America was about to celebrate its independence day when I found myself on the second last seat of the red public bus. Mom and dad were there too but not with me. Mom was with herself and dad was with her holding her as close to him possible. The interior of the bus had turned intense orange due to the sunlight that got diffracted from the huge windows. As the bus travelled, shadows from the trees played an important role to the kaleidoscopic people inside. There was a boy of similar age as mine, playing on a video game competing against his dad turn by turn, a huge man carrying lots of vegetables and a big moustache with him who was saying something to me with his eyebrows, an elderly man who almost had me crushed against the seat with the help of his tummy when he had to get down, a student who was trying read his scribbled notebook and finally my mom and dad. There were a lot many other monochromatic people too. I could count the number of potholes on the route just by looking at dad. I got a worm’s eye view of mom’s pain and dad’s distress as I sat on the second last seat, with my right side resting against the brownish back rest and my legs touching the metallic floor although it weren’t that long. She was weeping, almost. I wanted to help but didn’t know how to. I didn’t even come to know when our stop arrived and we had to get down. I am sure it would have been the longest transportation time for my family.
She was allowed to sit on the bus stand by replacing some people when dad went to look for an automobile that could transport us to the hospital although it was not that far. This time, time slowed down for me. Mom did not miss the opportunity of pointing out those seven to nine school boys of a bit higher age than who were deliberately smoking on the middle of a bus stand. With quite a same or a bit higher amount of deliberation, I promised her of never developing an addiction to it; neither had I planned to ever. I could feel the Captain Planet inside me getting to action as I had to take ultimate care of my mom and the guest. I so wanted my dad to get Mr. Flintstones’ car. It would have allowed us to take mom with as much hurry as we were in.
“Is this a hospital”? I asked myself, and “Is this the hospital”? I asked mom as we entered the huge grand white building and stopped beside another white vehicle. “Oh yeah!”, my left brain said to my right one as I noticed the mirror image of the word “Ambulance” on it as I could relate it to my text book. Unfortunately, it did not make me smile as the baby would smile in that film.
I grew up and I have a sister eight years younger to me.
I am happy, and her name is 'Khushi' (happiness).
