THERE was a girl named Valliammai who was called Valli for short.
She was eight years old and very curious about things.
Her favourite pastime was standing in the front doorway of her house, watching what was happening in the street outside.
There were no playmates of her own age on her street, and this was about all she had to do.
But for Valli, standing at the front door was every bit as enjoyable as any of the elaborate games other children played.
Watching the street gave her many new unusual experiences.
The most fascinating thing of all was the bus that travelled between her village and the nearest town.
It passed through her street each hour, once going to the town and once coming back.
The sight of the bus, filled each time with a new set of passengers, was a source of unending joy for Valli.
Day after day she watched the bus, and gradually a tiny wish crept into her head and grew there: she wanted to ride on that bus, even if just once.
This wish became stronger and stronger, until it was an overwhelming desire.
Valli would stare wistfully at the people who got on or off the bus when it stopped at the street corner.
Their faces would kindle in her longings, dreams, and hopes.
If one of her friends happened to ride the bus and tried to describe the sights of the town to her, Valli would be too jealous to listen and would shout, in English: “Proud!
proud!”
Neither she nor her friends really understood the meaning of the word, but they used it often as a slang expression of disapproval.
Over many days and months Valli listened carefully to conversations between her neighbours and people who regularly used the bus, and she also asked a few discreet questions here and there.
This way she picked up various small details about the bus journey.
The town was six miles from her village.
The fare was thirty paise one way — “which is almost nothing at all,” she heard one well-dressed man say, but to Valli, who scarcely saw that much money from one month to the next, it seemed a fortune.
The trip to the town took forty-five minutes.
On reaching town, if she stayed in her seat and paid another thirty paise, she could return home on the same bus.
This meant that she could take the one-o’clock afternoon bus, reach the town at one forty-five, and be back home by about two forty-five...
On and on went her thoughts as she calculated and recalculated, planned and replanned.
Well, one fine spring day the afternoon bus was just on the point of leaving the village and turning into the main highway when a small voice was heard shouting: “Stop the bus!
Stop the bus!”
And a tiny hand was raised commandingly.
The bus slowed down to a crawl, and the conductor, sticking his head out the door, said, “Hurry then!
Tell whoever it is to come quickly.”
“It’s me,” shouted Valli.
“I’m the one who has to get on.”
By now the bus had come to a stop, and the conductor said, “Oh, really!
You don’t say so!”
“Yes, I simply have to go to town,” said Valli, still standing outside the bus, “and here’s my money.”
She showed him some coins.
“Okay, okay, but first you must get on the bus,” said the conductor, and he stretched out a hand to help her up.
“Never mind,” she said, “I can get on by myself.
You don’t have to help me.”
The conductor was a jolly sort, fond of joking.
“Oh, please don’t be angry with me, my fine madam,” he said.
“Here, have a seat right up there in front.
Everybody move aside please — make way for madam.”
It was the slack time of day, and there were only six or seven passengers on the bus. |
They were all looking at Valli and laughing with the conductor.
Valli was overcome with shyness.
A few mints later she would overcome her shyness and begin to look around her.
The bus started, and again there were the same wonderful sights.
Valli was excited.
She stood up on the seat and peered over the blind stretch of road.
It was a narrow road.
There were green fields on either side, and the occasional trees broke the monotony.
Suddenly the bus hit a cow that had been sitting in the middle of the road.
The poor cow was thrown a few feet, moaning and twitching, blood pouring from its nose and mouth.
Valli, who had been in the middle of a burst of excitement, suddenly became quiet.
She sat down again, without uttering a word.
After the bus had travelled a few more miles, they reached the town.
The conductor asked Valli whether she was planning to get down and have a look at the town.
But she answered firmly, “No, I would rather stay in my seat.”
They waited for a while, and then the bus started again on the return trip.
As the bus rode back to the village, Valli was lost in thought.
She did not laugh or smile anymore.
When they finally reached her village, Valli got down from the bus and went straight home.
Once inside, she found her mother awake.
She was talking to one of their neighbours.
Her mother asked her where she had been all afternoon.
Valli did not tell her mother the truth.
Instead, she simply said that she had been watching everything that was happening outside.
Her mother responded in her usual way: “What is there to see in our street?
Everything is always the same.”
Valli smiled to herself.
She knew better.
Valli smiled to herself.
She knew better.
But she did not say anything.
Just then, her mother’s voice interrupted her thoughts: “Where have you been, Valli?”
Valli, still smiling, answered: “Just watching the street outside, Amma.”
Her mother and aunt went on with their conversation, oblivious to the little girl’s adventure.
The aunt was a real chatterbox and kept going on and on about everything under the sun.
At one point, Valli’s mother said, “So many things happen in the world outside, and we can’t always understand everything, can we?”
Valli nodded her head wisely.
“Yes,” she agreed.
“What’s that?”
asked her mother.
“Oh, I was just agreeing with you, Amma.”
Her mother looked puzzled for a moment, but then she let it go.
“She’s just a little girl,” said the aunt, “but look how she tries to act like a grown-up!”
Valli smiled to herself once again.
After all, what did they know of the wonderful things she had just seen and experienced?
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