It was about 4 pm when I peeped out of the window of my flat to see if there was any rain at all as per the weather forecast. I wanted to step out for my weekend grocery shopping at Houslow. The windows were soundproof, and I wouldn’t know unless I saw what was happening outside. I was only expecting a nice romantic powdery rain but was surprised to see that it was pouring. This was the type of rain I normally would witness in Chennai between October and December every year. Having experienced severe floods there, I felt a bolt of fear run through me, seeing this intensity of the rain.
Stanwell, the place where my flat is located, is a very beautiful village in the Spelthorne district in Surrey, England. My address has this catchy line ‘Staines-Upon-Thames’ which is a market town in Northwest Surrey which is around 17 miles west of Central London and is at the confluence of the River Thames and Colne. Having been through severe floods while at Chennai and this proximity to these rivers while at Stanwell, always drives me to keep checking for flood warnings during the rainy seasons.
I peeped through the window again and to my relief, the rain had stopped completely. It was beginning to get dark outside. I quickly made my way to the bus stop after a seven minutes’ walk. The bus ‘203’ to West Hounslow was due in a few minutes. There were a few others waiting for buses at the bus stop. From a distance, anybody who saw us, would think that all of us were smokers, as each of us were letting out smoke. It was only when they got closer, they would understand that not all were actual smokers.
Two huge patches of water stood adjacent to the bus stop. It could be that this water will disappear in about half hour through the drain system, but at that moment I felt I was experiencing a road in Chennai where the water would take a long time to drain away. The vehicles that went by at good speed were splashing the water into the area inside the pavement. So, we all had to step aside and stand a little away to avoid getting wet. It was impractical to expect them to slow down as they approached this stretch of water.
This bus stop was on the high street and for all the loneliness that one would experience in Stanwell, the high street was but one big relief as one could see some human movement due to the few shops that were here. And there was the John Gibson pub opposite, that always had people hanging out.
The double decker bus ‘203’ arrived splashing up a substantial amount of water into the pavement. I seriously expected the driver to have slowed down as he was anyways going to stop the vehicle. A few of us boarded the bus and I took the steps and made it to the upper deck. I found a seat almost in the middle. The bus was a little crowded although not full yet. I had been taking this bus on weekends over the last few months to go to West Hounslow. One could always feel a small sway of the bus sideways while on the upper deck, but today that swaying was much more pronounced. And also, the way the bus stopped and took off at each bus stop was abrupt and hardly smooth. Every time it closed in at a bus stop where there was a stretch of rainwater, it splashed the rainwater such that it took the people waiting there by surprise and got them wet. At one point I was laughing at what was happening as it reminded me again of the pictures of the rainy seasons in Chennai. My focus was constant on what was happening outside, through the side windows.
It was when I looked straight, that I noticed a man with a rounded skullcap, frequently put up both his hands and look upwards and shake his head sideways. I thought he was a Muslim into some deep prayer, but his actions seemed to coincide with the jerks and sways of the bus. Since the stop where I was supposed to get off from the bus was approaching, I moved closer to the steps and took the seat behind the man. And again, his hands went up and his head shook sideways. This time he turned and making eye contact, told me in a tense mood “Whaaataa waayy thooo rideaaa busss”, and again put up his hands and shook his head sideways. It was no prayer but an act of despair. The bus jerked and came to a stop at another bus stop and took off again suddenly and swayed heavily from one side to the other. “Goodnesss… Issss thiss sommmme kindaaaa circccuuus?”, he asked again looking at me. I was laughing inside but I did not show it on the outside as every time he made eye contact with me, I nodded so as to empathize with him.
I got up as the bus stop where I had to get off was approaching. I saw the man also get up. We both took the steps and went down. The bus was still moving as he went to the spot beside the driver and expressed his disappointment. “Why theee busssss shakkking thiiiisss much”, he asked with an intense expression of both his hands. It was at that moment that the bus was taking a left turn and since his hands were free and had not held on anywhere for support, he almost lost his balance and fell backwards but I supported him from behind. “Thaank yooouu”, he said and again went beside the driver. The driver was a cool person, and he seemed to be hardly bothered about how the journey was for the people inside. He looked like an Indian. The driver kept looking at the man’s body language and kept asking him what he wanted, probably because it was difficult to hear through the glass partition that separated the driver’s cabin from where we the passengers were.
We both got off at the Great West Road bus stop. The bus took off, again splashing some water that was lying as a huge path beside the bus stop pavement. This agitated the man again. “Youuuu daaant feel youuu in sommme circussss maaaan? You soo quieeet?”, he asked looking at me. I smiled and patted his shoulder as though to convey that I also shared the same feeling. “I thinkkkk the drivvveerr from India….he ddrrrive like bulluccck caaarth”, he said with both his hands moving in full expression. “I can understand you. I also felt the same thing”, I replied, so as to calm him down. “I am Anbassa frommmmm Ethiopia. Nice thoo meett youuu.. You knaawww Ethiopia?”, he said. “Yes, I know Ethiopia. It is the place where coffee beans came from”, I replied. He was extremely happy to hear that, and he smiled. He was more relaxed now and I felt good about it too. “I am Roy from India. It was nice to meet you”, I said shaking his hand. The moment I mentioned India, a cloud of embarrassment dressed his face, and he was making an effort to smile through that awkwardness. His smile was beautiful although it exposed his yellow pyorrhea-stained teeth. We waved goodbye and parted. After walking a little ahead, I turned to see if he was still in sight. Anbassa was walking slowly, often checking if there was any vehicle that was closing in on the pavement, so that he could avoid any more water splashes. I felt that he had got into a pyschological freeze, which made him keep looking around for vehicles, even if there was hardly any water around.
These days, whenever I sit back and think about Anbassa, I end up with a smile.
