The conversation

It was one chilly January  in 2014 when I was doing temporary job in National Housing Development corporation limited (NHDCL) along with my other classmates from CST.  We use to do housing survey in the morning and compile data and make building plan in the afternoon. The office hour ends at 5 pm in the evening. Since it becomes darker earlier than the summer time, I have to walk fast to the city bus parking to catch the bus. I usually don’t take taxi because it is expensive, need to pay double the fare of the bus and I have to walk about half an hour after it drops me to the nearest stop. If I have to take taxi till home, I need to pay extra fare. I didn’t want to pay extra and I also didn’t want to walk in darkness as it creeps me out. While on the other hand, the bus drops me near my home.

There will be lots of people waiting for the bus when I reach there. Sometime I don’t get place to sit but if I am lucky enough I get on other days. May be that day was quite lucky for me since I got a seat just two seats away from the door. As usual I was tired but I could not help listening to the two girls’ conversation. One of them was my junior when I was in Middle Secondary school but she didn’t recognize me.  They were perfectly dressed just like any other office goers. I wondered what they might be doing at such a tender age.

The junior girl said that she does not feel like going home since her brother in law tries to molest her. When she complains to her sister, she scolds her back.She could not go back to her parents since they were in village. And her only hope is to find a job and get away from her sister and the brother in law.There was not tears in her eyes. May be tears are not only an indication of sadness. But   the rueful face, did tell the untold.   The other girl looked at her empathically.  She did say something but I could not hear properly as the bus stopped and few passengers rushed to get out. Maybe they must have seen me staring at them because they stopped talking. I felt so sorry for my junior and I was awestruck after hearing her conversation.

She got off few stops before me and I wondered what will be waiting for her at home.  After hearing her conversation, I could not stop thinking about all those people who get molested just because they are under privileged. I have heard such stories mostly from the third person but to hear from the victim did send a chill down my spine. Question started popping up in mind. How many people are there in Thimphu city who comes to stay with their relatives, brothers and sisters?  How many are there who are going through such things?  How many are there who has to put pretentious face every day to escape from such harsh reality?  Thimphu is not a big city but it does have its own sad and bitter face. The place where I have spent more than two decade didn’t seem friendly and clean anymore.




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