By Namrata Sinha
20 June, 2017


My heart skipped a beat every time I saw another “Accident-Prone Area, Drive Safe” board on the way. Sitting on the very first seat of a city bus, which looked like it was at least a hundred years old, I imagined what my obituary would look like. I wasn’t sure what it’d say but it had to end with something like “she was too young to leave us.”

I’ve always boasted of my fearlessness. If I were in a horror movie, I’d be that brave (read stupid) person who hears voices at 3 am, yells “who’s there?” multiple times, goes out to investigate, gets stabbed in the heart and dies.

Left hand on the steering and a cigarette in the right, the bus driver drove this fragile vehicle as if it was a Formula One car, the bus roared and creaked in response. At times he’d leave the steering wheel altogether to light another smoke, take deep drags and then continued doing what he did best- shout cuss words at anyone who dared cross his way.

They say one can never be truly happy but to them I say when that death ride came to an end, at that particular moment of my nineteen years old life, I was truly and completely happy. I got down thanking my lucky stars as the driver lit another cigarette.