Victim

(Short story)

S. G. Vaidya

The bus left Kolhapur at 8.30 p.m. Niranjan did not face much difficulty in securing a seat for himself near the window. I was in the seat to his. I too had selected window side seat to get fresh air for I hate stuffy weather of a bus or a train. I observed him moving about unmindful of the passengers and people around. He seemed to be obsessed with something queer about him. He had wound a black muffler around his head. He seemed to be a sexagenarian.

There was no considerable rush in the bus. As it was the rainy season most of the passengers refrained from journey. Usually busses on this route are found crowded. The atmosphere outside was quite dull. The conductor was busy in issuing the tickets. As he finished his job he blew the whistle thrice. The driver decoded the language and turned the lights out leaving the passengers in darkness. The hazy sodium vapour lamp-posts receded one by one. The journey of a one and a half hour. The driver took a deviation from high way into the yard of a dabha. There the conductor who had a pot-like-belly, announced: “Ten minutes’ time for tea/supper”. Most of the passengers alighted there to refresh themselves with supper and some with snacks which were not fresh. But Niranjan did not alight. Here the drivers and conductors enjoy at the expense of innocent and helpless passengers. The poor passengers are forced to fill their stomach with stale things at high prices. These dabhas I call the centres of exploitation and drivers and conductors behave like the agents. The bus once again began to move with fresh rattling sound. The feeble clouds driven by the wind poured a little drizzle and aggravated the foul dullness of the atmosphere.

The bus was cutting through the vast plains and panting over the curving climbs of the hills here and there. The loaded lorries that rushed from the opposite direction threw streaks of yellow light, on the greasy faces of the sleepy passengers. The surrounding plains and hills were brightened at once in the lightning for a moment and were again wrapped in darkness.

Some time around 3’o clock the bus entered the newly constructed, scantily populated central bus station at Hubli. The driver turned on the lights. Some lonely flies and humming mosquitoes twirled around them. The motley East spread a dim light. It was here that Niranjan alighted from the bus, putting his hand kerchief and muffler on the seat as his deputies to guard it, lest it be occupied by new passengers who got in. Directly he dashed to the tea house where ordinary brown tea is sold at “night-rates”. He guzzled it hastily and paid double the “day rates”. He then turned towards the bus. But as the driver and conductor had already got in and the latter having blown the whistle, the driver started the bus and the wheels floundered slowly through the slushy ground. I asked the conductor to stop for a while as Niranjan had not come from the tea house. The driver sounded the horn and he came running and boarded the bus. But sauntering in the gangway he was confused and unable to recognize his seat.

The seat upon which he had left his deputies was occupied by two young men, who were fairly well dressed and seemed educated. They looked as if they had travelled in that seat ham the starting point itself. Niranjan approached the seat and said “young men get up. It’s my seat. I travelled from Kolhapur.” One of them rejoined. “What-at? Where is your seat? I travelled in this seat only.”

“Look at the luggage rack. My briefcase is exactly over this seat. It is there as I had adjusted. So it is my seat. You are the impudent intruders. Get you off from my seat” Niranjan reiterated.

At this one of the youngmen was incensed and tucking up his shirt-sleeves said, “You old idiot shut up. It is my seat. My seat. If you speak more I will…..”

Though Niranjan told those obstinate youths that he was not keeping good health and because of dizziness he had vomiting sensation and therefore he had selected the window seat, they paid a deaf ear to him. So he called the conductor who too, being somnolent, said, “Are! Why do you insist on that particular seat only? Go and get seated in any other one, as there are many half occupied seats” and retired to his rear seat to doze off.

Niranjan then turned to his co-passengers and asked them to attest the fact that he travelled by sitting in that seat from the starting point. But nobody opened his mouth and spoke for him. At this point, sensing the possibility of a skirmish I butted in and addressed the youth, “Young man I have seen this gentleman travelling in that seat ever since this bus left Kolhapur. He had just got down here for tea, leaving his belongs here. It would be ungentlemanly on your part if you try to usurp it now.”

The hooligan became angry at my words and abruptly ejaculated. “Who are you to advise me? If you are so big-hearted why not you offer him your seat?”

So I got into a sort of big-hearted incumbency and welcomed him to sit beside me. But he tried the other seats upon which the passengers were lying, some in half drowsiness and some snoring as if lounging on their personal sofas ignoring completely the common understanding that an S.R.T.C. bus is a public property and the seats in it are meant for sitting passengers to sit. Some did not even stir while some others refused to accommodate him. So finally he approached me and I accommodated him.

After adjusting himself comfortably and collecting the belongings he kept them within his access and sat silently. On being asked where he was going he said that he was going to Davanagere; where he had settled down. Formerly he worked for a Private Company in Kolhapur and retired just a couple of months . He had been to Kolhapur to settle some affair there in the Provident Fund Office. He also said that he had settled his third daughter’s marriage for the next month. Though the doctor had advised him not to undertake a long journey the familial responsibility and the circumstances had pushed him into one.

After giving these bits of information about his personal as well as professional life he was silent for a moment. Then he talked of the youngmen’s high-handedness and boorish behavior towards an aged and ailing old man like him, and also the indifference of the passengers even in the moment defending justice. He wondered whether the stream of protest and regard for the old and ailing people was getting sunk into the dreary desert of indifference!

Unmindful of the sleepy passengers, the bus was slitting through the faint darkness of the morning which clothed cold wind. It was at this hour that the mishap befell. He belched severely and abruptly. It seemed he had a retching sensation. He rose immediately in the middle of conversation from his seat and was about to vomit through the door-window. The door latch gave a sudden jerk from the hook and the door opened with a bang throwing him out head long on the road side. The sudden sound alarmed the driver and soon the bus came to a halt. There was a panic-stricken look on every face in the bus. He had fallen flat, his lips licking the road-side soil. His cheeks were cut and there was a ghastly look on his bleeding face. Except for a few minor bruises on his elbows and knees there were no major wounds. But he was unconscious. He was immediately carried into the bus and then admitted into the emergency ward of the “Accident Care” hospital. The doctor said that it would take some time for him to come to his senses. On searching his pocket his ad­dress was found along with phone number. I telephoned to his home. At the other end of the telephone I heard a female voice. Probably it was his wife’s. I consoled her and gave the address of the hospital where he was admitted.

Afterwards we all got into the bus and resumed our journey. Though I reached my place safely my mind was much disturbed by the harrowing experience during the journey. I wondered as to who should be held responsible for the mishap. The questions like what is the real meaning of the word “Right”? Is it simply holding something in possession by hook or crook?; What is the role of the transport corporation in safeguarding the journey of a passenger?; How far the faulty maintenance of the vehicles and their use in transportation are permissible or acceptable? What is the human predicament in the society where everyone is turning into an involuted selfish island?; Why the people, especially the youth become so indifferent and callous towards the ailing old?; Can a society boast of progress which displays an abhorrent disregard for the old and incurs their wrath and curse?; Questions like these harass my mind for sometime.