Manjunatha and Ramesha are sitting by the side of the road waiting for the bus. The road forks into two in front and on all sides the ragi fields sway ripe in the bright afternoon. There are no other people to be seen anywhere and the peace of rural Karnataka is thick around them. They are sitting silent as if inside them they have nothing left to say. Manjunatha is slowly chewing on a blade of grass.
The fast moving dot on the road grows bigger and materializes into a car that brakes screeching to a halt.
The dust raised by the car settles slowly and silently over them. A young man with dark glasses swiftly steps out and walks closer trying to save his polished shoes from the dust.
'Bangalore ka rasta kaun sa hai?', he asks pointing towards the two roads ahead.
'Is this the way to Bangalore?', he asks in English pointing to the left turn when Manjunatha and Ramesha stare blankly at him.
'Bangalore?', he says again pointing to the road that goes straight.
Manjunatha and Ramesha cannot see where he is looking behind his dark glasses. He seems to be addressing a spot exactly halfway between them.
'Onde straight! Straaaight hogi!', says Manjunatha and within seconds, screeching, the car accelerates and speeds away, leaving more dust in its wake.
'You have traveled all over India and speak good Hindi don't you?', asks Ramesha, 'Why did you not reply to him?'.
Manjunatha smiles slowly and says nothing.
'Why didn't you ask him to take us to Bangalore? Our bus won't be here for another half an hour.'
Manjunatha continues to smile and says nothing.
'And why did you tell him to go straight? That way is at least 20 kilometers longer and very crowded near the city.'
'Did you see how fast he came and went even when he didn't know the way?', asks Manjunatha as he goes back to chewing his blade of grass. They wait silently for their slow bus.
The fast moving dot on the road grows bigger and materializes into a car that brakes screeching to a halt.
The dust raised by the car settles slowly and silently over them. A young man with dark glasses swiftly steps out and walks closer trying to save his polished shoes from the dust.
'Bangalore ka rasta kaun sa hai?', he asks pointing towards the two roads ahead.
'Is this the way to Bangalore?', he asks in English pointing to the left turn when Manjunatha and Ramesha stare blankly at him.
'Bangalore?', he says again pointing to the road that goes straight.
Manjunatha and Ramesha cannot see where he is looking behind his dark glasses. He seems to be addressing a spot exactly halfway between them.
'Onde straight! Straaaight hogi!', says Manjunatha and within seconds, screeching, the car accelerates and speeds away, leaving more dust in its wake.
'You have traveled all over India and speak good Hindi don't you?', asks Ramesha, 'Why did you not reply to him?'.
Manjunatha smiles slowly and says nothing.
'Why didn't you ask him to take us to Bangalore? Our bus won't be here for another half an hour.'
Manjunatha continues to smile and says nothing.
'And why did you tell him to go straight? That way is at least 20 kilometers longer and very crowded near the city.'
'Did you see how fast he came and went even when he didn't know the way?', asks Manjunatha as he goes back to chewing his blade of grass. They wait silently for their slow bus.
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