The last ride…magical bus ride…really…

Bus journey 

there was boy named Atif. He used to wake up in the morning ie during dawn performed his Salaah and got ready for his school. He was 14 was actually in the 10 standard or grade. 

The bus for his school arrived took him to school and back to the home in the second shift. The bus in his route was rear and had to had two shift for safety and comfort. 

He was in the second shift (being second shifter was blessing in disguise) . The time he and their bus mates got was lit full of enjoyment , we played cricket and football with the second shifters, sometimes the girls used to join  our filthy non sense conversations, and sometimes they played quizzes with boys, sometimes they won sometimes we won. 

It was the best moments for us. This bond and trust I think is rare to build up. It was like a God blessing, like only few gets to experience. 


What was that he cherished? It’s simple and he realised after he left the school. It was sad leaving the school but the saddest was there will no bus ride. There will be no trump card players group. There will be no bhaiya that  teases the crap out who act like a douche bag. There will no “tota udh and Maina udh” there will no “someone” who reserves the seat for him. There will be no real friends who can fight for him and care for him. The bus ride was epic. He remembers some random incidents that will be funny enough to put us in hysterical laughter. Group shout after seeing the girls van passing by and many more. (I don’t want to make it too long).

During the last day of the school it was the time to leave or get detached from the umbilical cord ie was guiding through the naive in ourself.


  • It did not meant to be intense he wasnt realising it nor did every innocent minds until today he stands looking for same teachers , looking for same friends that swayed away. It’s like some mirage for him that does not exist in reality. 

The last time he stepped out of his bus the same hands popped out of the window he clapped with it but the sound of it is echoing till now. The bus sped away and vanished around the corner and he stood their for the last time on his stoppage cherishing every moment he spent till now every fights he had for the window seat etc. He walks away wiping his tears rolling down his cheeks that was hiding their with every laughter and fun for the last hour he had. 

(one thing I must say the western schooling system compared to Indian one is less strict, and I do know the manners and respect overall for the teachers and elders are beyond their comprehension. For eg, mobiles are banned in every school, so no distraction, more strict punishment, although better education are costly and poverty is the biggest problem here, I know primary education is free and lot cheaper, therefore western universities comes out better and effective. It’s just the case. Again I say primary education must be free, comment if you would like to read my view of Indian education system, I have prepared one, but need to hear your view, keeping smiling) 

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