Has anyone over here ever tried to escape from a jail? I did. I could feel my guts falling out as I ran down on the steep slope. I bet even Ben Johnson would have envied me as I escaped from my school hostel.
Contest chairperson, honorable guests & toastmasters and your highness judges I was so tensed and energised that I could feel the eggs that I had just eaten hatching inside my stomach.
I was praying frantically, asking god to do something and delay the departure of the bus. I bet even God would have been cursing me that evening, for making him so busy and listening to all my prayers, which I rarely did otherwise.
I had to reach home, to see my parents. Not only was I desperate to meet them, but I had 2 weeks of dirty clothes in my bag. Who on earth would wash it, if I couldn’t manage to get home? Whatever I was determined– I will not return to the jail – my school hostel.
Finally I reached at the bus stop. I saw the discolored, disfigured, yet my “life-saver” state roadways bus parked right in front. I thanked god and pledged to be his humble servant forever. But my problems didn’t end there.
The bus was jam-packed like the emirates toastmasters meeting. But the driver was missing. I stood at the entrance hoping for a good soul to let me in. But no one took mercy on this handsome, innocent face unlike the judges here.
I heard some one calling my name. I tried to look inside through the greased glasses of the bus. But I could only see few bald heads cracking and munching groundnuts and looking at me, mockingly. I wished –those groundnuts to give them awe full constipation.
Again I heard the same voice, and I realized it was coming from the rooftop of the bus. There sat the scientist - Dr. Sambudha Ghosh. As I passed my bag to him I felt lucky that at least I could get a place on the bus, although at the rooftop
From there I saw 2 men pleading with the bus driver to start. A lanky old man with a big mustache and a wine bottle protruding out of his trouser pocket.
Unwillingly he tried to start the bus. But failed. He tried several times and finally all the first class passengers from roof came down to give an extra push to driver’s efforts. To our luck the bus started. Everyone leapt to regain his place. He drove slowly, steadily and rather too cautiously for a drunk driver. Shivering in cold on the roof, passengers were either quite or praising the skills of the driver. I was from the quieter lot as I was praying to reach home safe and sound. And those who were praising the driver were in “high spirits”. Convincing themselves that they would reach home that, not in the hospital.
At around 9 pm Dr. Ghosh and myself got a chance to sit inside the bus, the driver and passengers welcomed us with a broad smile as if they were mocking at our scared white faces. What made me fume was the sight of a mama goat sitting on the ally of the bus. Was she more privileged than me? The journey continued; every turn the bus took came as a blessing, directly from god. Finally, I was at home sweet home. What a relief!! I am sure even God would have said the same to himself, when I thanked him at last.
Next afternoon, behind me stood my dad, on my either sides were my 2 hostel wardens and on my front was the principal of our school with a big cane in his hand. Back to the jail again!!!
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