Perfect blend of dark it was. The bluntness of the situation was way too emotionally depressing. Standing amidst many sleep deprived people made the situation even worse. The bus was said to arrive at eleven thirty as portrayed by the timing boards put up in the Tiruchy bus stand. Little mention was given about the tolerance level of the timings. Government buses should prefer giving a tolerance of plus five hours, preferably at night hours. The negative could of no chance be a concern. Prostitutes at work were finding their soul mates for that night. My crackerjack figure I guess kept those women away from me.

The busy city was withdrawing its vigor as time progressed fast. People in the bus stand casually started dissolving. My bus was yet to barge in. Coffee always injected a deep sense of gusto within me, for a reason unknown. I moved towards the coffee shop which had sexy posters of heroines put up at the bottom of the walls. For a moment or two, enjoying the curves and gossips in those posters I embossed my voice for a cup of coffee.

“Fourteen rupees” said the guy who stood inside

I gave the change he asked for. There was no one around to intrude the silence of the atmosphere. I took the cup in my hand and shifted towards the place where I sat before. I felt a strange connect behind me; it felt like some air at first that was hitting my neck. The void ambiance was the reason I thought and moved. Looking down I observed there was a shadow behind that was trying to seize my body. I recognized the innocence of its walk. I was afraid to look back. It was pressing towards me. I turned back with a sensation that could have killed my senses.

What I heard stopped my mental plight for a minute. “Do you want an AC bus to Chennai? Just four fifty” the voice said before I could turn back.

In a bid to respond to his unearthly query “No. I have booked my ticket to Vellore. The bus is yet to arrive” I said with frustration and relief, both racing into my blood with force.

As he moved, I took my seat in the bus stand that carried the sweat of my butt for the past three hours. The watch showed five past two. The conference went smooth and my company should be proud of my effort I thought. I was the sole person who managed to get through the process to attend the seminar that could add a very great applaud to my profile. Bizarre thoughts began to dwell, as my eyes started to feel its vagueness. Half through the sleep process that occupied my domain, a strong light flashed in front of my face. The horn sound woke the tired part that was losing its way into peace. I re-fluxed my muscles to get up.

Finally the much anticipated property of the government agreed to find its place three hours later than its prevalent time. Picking my small luggage, I moved towards the bus that looked very strange at that point of time. It looked like some force was deliberately withholding its structure.

I went towards the door. As I neared, the door slung open towards me in an abrupt manner. It could have hurt, but my reflex was quick enough to engage my hands into motion.

“I guess the bus has reached earlier than its timing” I winked at the conductor.

As he reviewed my ticket, “Show me you’re ID card. It’s late already because of a gang war near Madurai. Caste and religion turn people into unimaginable morons.” he said and checked my ID as it was booked online.

I did the required. When do we learn to be broad-minded? I thought about the gang fight near Madurai; as I placed my baggage at the top I found my seat near the window. It was 13, the seat number. An old man wheezing hard was near me. He was fast asleep like most of the others. He looked like he had been deprived of proper care for the past ten years. His wallet which looked as old as he was fell from his pocket to the side of his seat. I left the wallet in its place and got accustomed to the seat to drive its position to get a sound sleep. I saw the passengers at my back, one or two tuning songs in their smart phones the rest were all hovering between sleep and messages from their dear ones.

I switched my mind to lodge in peace and slowly my eyes contracted firmly. The bus moved roughly on the Indian roads that suffered from rain and improper maintenance. Once in a while the lights of the toll booths illuminated over my face. Half an hour and sleep preoccupied my senses madly.

When the subconscious mind was attaining its pleasure, soft hands touched my shoulder later during that night. I mechanized my eyes to open up, to find out what the old man wanted. I looked at the watch to see that it was nearing four. The bus was halting in the midst of a road shielded on either side with dark. I turned left towards him to ask of how he could be helped.

The sight of what I saw pierced my heart in horror. He was not there; his purse was lying in the same place. I looked back. No one was around. Again when I looked near, I froze.

She was piercing her own tattoo on her hand with a sharp metal, which I couldn't guess what it was. The deadly sight plucked my soul within. I was afraid to look. Who was she?

“Why did you do that?” she questioned me. Blood was per-fusing on her thighs. Half-dead, I picked my courage to initiate a conversation.

As she constantly kept asking the same question, she slashed the metal deep into her nerves. She made it a loop.

“Who are you? Where is the old man near me? What happened to the co-passengers?”I lined up my questions randomly that came to my mind. The purse soaked itself in blood.

“Is that very much of your concern?”

“It is and it should” I said.

She limped down and laughed wildly. Her name was perceptible on her hands on which she was piercing the metal. The blood covered the tattoo, but the name was evident. I wanted it to be a dream, realizing that it wasn't.

“Sins are meant to be rewritten positively” She shouted. I dint get what she said. Her voice was dominating.

“Sin? Shit.” She was in her sixties, had a perfect structure and looked younger for her age. The swell in her skin and color tone of her body seemed paranormal.

“So you’re the perfect men. Is that what you mean?”

She wiped the blood that dropped down her eyes. Her look was intimidating my nervousness.

“That tattoo, is that your name?”

“It is and it should”

I was angry. Suddenly she held my hands with impact. I couldn't refuse. She dragged me down the bus. I was in no mood to appear in tomorrow’s papers as a death victim to a ghostly activity. So I followed her, with thoughts profusely fighting within my mind.

All the people have disappeared. The conductor laid there dead.

“What is happening to me?” I asked myself with resentment.

“Let’s go. You need to know who you are.”

Even souls hinder the daily livelihood of people, I thought. The irony of life always throws surprises at us. This time the surprise was huge enough to kill me. I was the last one to be killed.

“Death is deadly. You should understand this. Every life has a value and I am going to take yours to balance the living cycle” her resonance in voice vibrated inside me.

We came down the bus. The bus was standing near a bridge. The flowing waters sounded loudly and the silence was giving a deadly synchronization to the situation. She caught my hand; the blood from her hands flowed over mine. It was ugly.

She made me ascend on the walls of the bridge facing the waters. My guess was absolutely wrong. She too climbed the walls.

“Things are going to be alright” she said. Contrary to what her lips uttered, she withheld my hands and jumped. Death was in its way.

As the waters took us inside, I began to lose my consciousness. The last few seconds that I managed to hold, portrayed many visuals that seemed delicate and impractical. The line of demarcation that stood between what I visualized and the outside world seemed of no connect and my mind cataloged the happenings of the last few seconds.

Gradually the colorless nature of the water initiated to change and I was swimming to death in a pool of blood. There was blood everywhere. I was searching for the woman, who brought me here. Everything seemed to be an abstract of everyday living. As it pulled me inside, my legs touched against soft skin. I swiftly turned against the force of the water and pushed my head forward. I saw animals that were jeering in pain. I saw people mourning for their beloved. Caste prone people were fighting amongst themselves.

Guys were molesting girls. Different things appeared as I progressed through the last second. My last conscious second was felt. Before my eyes could close, the sight of something locked my breath. There were little dolls around. I realized that they were infants. It was becoming tedious to count the number of babies. None of their eyes were open. They did'nt see me. I saw one such child close to my sight, when I closed my eyes forever. The cells of my body were settling down. They were merging with death. As I was literally losing myself, a mammoth sound of a tap against metal was felt at the side. The vibration through which I was going made me agitated. My hands felt some leather. It was the purse of the old man.  Fighting with faith, I opened my eyes with heaps of difficulty. I saw the old man sleeping. It was a dream. I looked around if I could find the old woman who preoccupied my senses. She was nowhere. I came back to life.

In a quick reflex, unknowingly I pushed the wallet to the bottom. Picking it up, I opened the purse to keep the change that spilled. What I saw gave me the second dreadful surprise for that day.

Shakhty, the woman with the tattoo was smiling at me. She was his wife. Possibly she should have died years before, I presumed.

I took my mobile. It showed four thirty. I unlocked the keypad and dialed the number. The ring was heard so loud in my heart.

“Hello” I said.

“Aren't u asleep Akshay?” my wife's voice came to my savior. She was sad.

“Let’s have the child Aiysha”

“Uhh? What?" My wife was shocked. I wanted to get established before having the child. My wife considered having the child instead of killing it.

“You mean so much to me. Let’s not abort our first child. Our world would also include our child’s presence. ” I said. Her voice resonated in unimaginable happiness. 

Not only religion and caste make people narrow minded; sometimes education too does sarcastically.

Her smile was enough to interpret how happy she was.

“Love you” she said.

As I imagined about my little child, I cut her call and slept.