FRAGMENTS OF MY LIFE

It was the end of next hectic day and i was waiting for the bus to my hometown. Hands on my forehead and to the best of my vision, i tried to figure out the destination plate cling at the front glass of approaching bus. High pitched voice of the conductor hanging at the doorway stroke my eardrums, which means it goes to my home, according to my brain. Along with my waving hands the bus slowed down and the I saw an immature face of the driver. I thought for a sec or two whether to push myself into the bus or wait for the next one. The latter would be too difficult for me, as I loathe waiting, so I boarded the bus with a heavy heart.
Along the chanting voice of conductor at the background, the bus headed towards its destination. Baneshwor, Koteshwor, Lokanthali, Kausaltar, Sanothimi, Dhunche, bode Saraswotikhel. The conductor went on and on. Immediately after being inside the bus, I threw my eyes in search of vacant seats; luckily I got one and quickly making myself comfortable I paid attention to the conductor if he mentioned bode in his chanting. Yes he did but through Dhunche; a chill of fear went down my spine. The word Dhunche had reminded me my narrow escape when our bus somersaulted with all the passengers on the muddy newly rice planted field. I had a small head injury though all the passengers fell on me. My white college shirt was all painted green and muddy. Detaching me from my memories, the heavy music fro a nearby speaker made the driver refresh his mood. Moving the head to and fro in ht music, he kept his foot pressed on the accelerator. The driver was none other than the same conductor whom I had seen few weeks before, collecting money from the passengers. Not only him, I’ve seen many other new drivers who are immature and were conductors before. This conductor turned drivers feel proud and happy to hold the steering as if a kid getting a toy car. They even don’t get scared to speed on the bumpy road of Purano Thimi.
By the time the bus reached Koteshwor, there was not a single inch left inside the bus so that one can move. I cold see a lot of passengers standing and holding the rods with lines of sweat across their forehead on that icy cold winter evening. Few of them are requesting the driver to move on. In spite of those many passengers enough to burst the bus, the conductor went on his chanting. The process of getting off the bus continued and when it passed Gatthaghar it became a bit easy. Then here comes the bumpy road of Thimi. From the steady pace of the bus all of a sudden it moved out of track on the turning that scared almost everyone, me the most. Within a few seconds the condition was under control. I held the Front seat tight. The thrill increased when the bus reached the same spot where I had the accident. After I passed it, I got relief. By then I had reached my destination and immediately after getting off the bus, thanked god for my scary but safe journey.