RK Diaries #1 - Not a short story

Hello readers,

This post is not a short story. It is just a blog from my life. This post has a few fictional elements to make reading interesting. So please don't expect any twists, as in the RK Short Stories!! Happy reading.

I boarded an air-conditioned MTC bus to go to my office. I found a window seat and bought my ticket. It would take 1 hour and 15 minutes for me to reach the bus stop near my office. I am an avid reader. I took a book, titled "Non-Serial Killer," from my bag. It had 300 pages, and I was reading the 280th page with intense focus.

When I reached my destination, I completed reading 13 pages.

"It should be the younger brother of Akash," I thought as I walked towards my office. "It may also be Akash, as he was a close friend of Mallika." "Let me find out by reading the remaining pages," I decided.

I completed my office work in the next nine hours.

At 8:20 p.m., I reached the bus stop to return home. An MTC bus to my place arrived after 10 minutes. It was filled with passengers, and I found no place to stand.

I planned to wait for any AC bus in which I might get a seat. After 15 minutes, an AC bus with jam-packed passengers crossed the bus stop. I was surprised to see the crowd on AC buses too.

"People have started making use of AC buses!" I wondered.

I skipped another 5 to 6 buses as all of them were filled three times the capacity.

At 9 p.m., I boarded a crowded bus, thinking to go only half the distance and travel the other half by share auto so that I could read the remaining seven pages of "Non-Serial Killer."

I bought a ticket to Navalur and vanished into the sea of passengers. I opened my mobile browser and typed in 'non-serial killer ebook.' I explored the various search results and none of them resulted in the ebook version of that book but with the Amazon link to the hardcopy.

I was carrying my laptop bag on my shoulder, and it started to ache in my neck. When I slightly adjusted my bag, it hit the nearby passenger on the nose.

"Where did you come from?" "Why can’t you remove it and hold it in your hand?" he shouted.

I looked at other passengers, and all of them were wearing their bags. So I just apologized to the passenger but did not remove my bag.

A sense of tiredness started to fill me. I longed for the door to open when the bus stopped at every bus stop, as that was the only means to get some fresh air. I was drenched in sweat, as were my fellow passengers. I was 6 stops away from Navalur.

At the next bus stop, eight new passengers boarded the bus, and I had to move towards the centre of the bus. My face reflected my dejection as I would not get any traces of air inside.

After four stops, the passenger seated near me prepared to get down and got up from the seat. I was neither happy nor sad, but confused. Anyhow, I occupied the seat and experienced the happiness of getting a seat on the return journey to home after work. I sighed deeply, removed my bag, and closed my eyes.

After a minute, I took out the book and directly opened the 294th page with the help of a bookmark.

"Navalur." "Come out. Those who wanted to get down at Navalur, come out," I heard the voice of the conductor.

"Will it be good if I get another ticket from here to Thiruporur?"

"Won’t he think me stupid?"

"Or is it better to go by share auto from here as planned?"

"No. Let me get a ticket to Thiruporur," I decided after facing a pile of questions in my mind.

I thought, "But I should be prepared for any question from the conductor," and grabbed out 30 rupees from my purse.

After the bus started from the Navalur bus stop, I stretched my arm in the middle of the crowd towards the conductor, saying, "One ticket for Thiruporur."

"From where did you board the bus?" the conductor asked.

"I already bought a ticket to Navalur. Now, I need one to Thiruporur," I said, wondering, "Will he understand what I said?"

The conductor did not reply, but just gave me the ticket.

"Thank God," I whispered, and quickly opened page number 294 of the book. I read that page and turned to the next page when I noticed someone placing a white cloth bag near him. It was an old man in his stained white shirt and white dhoti.

I stole a glance at him and continued reading. 

When I turned to the next page, I looked closely at the old man. He was lean and short and looked innocent. His hair, moushtache, and beard were all in white. I continued reading for a few seconds before being distracted by a question within me.

"Should I give him my seat?"

"Not necessary," I said to myself, returning to where I had left off in my reading.

I read two sentences. The old man standing nearby flashed through my mind as a picture. I closed the book and took another glance at him. The old man’s small hands were holding the bus pole. He seemed fatigued due to his age and appeared to be in his 60s.

"Should I give him my seat?"

I thought, "I will give him my seat if he requests it," and I opened the book.

But I did not read anything.

"Being a software engineer who is only 26 years old, I am tired at the end of the day. He should be returning from his daily labour job, and must be exhausted.

"Why am I thinking too much to offer him my seat?"

"Yeah, I am tired and I also need to read this book. Let me offer it to him if he asks for it." Thoughts flowed through my mind.

I looked at him, at his hands and at his legs.

"The more I am thinking, the more I am making him stand. Whatever it is, let me give him the seat," I decided.

I looked at him and asked, "Can you take my seat?"

The old man nodded and replied, with a smile, "Yes, son. I need a seat."

His response conveyed that he was badly in need of a seat. But he did not check with any seated passenger.

"A fighting attitude!" I wondered.

I gave him my seat and stood near the old man, leaning on the pole.

I looked at his innocent face, thinking, "I should have given you the seat much earlier."

One of the two passengers seated behind looked at me. His eyes were filled with guilt.

I was not proud but felt responsible. Satisfaction filled my heart.

To my surprise, the old man took a book out of his bag and started reading it.

"What's happening?" I wondered.

A smile crawled on my face.

"This is unexpected," I uttered, and felt delighted.

--------------The End ------------------

Explore RK's writings:

3 books written by RK - "மாலை மாற்று", "22 Gifts" and "The 41-minute Journey"

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