15 year old me would have died if she was told that she had to travel every weekend for at least 4 and at most 6 to 7 hours. but now, it doesn’t seem that much. To think that I detested any kind of transport and now every week I ride a new kind of public vehicle. Some ugly and uncomfortable, others sleek and comfortable. And every single time, I find a new thing to complain about, which is not exactly a flex. Last weekend, the bus strangely smelt of sugar cane. The time before that, the bus went kind of too slow. And the week prior to that the bus had a horrible horn, the kind of horn you would find on a new khan bus with passengers hanging from the sides and riding on the top. Not to mention the bus I was travelling in was a Daewoo. So yup, life gives you lemons. Also the bus driver had a hobby. His hobby was honking the horn. Continuously. Without any reason. At all. also he refused to slow down the bus. So at every speed bump the bus took a short flight in the air, all passengers hovered above their seats for a few seconds,enjoying their once-in-a-lifetime chance of experiencing anti-gravity.
The thing is, no matter which mode of transport I take, I will end up complaining about it in the end. That’s on me. I’m pretty sure I’d complain as much after ai travel as I do after riding those cowboy buses. But I guess it is pretty exciting too. I get to listen to my playlist, or the baby crying beside me, or the dude coughing up in the front, or the man in the backseat yelling about his controversial public opinion which could get him murdered, or the driver’s playlist which kind of sucks but sometimes the driver has a better taste, so I wont complain about that.
Then there is a completely different assortment of people. Bright and cheerful and sad and sulking and frustrated and angry. Needless to say I am not a fan of public transport. The people. The noise. And yet, I have no choice but to tolerate it.
sometimes it feels weird when I think about it. there is a solid chance that the people I see on the bus this weekend are never to be seen from my eyes again. The driver plays daler mehdi, atif aslam blasts through my earphones, the person next to me enjoys tik toks with loud volume and the child next to me throws a tantrum.
Sometimes it also feels good. It actually feels amazing. No one in the bus knows anyone else. And for a few hours, it is wonderful to just exist. That’s my point actually. Yes, the travel is hectic and unpleasant and I have to make up for the time lost during travel and more often than not it actually ruins my mood. But for the 3 hours I sit in the bus, I do nothing. I observe the universe. I experience it. and maybe sometimes the universe demands to be observed.
It is a brave thing to wake up everyday knowing fully well that some things may never change no matter how much you try. It is a brave thing to travel despite knowing that the destination may not be worth it.
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