy, but standing alone takes a lot of courage. It takes a real man and a real woman, made of honour, self respect, character, humbleness, and love!

The boxer in him had not given up, and even at 80, he was not willing to quit. The bow of the conductor was a silent and discreet reminder to all those witnessing this incident; that life is a ruthless boxing ring, where even the heavyweight boxers fall and tumble, but only the boxers who get up after every fall, shall remain in the ring and deserve the conductor’s well measured and perfectly timed bow. 

The old man, now looking at his wrist watch, wound it, and then he got busy in the view that the window seat of the moving bus could offer him. But from the look in his face, he enjoyed the view that moved like an image that was being continuously overstretched.

Now the bus conductor approached, a very young boy.

"Oh! Oh!

It is you little Golden sir!

( Little Golden sir, it is a phrase very unique to this dialect, ( Sounee Ghobour Janaab ) it is not found in other languages. This language possesses many such refinements which are very unique and do not exist in any other language. As far as I know, based on my knowledge of languages gathered by watching amazing documentaries on YouTube! )

So, to school.

Travelling alone little Golden sir!?"

( You will notice two punctuation marks. I have done this on purpose. Because in our language it is a question as well as a confirmation. Surprising. It is to be honest!)

And the little boy, who appeared to be staying in a hostel. His eyes bore every sign that he was missing someone. So he said,

"Yes. Yes. respected sir!"

( Ahaan haeez, Ahaan haeez. Janaab!)

He used all respectful words to address him, he used his entire vocabulary, but he kept it short and abruptly concluded his sentence. And this tells a lot about his emotional state, that influenced the flow of his language and choice of his words, and his intonation too.

The experienced conductor sensed it in his case too. He ran his hand with currency notes over the boy's head, then looked at his face, flashed a smile, that gradually developed into a grin, and the boy smiled, for a moment forgetting everything. For a moment his mind was on the bus, just for a brief moment. For whatever reason, the conductor accepted 5 rupees less from him. And went away, to have a conversation with his pal, with whom he felt a boxer in the ring of life, where the boxing match is mostly between boxers of the same caliber. And they laughed and chatted freely.

And I, who witnessed these scenes, was silently watching everything, until I heard a loud voice, “Destination X! Destination X! Please get down. Please!)

While he was shouting these lines, he approached the old man, held his hand, and helped him get down. The old man, who was not willing to turn his neck, smiled, walked straight, but when he reached the pavement, he breathed in a little more air than usual, and this time he bowed.

And only the conductor noticed both : the smile and his bow, though he could not see his face. But he understood it. And he once again returned to the boxing ring, and this time everything was the same, except one thing, the destination had changed. Only the destination had changed and wit it the passengers too!

And he once again entered the boxing ring of life with the same commentary where destination was the only variable:

“Hey come on quick, 

There are seats empty and you can choose and pick, 

Hey come on quick, 

The bus is ready and we are leaving quick, 

Destination Y, whrooomm whrooom, we are leaving , come on quick!”

Now I was at destination X, the same bus was now bound for destination Y, with different passengers. And who knows, when I have completed my chores of the day, the same bus, the same conductor will be there, and I will be onboard the same bus, now bound for destination Y. Where I may come across few familiar faces or few new passengers of life.

I guess this is life, this is everything about life. Only if you ponder long enough and think about it in your moment of peace.

And it was on this bus that I got this wonderful idea to write my science fiction novel, They Loved in 2075. Its inspiration was every passenger on board the bus, because it made me wonder, when human civilisation would have advanced in 2075, and we will be travelling via auto piloted buses, where everything will be electronically managed.

In a bus without the driver and without the conductor, what will become of the linguistic sensitivities, its refinements, its micro level details, and most important of all, what will become of human emotion? Especially who will tell the old man, you still are a boxer and a formidable force to launch that knock out punch, just stay there and do not give up? Who will tell the “little sir” that it is all right, this too will pass, on the festival holidays you will be back to do what you like the most. To be the young little, still learning boxer, in the ring of boxing heavy weights?

Now, for the rest, you will have to explore the science fiction, They Loved in 2075 and decide how humans should deal with these issues of today, to make our technology enriched tomorrow more responsible, more sensitive and a little bit more human-like.

So let the buses be designed on auto pilot technology, but let there be conductors and bus drivers as well, and when they are sometimes tired and they need a break, let them use the auto pilot mode. But letting autopilot use them, may not be the right way. 

Every technology has social and psychological outcomes, without knowing them it will be like attempting to steal honey from the honeycomb with our faces forced into it; and not using our hands and some protection. Whether this is wise or imprudent, I shall let you decide?

For now, I shall take your leave. Because my boxing ring is waiting for me, and I am ready with my boxing gloves on, and my will, clad in steel armour. And if you heard some knocking while reading this last line, it was me, already launching my punches. By the way, I heard the old man’s punches too, so I am sure he has reached home safely and he too is in his ring.

Welcome to the ring of life and see you there!