Daily Times

Translated by Fazal Baloch

The bus was jiggling ahead on a bumpy road. It was past midnight and most of the passengers had either drifted off to sleep or they were dozing off on their seats. Lost in deep thoughts, he was the only passenger other than the driver awake on the bus.

Some scattered lights were flickering in the distance. But it was not obvious if they were lamps glowing in the houses nearby or stars twinkling in the distant sky.

The bus had covered a long distance when an unexpected drizzle with no flash and thunder started to sprinkle on the ground.

“Press the accelerator Ustad! The river of Thunk still lies ahead”, yelled the conductor from the last row. Heavy-eyed passengers yawned and rubbed their eyes to catch a view of the rain through the window in the dark and eventually went back to sleep. But sound of the raindrops was barely perceptible amid the rattling of the moving bus and the music blaring from the speakers. But he was sure that raindrops would be washing off the tire tracks behind. The very thought brought him a sense of relief. The city had left far behind and so had his fear.

Suddenly the driver pulled the brake and his heart skipped a beat. But instead of soldiers, two men embarked on the bus. One was a bespectacled man, dressed in white, holding a small briefcase. The other one had worn a green scarf on his head. He looked like a peasant or a camel-driver.

The conductor walked up to him and requested him, “there is no vacant seat on the bus, and these two have an urgency, please let one of them take the empty seat beside you for a little while”.

“I have reserved both the seats because I don’t feel comfortable to have someone seated beside me” he replied bluntly.

“Sir we are going to get down after a short distance, it would be kind of you if you allow the ‘Sir’ to sit beside you for a moment”. Before the conductor say something the peasant-like man entreated him.

He lifted up his bag and placed it right before his feet and the peasant strolled to the last row and took the very seat which was occupied by the conductor earlier.

The man who sat beside him looked a smart one. In the shimmering lights his face looked pale-yellow. He had soaked himself a bit in the rain. From his briefcase he assumed that he was a doctor. Country doctors usually carry such briefcases. He kept looking through the window in such a way as if he was not going to say anything in the rest of the journey. The doctor took out the packet from his pocket and offered him a cigarette. He lit another one for himself.

“A moment earlier when we were in the rain I was wondering that man is terribly helpless against nature”. The doctor was a soft spoken man. He looked at the doctor but did not say anything. “Man’s relation with fellow human beings is quite enigmatic. A while earlier when we were not on the bus we had our own individual destiny but now we all the passengers share the same destiny. If the bus overturns into a canyon, we would all die. If it’s struck by a fault we would all bear it’s burnt. And if it reaches safe and sound we would all get to our destinations happily. Our life, destiny and fear overlap with each other’s”.

“But I am not afraid of anything at all” he sputtered.

“I am not talking about you alone”, the doctor curved his lips and puffed out a ring of smoke in the air.

“But to look it contrary, I am wrong. Whether we are onboard or not, our life and death are our own. If the bus overturns, every passenger on board is not necessarily going to die. May be some of us sustain injuries. Some may have their limbs fractured. And some may not even get a scratch on their body. But we all wish to see the bus reach its destination smoothly and we disembark unharmed because fear of death is pouring inside us like rain”.

“But as I told you earlier I am not afraid of anything at all”, he blurted out.

“Everybody fears death. You too. When grappled with fear of death, a man always sputters like you”. The doctor billowed out another cloud of smoke. “Our dreams and desire in life are more or less the same”. After keeping quiet for a while, he said, “it is the very fear that I avoid traveling on bus at night. “I fear the moment I shut my eyes, the bus will plunge into a gorge. Thus I cannot sleep on the bus. I don’t know how you feel like. “I am also afraid of darkness”, said the doctor and extracted another cigarette but without lighting it, he just held it between his fingers.

“Man fears nothing but death. No matter he dies of an accident or cardiac arrest or cancer. At times I wonder that people who lack prowess to face life, actually cease to exist. I reckon God would never seize the life of a man who lives for a cause. I have seen death from very close”.

“Have you seen it closer than I have”? He asked the doctor in a hushed voice.

“What do you mean”? The doctor flipped the cigarette but soon discovered it was unlit. He extended him the very cigarette.

“I have killed my wife”, he lit the cigarette and took a long puff at it. “My pregnant wife. My beloved wife. Doctor! Have you seen death closer than I have?” He questioned the doctor.

“The pregnant wife…..but why did you kill your pregnant wife”? Doctor’s voice was trembling.

“Because the child in her womb was not mine’. He looked at the doctor with bewilderment.

In the very moment, the peasant yelled from the last row:

“Driver please stop the bus, we are going to get down here”.

His hand trembled and some ashes fell on his clothes. “Doctor, please don’t leave me alone on the bus, he whispered, I am afraid”, he urged the doctor.

The peasant drew close to them and said, “let’s go doctor we have reached our destination”.

The doctor held his briefcase and told him, “this man’s wife is in severe labour pain. There is no doctor in their village and he covered twenty kilometers to get to me. In this battle of life and death, I will try my best to see the life standing victorious”.

This is the translated version of a Balochi short story by Sharaf Shad

Published in Daily Times, June 11^th 2018.