The two bookish boys

I was so surprised to see the two young boys, who were sitting in the seat next to mine, reading books. Instead of listening to music or playing games in their mobile sets, they had buried their faces into the cream colour papers of the books. Immediately, I felt ashamed of myself for not having any book with me at that moment. If I had to introduce myself to them, I wouldn’t tell them that I was an MA in English literature and that I was a teacher of English.

The night bus was measuring its distance swiftly along the winding hilly road of Naubise. I was feeling sick as usual because of the dizzying speed and monotonous purring of the bus engine. I opened my eyes only when the driver jammed hard on the brake to control the speed. It happened frequently. As soon as my eyes opened they directed their focus on the boys. They were reading the books! The boy on my side was reading The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. It was the book I had enjoyed very much reading two years before. If I were free I would like to read the book again. Suddenly, a feeling of jealousy arose in my heart for the boys. But I would close my eyes again and meditate on various other issues to avoid the feeling of sickness. I don’t know when I fell asleep sitting erect in my seat.

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‘Let’s go for tea and snacks.’

The bus conductor screamed aloud in the bus and the passengers made noises of getting up. My short nap was over. With other passengers, I got off the bus and rushed to the place behind the motel where we (passengers) were supposed to urinate.

It took a while for me to refresh myself. I had washed my face at a tap nearby. Then, I went to the motel counter to order breakfast. I had to wait for a while before the waiter would serve me the breakfast of my choice. The hot noodles with soup. I had to wait for a while before the waiter finally served it to me.

Photo source: www.geishablog.com

The two young boys, well-clad in jeans and T-shirt, who were wearing sports shoes, were sitting at another table waiting for breakfast that they had already ordered for. They were still carrying books in their hands. But each of them was carrying a cigarette between the index and the middle fingers of his right hand. The smoke was wafting over their heads. They looked as if they were college students who had been out to celebrate their holidays and enjoy the liberty away from home. By their faces, they looked like teenagers. The most disgusting thing about them was that they were frequently uttering vulgar words.

After breakfast, all the passengers, including I, got on the bus again. The bus took its momentum in a while. But this time my eyes didn’t turn to the boys. They were no more interested in them.