Some things money can't buy...

We’re busy people; busy meeting deadlines, busy calling up celebrities who refuse to take calls, busy in meetings, busy doing some of this, busy doing lots of that. We’re so busy, that we curse our cell phones for buzzing incessantly, and we cut off people who remember us and spare some time and money to call us. We’re busy running around, getting work done, chasing buses, and doing ‘important’ things. Yes, we are busy people.

I was waiting at the bus stop, pacing up and down, waiting for that damned signal to go green, so that I could get a glimpse of the God-sent bus. But, it looked like God had snoozed off and had forgotten about my bus altogether. If the heat, the feel of a sweat drop trickling down my spine and the frustration of having had to wait for almost an hour wasn’t enough to frustrate the living hell out of me, the one-inch heels and a swollen ankle post a staircase fall added to my misery. The dusk was creeping into night; it was getting darker, and the faces near me were beginning to get scarier.

I took a detour, in the hope of finding some other way of getting closer to my destination. After almost an hour of wait, I got a bus that took me halfway. Well, almost. Amidst bawling kids and sweaty people, I stood for an hour, waiting to get to the station, from where I would have to take another bus to reach the place from which hubby dearest had promised to pick me up.

“Tation, tation, tation,” yelled the conductor, and I got off, thinking I would be standing bang in from of the Secunderabad station. But then, there was no ‘tation’ around, and after taking directions from people on the road, I realised that it would take me a good 10-minute brisk walk ‘lopal’ (inside) to get to the station bus stop. So lopal I walked, from under a bridge, over a footpath with missing tiles, just to realise that the station area is creepy, with some of the creepiest creatures lurking around, waiting for a chance to brush past, make skin contact.

After all of that, I spotted a bus heading home and I ran behind it, dragging my legs that had now begun to protest. Puffing and panting I got in, and made a dash towards the last seat available. I plonked myself promptly, and looked at the other poor souls who made it late to the finishing line, grinning a sadistic grin. As the bus moved, growls from my stomach made me realise that I was starving. The burst of aroma from a roadside food joint almost forced me to jump out of the window and devour some, but I thought, never mind, home is close.

I was frustrated to the core, so much, that I just wanted to shut myself in and doze off without moving an inch, without doing the social niceties and without much talk. Just when I thought I didn’t want to see anyone’s face, my phone started buzzing. The screen said, “Shonu calling”. That’s when I realised, that I did want to see someone’s face, did want to talk. I couldn’t wait any longer. It felt like our first date, when I couldn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering around in my tummy, when the anxiety of seeing him made my cheeks go warm; when all I wanted was to see his face and hold his hand.

And when I finally got off from the bus, his warm smile, his open arms and his presence -- they made the frustration evaporate, they made the fatigue disappear. And the packetful of corn samosas in his hands -- divine!! There are some things money can't buy.

Yes, we are busy people, doing some of this and lots of that; so busy that we cut off people who remember us and spare some time and money to call us. But, at the end of a long, tiring day, it is these people that we want to rush back to, it is these people who comfort us with their soothing voices. At the end of a long day, we don’t want to shut ourselves in; we want to talk and share our experiences, because it is in being with them that we are the busiest, the happiest...