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Mundina Nildana

The conductor traverses across the length of the bus looking at his either side while feverishly clicking away his clipper to gain attention.
“Ticket Ticket” he screams.
“Banni, illi ticket?” he asks.
I wave out to him and mouth “ITPL” from a distance. He hands out a receipt to me and grabs the 50 rupee note from my hand. I try to tell him that he ought to return 3 rupees to me. My cries fall on deaf ears.
I tear the ticket in retaliation and toss it out of the window.
“Excuse me?” I hear someone faintly call out to me. “You, mister! Yes, you!” she reaches out and taps on my shoulder. I unplug my earphones to understand the matter. Blown away by her beauty, I make an effort to comprehend her words. Her mouth moves in slow motion in my imagination. She seems agitated, I can tell from the frown between her eyebrows.
“Click!” She snaps her fingers to regain my attention.
“How can you be so irresponsible?” She asks.
I shrug, not being able to understand the context.
She rolls her eyes and points to a piece of the torn ticket which manages to make its way back into the bus despite being chucked out of the window.
“Oh my bad” I mutter and quickly grab the piece only to throw it out of the window again. I see her cheeks turn into a shade of fushia from the baby pink that it was a while ago.
“I can’t believe this!” She yelps.
“You cannot litter the place! This ticket should be retained until the end of the journey and disposed off in a bin!” She reprimands me by wringling a finger furiously in my direction.
“Mundina nildana ITPL” flashes on the LED board. I carefully circle around her pointed finger to make way towards the exit door.
I leap off the bus with a smile, only to see a reflection of hers in the rear view mirror of the bus with a frowned face and crossed arms, marking an act of retaliation.


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