T.O.S.S.: Trio of short stories

T.O.S.S. #1

KASHMIR 1996 I

It was late November, winter was just setting in. There used to be a 3~stop~bus~route from Pulwama to Leh. I had my leather bag strapped up with my writings stuffed in it and was waiting for the bus to arrive. No matter how well or how organized I was with my packing my brown, hard-covered, petit, antique pocket diary always used to give me horrors. First I think I have packed it then just to make sure I unpack everything and search for it everywhere only to find it in my pocket. Although I give all the troubles of my life still it plays an important part in my life.

II

The bus, at last, showed up with a mere delay of 4 hours not uncommon for The Great Indian Transportation System (sarcasm if you can spot it). Well, I acquired my preferred aisle seat by the main door. Not having much to do except for breathing in the relaxing and rejuvenating air of the mountains I dived into a much-needed nap. Hardly an hour or two had collapsed when we arrived at the next stop and the seat between me and the window was occupied by a young maiden probably in her twenties. And as my nature is seriously talkative I started a little chat with my fellow passenger.

III

She told me a very little about her but was more interested in the beauty of nature, the warmth of sunshine, the anything which did not have anything to do with the daily world. I told her a lot about me, my family, my job and my passion for writing. Amidst our chat, we arrived at the only major stop in our route. I got down to buy some refreshments and also to wait in the general waiting room as the bus was supposed to halt here for no less than an hour.

IV

I had just finished talking to my father when she came to sit by me. Once again when started our conversation. Not even a quarter had elapsed when I got a call from my reporting boss. The network deteriorated so I had to go out on the road to talk, leaving my stuff behind. I am pretty sure I spent half an hour talking to him and when I was done I heard the whistle of the bus conductor, making me dash towards the waiting room to get my backpack and then towards the bus.

V

By the time I crashed (came) in the bus, she was relaxing on the same seat. I acquired my seat and the bus started rolling. As I was munching my protein bar she asked me to open the window. I said fine but as I reached out my hand to open the window; she started shouting. Everyone turned towards me and the conductor hurriedly pulled me out of my seat. "HE TRIED TO STEAL MY PURSE!!!", she cried. It didn't take the conductor a minute to throw me and my belongings out of the bus. I felt angry, depressed, and confused at the same time. It took me ten whole minutes to regain my consciousness after which I started trudging towards the nearest motel.

VI

The cosy room was dimly lighted, with a small bed and a tiny desk alongside it. The ambience could have been quite pleasant but for the aura of despondency which inhaled me. I went to sleep cursing my life. I don't remember how long I was asleep but I woke up sometime in the noon, took my towel and went for a bath. When I returned from my shower I found the daily newspaper outside my door room. I picked it to look for crosswords, just to distract my mind elsewhere. And then my eyes fell on the headlines.

BOMB BLAST IN KASHMIR

THE BUS NO.11045 TRAVELLING FROM PULWAMA TO LEH WAS SENT UP INTO FLAMES BY A FEMALE Suicide BOMBER. THE ATTACK HAPPENED A FEW HOURS AFTER LEAVING FROM ITS SECOND STOP. GOV. OFFICIALS BLAME.....

I hurriedly searched for my pocket diary and a piece of paper fell out of it. My hands were steady when I started reading it but they began to tremble by the end:

I am sorry. By the time you find this letter, it will be too late. You are a good man. ~Anonymous

THE END