The Busride

Somya Mittal
Technews Writer
Mon Aug 27, 2018

As the bus passes through town 

There’s so much to be seen 

People milling about here and there 

People trying to live out their dreams 


So I lean onto the window, 

Pen in hand 

Lose myself in thoughts 

And for the first time, actually notice the land 


There’s a woman on the other side 

Her hands, frail and thin 

She drags along tattered clothes and begs for money 

As people walk past, declaring her a sin 


A man swaggers into the bus at the next stop 

Behind him, trail two children, maybe five and seven 

His eyes promise retribution for the lack of alcohol 

And the youngest slowly whispers, ‘please take me to heaven’ 


The bus screeches to a stop 

And all of us are thrown forward by the motion 

As the Muslim woman’s hijab falls 

There is, suddenly, commotion 


Snapping out of my observations 

I glance down at the pen in my hands 

Shake my head with a smile 

As some things, words cannot comprehend 


So I pick up the hijab and hand it to her 

Write down a helpline number on a note and slide it over with my phone to the children 

Walk out of the bus 

And treat the elderly woman with enough food to fill an entire cauldron 


Because the world will always be what we make of it 

Maybe it’ll be happier and maybe it’ll turn to World War 3 

But at the end of it all 

The world will be exactly what you choose to see 




Appears in
2018 - Fall - Issue 1