While coming and returning from ACJ to my home, I look and hear and perhaps internalise some of the huge variety of stimuli that bombard us. When i walk on the road, i see beggars going up to people at the bus stop. As I come to the stop, I can see the beggar. She is an old haggard woman, bald and stooping down, bearing the burden of her misfortune. It is the same beggar everyday and different beggars are present at various bus stops. Maybe they have got their territories strictly demarcated, like the Mafia. It makes sense as each is then assured of a fixed income each day which will then be shared by the beggar and her family, if she has any. Most people here actually give her something, which is unlike what I saw in Delhi or Mumbai or Kolkata. in Delhi people are downright rude, sometimes slapping the hapless beggar or abusing them or make fun of them. In Chennai, you can feel the politeness even before you speak, in the way the people talk and behave. I see the same in Kolkata.

I get into the bus. It is overcrowded with people jamming the door as there is no space inside to even stand. I manage to get on the second stairs and stand there for sometime. It is not that bad as it might appear, as at this place, I can atleast feel the cool breeze that is like a constant and loving companion to the evening. But i have to get further inside as people wanting to get down and enter will be shoving and pushing along. I feel like a cutlet inside two slices of bread which is then pressed inside a sandwitch maker.

well i stand this way, sweating profusely as I drift momentarily to the population and its problems. The crowd here is a direct manifestation of that. I cant think for too long as someone says something in Tamil, which i do not understand. I correctly guess that he wants me to go further inside. I don't want to and indicate, half extending my hand, that he is free to venture in. He stares and then is gone, vanished in the teeming sea of commuters. Is travelling this way and ordeal? Not really but unpleasant, yes. The people sitting in the two rows of thin cushioned seats stare outside, blankly ahead or back at you. I want to know what they are thinking. Perhaps they are reflecting on the day gone by, or planning for dinner, or thinking of their spouse or children or just reflecting on the vagaries of life, analysing their failures and cursing their situation. Or maybe some are contended, happy with where they are having done their best and looking forward to meeting their families.

I am thinking about dinner and where should I have that. The bus lurches forward after as the traffic light turns green and i am almost thrown on a woman standing right next to me. She looks back, disapprovingly as if i had flung myself on her deliberately. Sandwitched as I am, i am holding on to a iron bar on the top and the seat handle of a passenger who is really lucky as he has got a seat. The seated people hardly ever get up. I guess they go from one end to the other. And this route is so busy that people must have occupied all seats as on the first stop itself. The bus remains crowded as I reach my destination. This is unnerving dude! and it is terrible when the bus stops to pick passengers or at traffic lights. Within that sea of humidity, the breeze is like the only saving grace. Without it, I get drowned in a sweaty sea. My T shirt clings to my back, wet as if it hs been washed. As I try to get down, i encounter blockades as people. I say let me get down and they move slowly but definitely to one side.I get down, and an let out a deep sigh of relief.

I cross the road as a bike honks past like a machine possessed, and walk down the pavement leading to my apartment. On the sides are small shops crowded together, an assortment of general stores, cheap eateries and a solitary saloon. There are slums around this area and people residing there are the primary customers of these shops. I cross one pavement and the row of shops disappears, leaving an open expanse of space as a ten storey apartment block looms large. I live on the ninth floor.