THE SCHOOL BUS

Eldos High School, situated at the heart of Trivandrum city, shimmered golden in the scintillating rays of the early morning sun. The giant iron gate at its entrance let out a disturbing shriek, shattering the loud silence of the dawn. He let out a sigh as he closed the gate and walked to the school building.

Every day one man comes first in the Eldos High School early morning, and everybody knew who he was. The school bus driver Rajan never failed to break this unique custom except for Sundays. He comes as early as five in the morning and checks on his bus. Rajan had three kids – a son, a daughter, and a bus. And he loved his third one the most. Not surprising at all, considering he spends half a day with the bus. A yellow ATA Star bus with a maximum capacity of 40 people. Not too big, not too small. But it was old. Perhaps older than its siblings.

Rajan approached the building and turned left to the garage. It’s been his daily routine for ten years. And he hadn’t taken a single day off. Even on Sundays, he would peep into the school compound as he walked by the school gate.

“Your kid is okay there,” the security guard would tease him. “Give Sree some privacy, at least on Sundays! He has grown up.”

Sreenath was the name of his bus, and he called him Sree. Everybody called him Sree.

Rajan approached the bus and ran his fingers over the front grill. It was warm and dusty.

“Time for your bath,” said Rajan, smiling. He took hold of the green hose and sprayed water all over his body. Before long, Sree sparkled like a newborn baby, shining golden in the sunshine. It’s only then the other drivers and staff would start coming through the gate.

Soon Rajan found himself on the driver’s seat. He patted on the steering wheel in excitement. The wheel and the seat had a unique aroma—like the aroma of an old book that never ceases to lose interest. He looked back, his eyes searching for his staff. A young staff named Sunil assisted him in picking up the kids.

“Brother, you look more excited than usual,” asked Sunil as soon as he got onto the bus.

Rajan smiled. “It’s my birthday today. Maybe that’s why.”

Sunil was excited. “That calls for a treat, you know. I am going to tell the kids!”

“For heaven’s sake, Sunil! I am a grown man. I haven’t celebrated my birthday for ages. Birthday is just a normal day for me.”

“Whatever, let’s go,” Sunil frowned. “It’s almost six now.”

Rajan twisted the key to fire up the engine. But after a rumbling noise, the engine shut down. He tried again, but it ended up with the same result.

“That’s strange,” Rajan murmured. “He never had any starting trouble.”

“Isn’t today your birthday? Maybe Sree wants some father-son alone time,” Sunil laughed. Rajan gave him a stern look and twisted the key. This time Sree woke up. He let out a vroom of pride and joy. Soon they found themselves out of the school compound.

Rajan circled the Gandhi Park and proceeded to pick up the kids. Soon the bus became a hub of laughter and fuss. Most of the kids in his route were little and curious ones.

“Keep your voice down,” Sunil would often caution. But he was seldom cared. No wonder that his calm commands weren’t heard in a hustle of thirty noisy kids. However, Rajan always liked this loud ambience inside the bus. The kids in third and fourth grade would play behind his seat. Rajan would smile as I looked at the gearbox in wonder. It’s not the gear handle that amused them but the sight through the thorn leather covering under it. They could see the road rushing under them like an array of grey lines.

“Such curious kids! I wonder what is so curious down there,” Rajan thought in wonder. Childhood is a period of curiosity where we ask questions ourselves. The rest of the life we keep finding answers sometimes bumping on them.

Each of the kids had nicknames mostly given by Rajan. He taunted them often by those names. The kids teased his bus and him by calling the duo Rajasree. They admired Sree very much as Rajan did.

The moment Sunil disclosed Rajan’s birthday, the kids rushed onto the driver’s cabin so fast and so much that Rajan had to literally stop the bus. Seeing those little innocent faces, Rajan couldn’t deny the demand for a treat. He got down instantly and brought them toffees from a nearby shop. A sudden rush of happiness passed through his heart in doing so. It’s the happiest birthday he ever had.

While tasting his toffee, Rajan felt something special—like he had tasted something similar before. He couldn’t remember it, but it was delicious—more delicious than this toffee. Yet both smelled the same.

#

Rajan reached home after the evening trip.

“I will make some tea,” his wife Gita said coldly. The exact same words she told him yesterday and the day before. The house hadn’t heard anything but mechanical talks for years.

“Where are the kids?” he asked eagerly.

“They are in their rooms, with their phones, of course.”

No surprise. They hardly leave their rooms ever since they got their own phones. With earphones and Bluetooth speakers, the phones made a lovely and lively world for them. They even take the food to their rooms. It’s been months since they dined together at one table. The rooms were full of laughter and music, but the house wasn’t.

“My birthday is just a normal day inside this house,” he thought. “Dull and boring as ever.”

Obviously, his kids had forgotten the special day. If Rajan had a Facebook account, they would surely be reminded of his birthday. Unfortunately, he didn’t have one. So March 23^rd is just a normal day for them.

But March 23^rd wasn’t going to end like a typical day for him or anyone else.

That night, when he turned on the news, some extraordinary headline caught his attention.

‘Government of Kerala has imposed a state-wide lockdown for two weeks.’

The government was compelled to take such a decision to contain the growing cases of the covid pandemic. A terrible news! People to be confined inside their houses, in fear of a tiny virus!

Behind him, Gita stood frozen.

“It’s only temporary, right?” She uttered in dismay. “You still get wages for these weeks?”

Rajan didn’t answer. He wasn’t listening to his wife. His mind delved into something more important to him.

I would miss Sree for two whole weeks. I can’t even peek into the compound to see him. He would be all dusty and dirty after those weeks…

His thoughts went on, his eyes ceasing to see everything in front of him.

That night Rajan couldn’t sleep. Sunil’s words reverberated in his ears. He lay in his bed, his mind back in the school garage.

Somehow he knew. He wanted to be with him for a bit longer. I had been a fool. Only if I had known!

#

The following day, Rajan woke up early as usual. He yawned and proceeded to do his morning rituals. Only when he washed his face that he came back to his senses.

I can’t go out. No school today. No driving today. Nothing normal today.

It was a completely new experience for him. When the school had a holiday, nobody saw Rajan in the house. He would be seen roaming around the school, busy in the shopping malls for nothing.

“I feel so odd today,” Rajan told his wife. “Let me take a bath.”

“Of course, you do!” Gita said with contempt. “Now you get to know how we feel trapped inside this house.”

Gita was right. She spent most of her time inside the house. Perhaps the word ‘asphyxiated’ would be more accurate. That wasn’t the case when they married. For the first two or years of their marriage, they roamed all the significant locations in the district. Gradually, it all begun to go down after their son was born. By the time of their daughter’s birth, the custom vanished into thin air.

Now Rajan had the time to think about something other than his job. His thoughts entered into the family affairs after a long interval. Expenses had gone up. His salary wouldn’t catch up with it for long.

Fed up with boredom, he began roaming around the house. The wall paint had started to blacken, revealing the age of the house. So many switches weren’t working. The fans produced disturbing creaks on turning on. The dining table had been limping to one side. The rusty door locks and the termite-stricken wooden windows made the house an easy target for burglary.

He had never noticed them in his life. He thought, “Indeed, I had been a fool.”

“I have never seen you so astonished before,” Gita commented on his reaction.

“We need to renovate this house. It’s so bad in shape!” Rajan remarked.

“Ha! I had told you so many times before,” Gita raised her voice. “But you never listened. Always you and your stupid bus!”

“I’m so sorry,” his tone bustled with mockery. “But that stupid bus has been giving us a decent income all these years!”

“Yeah, but you treat it like your son. I have never seen you love your son as much.”

“Perhaps you are right. I love my bus,” Rajan replied. “But I love my kids too. You just can’t see it.” He was upset about being crucified in the name of love.

“You must understand something,” Gita stepped forwards, staring at him with fire in her eyes. “That bus isn’t yours. It’s not your child. It’s not your family. WE ARE YOUR FAMILY! Don’t forget to live for us as you do for that bus.”

Gita had been shouting as she said that. She had let out her deep worries and distress that had been buried for so long.

Silence lurked in the room after the outburst. Rajan looked at her in wonder. He could feel something melting inside his ribcage. In front of him stood Gita, beautiful and elegant as ever, in her bridal saree. He was in the wedding hall, and they both were smiling at each other, dreaming about a life together forever.

When did I lose all this happiness? When did I forget to look at her and smile? He wondered.

Rajan stepped forward and hugged her. He needed it. She needed it. It’s been so long.

“Yes, Gita, I know,” Rajan muttered softly. “My eyes had been closed towards my family. I’m sorry. But can you consider Sree not with contempt but just like one of us? Because it’s all my fault. I promise you that I’ll make it up to you as soon as the lockdown is over.”

Gita forced herself deeper into the warmth of his chest. She seemed to be in a trance.

“I will,” she told as she held him closer, “I missed this so much…so much.”

#

The day went quite well until the night. The couple talked a lot and together swam in the sea of old memories. It seemed like they were married just recently. Indeed, they had now rekindled and reinforced the rusted chains of the bond.

It’s true that the change in parents reflects in their children. Their children Ravi and Rekha, stared at them in wonder. They even pinched each other to check if the sight was real. Then soon, they found themselves pulled out of their isolated caves to join with their parents. Now the house saw the family—the whole family. Maybe lockdown isn’t so cruel as it seems.

The night brought a piece of terrible news to the family. This time the government of India imposed a nationwide lockdown for 21 days owing to the covid pandemic. Three weeks—Almost a month.

The bright ambience in the hall gave way to a grim one. They were all worried. Gita worried about her husband’s job. The children worried about their studies. And Rajan about his bus.

It’s not just about missing Sree that concerned him. It’s about his well-being. His engine and parts would get damaged if not given proper care. Rajan had to do something.

#

It’s been a month since the first lockdown. The lockdown was extended again for 21 days. Rajan had phoned the school to find about his job and wages. No matter how many times he called, the answer was the same.

“We will discuss it and inform our decision as soon as possible.”

No real answer. No due date. Like the proclamations during the British Raj period.

When asked about the bus, they gave no satisfactory reply. Amidst the covid pandemic, they obviously had more grave issues to address. A small old bus was not a matter of importance. Neither was a driver.

But what could he do? He had to wait more and more.

And the day came. The first instant the Government relaxed some restrictions, Rajan rushed to the school. To his utter dismay, he saw his favourite child dusty and dirty in the shed.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” Rajan embraced his kid. He could think no more and wasted no time in washing him. He changed the oil and checked the engines. His work on the bus continued unhindered until an office staff him. Subsequently, Rajan was called to the office.

“I understand your situation,” said the manager, with a sigh, “But you can’t just come here without being called.”

“Look, all classes are online now. So no bus service is needed,” added the manager. “The covid patients are still on the rise, so the lockdown would likely be extended again.”

“Which means?”

“You won’t be coming back soon.”

“Sir, my wages…,” Rajan stammered. “How about some remuneration? I have been working here for ten years now.”

“We will discuss about it soon, Rajan.”

The conversation ended with the expected phrase. No wonder.

Coming out of the office, Rajan grasped the harsh truth. He had no job.

No more trips. He can’t see those innocent smiles, those curious looks. And he had lost his precious child. His legs got him mechanically to the gate. He turned back once and looked at Sreenath. His eyes reflected sorrow and helplessness. Rajan waved at him for the first and last time.

A tiny stream of water came down from the edge of his headlight.

He had only memories—the blissful memories. But now they aren’t.

#

If depression had been contagious, Gita wouldn’t have to suffer this much. Without any protest, she would have accepted to share her husband’s depression instead of seeing him in such a pathetic state. Rajan barely spoke and eat these days. He was so emaciated that his cheekbones bulged out beneath the skin. She had never seen him sleeping properly for weeks. Despite her constant pleas, he wouldn’t go to a doctor.

Gita reminded him of the decreasing provisions left in the house. He sat on the sofa, his head low and his eyes down on the floor. Gita sat across the couch, facing him.

“We don’t have enough rice and vegetables for a week!” Gita repeated.

No response.

“The kids are asking for tuition fee. They also need an internet connection to attend online classes,” Gita’s face grew grave. “We need to take a loan at least.”

Still no response. But one word from her statement caught his attention – classes.

Classes… Kids…the toffee…that taste. He remembered that day.

“How dare you ignore these serious issues? Don’t you even care—” she stopped abruptly. She caught a glimpse of something remarkable. Rajan was looking at her, his head high. There was a sparkle in his eyes—a speck of hope.

“I need to cook,” he stated, rather to himself. He had to do something. Now he knows what it is.

#

“Welcome to Lockdown Diaries,” the news reporter spoke out in his usual charm.

“When the covid pandemic imprisoned us in a cage, nobody anticipated the cage would last so long. Days turned to weeks and then into months. As a result, many birds fell down tired, and many perished. But there are some who emerged from the aviary like a phoenix, transforming these unfortunate times into a big fortune. With us, we have one such phoenix bird, Mr. Rajan Ravindran, who was once a school bus driver. He lost his job due to the covid pandemic. But now he is the owner of the prestigious ‘Rajan sweets’. Please share your story, Mr. Rajan.”

Rajan stepped forward as the reporter gave him a mic. He looked at the cameras confidently.

“It was a tough time,” said Rajan, clearing his throat, “I went into depression after I lost my job. I had no means of income. I searched for jobs but couldn’t get any thanks to the pandemic again. It seemed everything was going against us.”

Rajan paused. “That’s when I rediscovered my long-lost passion—cooking sweets. I had won some small prizes for culinary competitions in my school. Over time, I lost interest and moved into something else, and so on. I had my own special recipe for sweets, and I was confident that people would love them. So I determined to cook again.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Rajan remarked. “I had to take a loan from the bank. Had to borrow provisions from neighbours and friends. The risk was big, but it was the last resort. Didn’t know it would be such a big hit, to be honest!”

His lips curved to a sweet smile. His body and mind sounded rejuvenated. Everybody around felt a wave of freshness and hope emanating from him.

“So long you have been delivering sweets straight from your home,” the reporter stated. “So the next obvious step would be to set up a bakery, I presume.”

“That’s a good idea,” Rajan commented exuberantly. “But no. The lockdown has very few restrictions now. So I plan to start a food truck. Hence I bought a bus.”

He turned right and looked at the bus in his compound. Sree stood there with all his glory, repainted and renovated. Approaching the bus, he brushed his fingers against the grill.

“You have and always will be providing your family,” Rajan whispered softly.

A stream of water flowed down from his headlight. This time it reflected a different blend of emotion.     

By Jesmal Jalal

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