The 486 Attraction

Friday. In Mumbai. An extremely wet sloshy sticky Mumbai. Maddening traffic, screeching honks, faultily functioning headlights, countless puddles, an army of dirty vehicles, so many people, such little patience, two handbags, one me and God alone knows how many thoughts!!!!



That day Mumbai seemed particularly wetter, the traffic seemed even more maddening, just about every driver seemed to have conspired to create a blaring cacophony of honks, no vehicle sped past me without courteously splashing a generous amount of muddy water on my light blue jeans, everything was just about ten times worse.........or was it simply my temper which was ten times shorter?

Ironically, I had every reason to be happy that day. It was my first day of second year engineering.....I had somehow managed to survive the first....my bag was new, my classroom would be new, my subjects would be different and thankfully my friends would be the same. The best part perhaps was that my timings had changed due to which I was required to reach half an hour later than I usually did...which meant getting up a little later...setting out a little later....reaching the bus-stop a little later....which meant missing bus. no 486....which meant no more 486 attraction. And  thereby hangs a tale.

Nobody would have guessed that my foul mood was caused entirely due to the single fact that I would not be able to board bus no. 486. and instead needed to travel by no.562. Both the buses were identical, they both had the same red colour, they both catered to a characteristic overhelming crowd of impatient people like me, they both even had the same poster of Besharam with Ranbir Kapoor sliding!!! So what the hell was it that bothered me? Was it simply the change in schedule, or the route that the bus took, or the people who got in.......or perhaps the ones who got out.....or just simply one person who got out?

My previous 486 travels had always been...well...quite interesting....not because of the people I travelled with, but because of the people, or rather person, who left the bus when I boarded it.  A boy perhaps my age or a year or two older, was one of the regular passengers of 486, just like me. His destination was my starting point, and so his seat became my seat. It had started two years ago that I, along with a few other pushy passengers would feverishly covet that seat in that bus which was invariably packed to the brim when the bus graced my stop. The moment this boy would get up to leave, we ran an intra-bus marathon to reach the seat. However, in this race, there was only a gold medal, not a sliver or bronze, and the gold medallist obviously enjoyed a comfortable journey downtown.

Now let me add in a word about our fellow passenger who had occupied so much of my mindshare. He looked a student to me, possibly an engineering student because he carried an engineering drawing kit every Thursday.....he was very tall and had a slightly dusky complexion. His hair were a little long for my taste initially but gradually the style had started to grow on me. He had light brown eyes, a slight stubble, and the most amazing smile which displayed the pearliest white teeth I had ever seen. But eventually he was just a passenger, a fellow student, a stranger, and because I never got around to knowing his name, my 486 attraction.

Over time I became the gold medallist every single day. It was not that I was an amazing runner nor did I specialize in pushing my way through a crowd, it was simply that Mr. 486 simply refused to budge from his seat till I came. Only then did he rise and allow me to sit, completely unfazed by the glowering glares that he received from seething passengers. Was I his 486 attraction? I don't know, but then, how many of us can boast of a reserved seat  in an overflowing BEST bus during peak hour? Surely that was something.

We never spoke to each other, I never said thanks, so he in turn could never reply that it was his pleasure. We never even wished each other a courteous good morning. We simply shared around forty-five seconds of our twenty four hour day in this seat exchanging session which always ended with a smile. Yes, a mutual smile was the only mode of communication that we shared in the twenty first century and amazingly, both of us never felt the need to improvise.

His smile had become  a very important part of my day and therefore I was always on time to catch my bus and my smile.

Now, after these glorious two years of 486 attraction, today was the first day I would be missing it, missing 486 to catch 562, missing a reserved seat to fight for a common one and missing a smile for  a whole bunch of new grimaces. Thus lamenting on my situational dilemma, I moodily trudged along the slushy lanes. Out of sheer habit, I checked my watch. 8:50 a.m. . With a sinking feeling I realised 486 would have already arrived and left the bus stop. My 486 attraction would now be heading to wherever he headed everyday, possibly wondering why I had not shown up. For the next ten minutes I analysed the situation almost a hundred times while sauntering upto the bus stop. When I finally reached the bus stop and looked, I was greeted with the sight of a horde of passengers, almost double the number I had had to handle with 486.This was like the last thing I needed. Fuming silently, I headed towards the queue which was being formed and in the process collided head on with someone. I looked up into a pair of light brown eyes and momentarily felt dazy. There he was, my 486 attraction, standing in front of me. It took me some time to question myself as to why he was still there. For me??? Had he actually waited ? To see whether I came late? Or did he just suddenly happen to take such a keen interest in the bus stop that he had been staring at it all this while. Quite frankly, at that time, both the options had seemed equally likely to me.What will you say when I admit that I still did not say anything. He looked at me with a quizzical expression in his eyes and a mock angry smile. Just then bus no. 562 came speeding in, carrying on the convention of splashing water on me. It was just that this time I did not care. I looked at the bus. I looked at him. And then.....I smiled....just smiled and without looking back  at him boarded the bus which left the stop as abruptly as it had entered it.

Now that day 1 of 562 was over, I was comparatively better mentally prepared the next day. Though there was a lurking hope within me that even today there would be a tall lanky boy, simply well, waiting for some complex reason on the bus stop. But when I reached, he was not there. All the passengers who had been waiting the day before were there but the one I was waiting for wasn't. Luckily to cut the wait, or rather hurt, short, 562 punctually scared the hell out of us by speeding in abruptly as usual. I somehow managed to wriggle inside the bus. As I stepped in, somebody at the other end rose, waved at me and smiled. Somebody tall, with long hair and the most amazing smile. I wove my way through the passengers and hurried upto to him. I just couldn't belive it. He was still smiling as I sat down and after two years, I finally broke the ice.  "You came by 562!!"

He simply smiled even more.

"Won't you be late today?" I asked him unsurely

Shrugging his shoulders, he finally spoke, "I"ll just have to manage, won't I?" and then after a pause and smile, continued, "See you tomorrow."

Mumbai suddenly seemed amazing, the traffic suddenly seemed to be moving like butter, the honks were sounding so melodious, and I was just so happy. Reason : My 486 attraction had advanced to the 562 connection.