Abhay's Bhay

The morning chill is jarring. I shuffle from foot to foot trying to keep myself warm, waiting for the bus to arrive. I straighten my back and move my neck side to side trying to work the aches out. It doesn’t help much. More and more people join the waiting group, mist escaping their yawning mouths, some rubbing their eyes through gloved hands. I blow into my hands and cup my nose, the cold air is unforgiving. My watch tells me its 6:32am. From the distance I see headlights piercing the morning fog. The waiting group comes alive and starts queueing up. I get on the bus and grab a seat in the front. I miss the comfort of my bed and dread the classes I have to attend today as the bus fills up. The last passenger that gets on is holding a baby.

The bus gets moving. I offer my seat to the lady with the baby and stand in her place. She thanks me profusely while taking my seat and gently rocks the child in her arms. Streets pass, bus stops and goes as it lets people on and off. I notice most of the people I’m surrounded with have their faces buried in their phones. Some have their heads lulling, trying to reclaim some of the sleep that life’s responsibilities stole from them. Usually I’m both of these people. Today I feel too tired to do anything but stand. I notice the baby staring at me. Its big eyes piercing holes in my head, its tiny gloved hands holding a stuffed toy. I wonder what a baby thinks about.

As a former baby, I have no recollection of what I was doing on day to day in my infant years. All I remember is that I was surrounded by people who loved me and not all of them were lying. The world seemed like a scary place growing up. It still is. Childhood for me was just a constant feeling of being lost and trying to figure out my way, pretending to know what I’m doing. That’s what I do today. The baby gives me a toothless grin. I smile back at it as I get off the bus making my way to class.

School is a commitment. I sit in the back of my classes as professors come and go, talking about their materials and the importance of discipline or something. I agree with them but I’m struggling to keep my thoughts focused. While the class chatters around, I continue to open and close the same two applications on my phone. My attention is dwindling, I’m aware of it. Awareness doesn’t help, but somehow makes me feel like ‘I should know better’. I put my phone away and decide to grab a warm beverage. Life is bursting in the cafeteria. I queue up and people watch. In the booth far back, I see two guys holding hands and laughing louder. Clearly in love. Their eyes never leaving each others and their laughter full of life.

I walk back to the class sipping my drink, thinking about the societal conventions of partnership and love. As the professor talks about his material, I realize ‘love and companionship’ is more of a societal observation that has morphed into an expectation. Life is overwhelming. To live and process everything that life throws at us is challenging. That is why we seek love to be seen and we seek companionship to share some of this load of being alive. Yet people judge. Judge others for being alone. Whisper there must be something wrong with you without any context of your life. These whispers creep into your head and make you question yourself. People’s voices do not matter. What matters is what we think of ourselves. I wonder what the infant from the bus will do with its adolescence.

The weather is more forgiving in the evening. I get off the bus a stop earlier and decide to walk through the cemetery on my way home. Naked trees sway gently. Snow covers the ground where grass used to be, the headstones capped with generous amounts of it. After a few moments I see a couple holding hands facing towards a gravestone. Walking closer I notice the white of their hair poking out of their winter hats, a walker just behind one of them, the tenderness of their embrace. The fragility of the moment makes my heart ache. I avert my eyes and quicken my pace. Walking into my home all I can think about is the couple. Who were they visiting? Was it a parent? A peer? A sibling? A child? I sit and stare at the ceiling.

I’ve always considered myself an old soul but the truth is I am still young. I do not know what I’ll end up doing with my life because the future is uncertain. But I know what makes me happy and what I’d like to do. Still I spend my time wondering and day-dreaming about what could be. Everyone is living a life that is their own journey. I am in my own. I grab my guitar, always in front of the eyes yet still forgotten. Tuning the cords I see different parts of my life that I can fine tune as well. A strike a cord and a smile spreads. A journey begins with the first step. It’s time for me to enjoy the journey even though I’m unsure of the destination.