I want to write for a Magazine.
Below is an essay I wrote in first person.
As I was alone, my perplexing mind left me experiencing something tranquil, adventurous and phlegmatically courageous. I was a little numbed to pack a bag of clothes, a toothbrush as well as fruits, if I am ready to wheel Amritsar, a sacred city situated far by the border of India – Pakistan. I eradicated worldly affairs as if I had been a sufferer of a so-called trauma that was annihilating my self-esteem by curatively surviving negativity. I hit on the bed in taking irrational sleep at nine-thirty. My eyes were opened in the dawn; not willing to walk a single step to pour fresh water gushing out of the tap from the last night. The cool droplets of water I turfed in my eyes to protect the allergies and anti-bacterial cream massaged on the skin under the eye rashes. A tiring process of taking a shower was hygienic, but not moody to prickling. I had a lack of endurance for what I called a long journey of five hours to Amritsar.
The Indian Railways recruited my best friend a couple of years ago. It was quite decisive in the matter of soliciting my nice fellow to book a train ticket for me. I have heard among many people that trains are rapid in case of early reach. What I wanted was a hassle-free journey, no more boastful conversations and noises. It would be better if I joined the company of disciplined people sitting next to me throwing their invisible boomerangs of thoughts into one another. Chaos concern was splitting my mind whether I needed to choose a bus or a train. Neglection could be the priority to drag the repetition of obstructive thoughts out of the space in my conglomerated mind. After I had taken the shower, the well-dressed man stood in front of the mirror; hasty enough to run towards a path to the bus stop. The most shunning moment was to see a group of people waiting for a bus that had to be driven from the other town. The bus stopped right after me buying biscuits from a tea stall. Every other day, I put my eyesight to look upon the people aggressively fighting for the seats to be full with. This morning, a similar film I entertained myself to watch before I was too late to stand aside. An alive drama of rattling, shuffling as well as timidly denying all above the humanistic behavior sensibly; indispensably a woman took to the third-grade humiliation by two women seemingly beaten off, I felt. The desire to climb on the bus as if she accomplished Mount Everest. A woman succeeded cycled her legs over the two-way ladders and gripped the seat handle to sit consciously without fear of the conductor warning about seats not made of a metal that can’t break. She kissed the seat her right to confiscation. The rush inside frightened me to vomit. Each person was the type of gum in the form of a human chain.
The furious Bus Conductor held the driver’s shoulder and convinced him to gear the engine and run as fast as he should have been to get rid of the people not following the bus rules. People stared at the woman closing her eyes to zenith in the dream. A man shouted an abusive word vulgarly shameless to disregard a woman who had already been snoring. Men and women were thrown out because of that cowardly woman blaming them for injuring her and trampling her right foot. But I was not at all seriously shimmering. I knew that it is common to eye the people just confronting off and nobody comes ahead to mitigate the rumpus public malaises. People are wrathful all the time in public places to maintain the frowning nature of jumping into the barrel of litigating ants. They can not think of putting a full stop to the hurtful speeches misrepresenting public areas. I had seen incidents of this type before from the age of ten. It was time-consuming for me to glance at people still poking. However, they knew another bus might be late. All of them left the bus stop preferring to take seats in E rickshaw that could easily fulfill their satisfaction of comfort and symphony. Accepting defeat was not in my fortune. I sat on a dusty desk wearing my bag behind the shoulders. Sweat drenched me. The shirt was wet, rinsing sweat into water form. The handkerchief cleaned more sweat-producing on my forehead. The hot summer day brought lethargy to me. I saw not a single man – woman wandering around rectifying.
The silence replaced the elasticity of noise. In five minutes, a hawker stepped forward to sell his dry fruits. I laughed digging him falling apart on the brick floor. He lamented catching infrugal ones who could buy the whole bucket. Except, he was curiously a decent man trapped in the sweet voice that taught him to properly sell everything from unreal to unidentical eatable ruinous items. I couldn’t notice what he was exactly trying to sell benefitting him in thousands of Indian rupees, if he ably met someone showing mercy to him. Seeing him from head to toe, he seemed a wise man of thirty-three pulling his responsible burden distinguishing him as a man of morals nurturing the family in the struggle of buying daily bread for a hungry stomach.
He initiated reselling what he had wistfully by the grace of god’s blessings shadowing him to endure the hardships of life. The sweat fastened him alone facing an unconscious moment. I pitied and he agreed to my persuasion of leaving the bus stop. I didn’t want to see him breathing rapidly under the sharp sunlight that was life-taking and could cause heat stroke. My cell phone battery had leaped thirty percent of its capacity. The reason I played a game that often led to my phone creating unnecessary viruses and unbalances in other applications. I have been facing this issue since a friend of mine disadvantageously misused the settings to distract from the right order in processing the software. But, I was satisfied with the working of my phone. The blow forced me into a shrinking position because of the bacterial dust particles leaking into my eyes. The scratchy sensation felt in the left eye made me scab on the eyelids. No emotion of productiveness or lack of imagination sucked up the excitement coming from the weatherly charm. I was sitting lonely seeing a woman speeding to catch the bus, whereas not the one bus was tinkering. She was thoughtful to visit Amritsar, I supposed. I was relieved to get accompanied if she had no problem talking to me despite all this, I found her an introverted person. She might be defined as rude, dubious and a bit cunning. I capitulated making myself jubilant to interrupt with the mobile screen; nothing to be winding. This dazzling moment capriciously abdicated me flowing in the water alone not artistically relishing.
The second bus came with the horn making my ears shake. The horn was too frustrating. The hooting sound of a bus was fuzzy shaking the darkness in the whole of my mind. This could be insane someone curiously searching for peace. My backbone pain was trunked up once I sat on a comfortable fluffy seat in the bus. The time became punishable when he jumped out depleting the hunger. He was gossiping with the other drivers, hadn’t eaten the food yet and had half an hour in his circus acting. Everyone’s in wrath rebuked for being negligent in getting them late.
“When will you come and start driving, man?” I thought.
Te drivers were unreached sharing pleasure feelings with others. After that, one passenger shouted calling him to drive the bus as they were wittingly cursing politely. The driver couldn’t learn their urgency visiting at choicest destinations. He might be thinking of calling passengers not worth driving. He was forgetting responsibility within the accountable measure of time. He belched loquaciously reminding more telling fibs. Fragmented-minded people always ruckus intervening in hoaxes. I looked at him stepping like already inflated. He buried the breaks under the feet that jerked off the passengers. The key turned round and the bus engine sounded gargling. The sneezing dysfunctional scourged friction in the nose nerve and he warmed up. A handkerchief was there over his shoulder cleaning the sweat. With the right hand, he tackled the steering to move. Five adolescents were holing into the river water diving, searching round below the sediment to capture the coins sticking to the magnet holding in their hands, I could see clearly that they were desirous of grabbing valuable pots that could have mixed in the sedimentary clay.
There would be praise for showing alacrity towards swimming under the dense water which I didn’t know how fast was it flowing from the opposite side, I vapored. Now, this time turned its funny mode into the single most boring eager to enter the city as soon as I could find precious free time to visit the golden temple paying tribute there. The bus ran at its highest speed of ninety kilometers per hour. The bus driver stayed at a bus stop, for five minutes energizing himself and getting back the mind to normalize the body temperature. I tasted a delicious hamburger from a bread shop. One could eat or buy all types of foods mostly at Indian bus stops. I saw the sky overcast and clouds were bursting; smoothing to take long breaths. I remained in the high temperature, letting the sun cool off my energy level. The driver seemed pompous to click a button on the horn. The sound battered my both ears. I had taken the food in my stomach in addition. The dehydration levied me and I needed the water to end the dryness on my tongue. I bought a bottle at the nearest bus stop, and extinguished thirst in seconds. A necessity of sleep would snatch up the lost energy, therefore the time to rest the universe behind my eyes. But, the disturbing sleep was intolerant every minute by a loud discussion of two old men sitting near the window and chewing bubble gums. Good to see them speaking in a different language. The bus at the speed of fifty made my day when the dim sunlight scattered on my face. The sand flew up. The bus speed changed.
The bus driver I presumed gregariously hurried when he saw Amritsar. Petrifying situation superstitiously pretending to be blessed if I carried supernatural powers to fly high. The bus conductor restricted me not to take my head off the time a tragic incident might happen in case of the window. Terrified neck should not have been injured and I heckled the idea of even putting off my right arm. Half an hour passed bus went from the traffic to the bus stand in Amritsar. I was keenly expressive forming a distinctive personality and stood up from the seat. My swollen bottom sitting a long time on that broken seat. Finally, I landed my feet on the cement floor. I was yawning, and all of a sudden four to five E – Rickshaw drivers took my side. I chose one of them, giving thirty rupees to the driver’s hard work and dropping me outside the golden temple. I bought a piece of cloth to wrap my head. One was to follow the religious code of conduct in Sikhism. I got spiritually connected with God listening to the hymns on the premises. I sat there for an hour. At 6:30, I was out and stepped ahead to book a room in the hotel one night. The entire night, I was busy watching a documentary film on YouTube.
The next early morning, I decided to walk to another historical place in Amritsar. The place where a barbaric incident took place more than a hundred years ago. The time of British imperialism in India. A white army officer instructed the soldiers to shoot innocent people protesting against a parliamentary act. In this, the governor of Punjab was also involved and accompanied General Dyer to take action that showed the cowardly and merciless faces hidden behind the masks. The Governor was then gunshot in England. The Indian life was much reciprocated in times of British rule. The killing massacre was a genocidal action committed in April 2019 at “Jalianwala Bagh” of Amritsar. On my first visit, I was touched by tears for those who died protecting one another from bullets. Hunger made my stomach a vacuum inside. The tasty foods of Amritsar wetted my mouth full of saliva. People had come to Amritsar from several countries. I saw tourists trusting in religious beliefs.
Furthermore, many others were buying things in the market. They were loquaciously talking about the Golden Temple as a ‘Global Heritage Site’. Tones of free foods are daily cooked and served to everyone without discrimination based on caste, creed and race. According to Sikh philosophy, all humans are equal. After two days of spending my precious time in Amritsar, I suddenly received a phone call. This was when my mother gave three to four missed calls. I told her I was fine and I would talk to her after I was there back home. My mobile phone was again appearing a low battery and I had less time to travel around the city. For the day, I jaunted in the markets and experienced what people of Amritsar prefer the most in the meal. They like curd, Naan bread, chicken and more spicy dishes. I again booked a room. Now, I registered myself in the second hotel and ate street food at night. ‘Wagah Border’ is the line of control between India and Pakistan Border. I went to this area. The soldiers from both sides pleased me. They were indicating a true example of friendship and brotherhood participating in friendly drills in the gathering of people. Overall, my three days in Amritsar were transcendent. On the fourth day, I returned to my hometown on a train coach.
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