Madam Rides the Bus

Valli was eight and very curious. With no playmates on her street, her favourite pastime was standing in the front doorway watching the street. The bus that passed each hour between her village and the nearest town was her greatest joy.

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. The most fascinating thing was the bus that travelled between her village and the nearest town each hour - a source of unending joy.

Day after day Valli watched the bus until a wish grew into an overwhelming desire: she wanted to ride it, even once. She listened to neighbours' talk and asked discreet questions. The town was six miles away; fare thirty paise one way; journey forty-five minutes. She could go and return for sixty paise.

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 an overwhelming desire. Over many days she listened carefully to conversations and asked discreet questions. The town was six miles away. The fare was thirty paise one way - a fortune to her. The trip took forty-five minutes. If she stayed in her seat and paid another thirty paise, she could return on the same bus.

One spring afternoon Valli shouted 'Stop the bus!' and raised her hand commandingly. She paid thirty paise and refused the conductor's help. The jolly conductor called her 'madam' and gave her a front seat. Valli was shy but proud.

One fine spring day, as the afternoon bus was leaving the village, a small voice shouted, 'Stop the bus! Stop the bus!' Valli showed her coins and said she simply had to go to town. She refused help: 'I can get on by myself.' The jolly conductor joked, 'Oh, please don't be angry, my fine madam,' and made way for her. There were only six or seven passengers, all laughing. Valli walked quickly to a seat, overcome with shyness.

Valli stood on the seat to see over the canvas blind. Outside were canals, palm trees, green fields, and blue sky. An old man called her a child; she replied haughtily that she had paid thirty paise like everyone else. She found the elderly woman beside her repulsive and refused to chat.

The bus was new, painted white with green stripes. Valli devoured everything with her eyes, then stood on the seat and peered over the blind. On one side was a canal, palm trees, grassland, mountains, and sky; on the other, acres of green fields. An elderly man told her to sit down; she said haughtily, 'I've paid my thirty paise like everyone else.' The conductor called her a 'grown-up madam.' An elderly woman with ugly earrings sat beside her; Valli found her repulsive and answered curtly that she could take care of herself.

Valli had thriftily saved sixty paise, resisting peppermints and toys - even the merry-go-round at the fair. She slipped out during her mother's afternoon nap between one and four, using those hours for her 'excursions.'

Her first journey needed careful planning. She had thriftily saved stray coins, resisting every temptation to buy peppermints, toys, balloons, and the like. At the village fair she stifled a strong desire to ride the merry-go-round even though she had the money. She saved sixty paise. Every day after lunch her mother napped from about one to four, and Valli used these hours for excursions - today for her first trip outside the village.

Valli clapped with glee when a young cow ran in front of the bus and the driver honked in vain. She laughed until tears came. At the town she stayed on the bus, paid another thirty paise, and refused the conductor's offer of a free drink - she had no extra money and would not accept charity.

Suddenly Valli clapped with glee as a young cow ran fast in the middle of the road. The more the driver honked, the faster it galloped. Valli laughed until there were tears in her eyes. The bus passed a railroad crossing and a busy shopping street. At the town everyone got off except Valli. She paid another thirty paise for the return trip, saying she just felt like a bus ride. She refused to get down or take a drink, even when the conductor offered to treat her.

On the return journey Valli saw the same young cow lying dead by the road, legs spreadeagled, blood on its body. Her joy vanished. She no longer looked out of the window and sat glued to her seat until she reached home at three forty.

On the way back Valli greeted the sights with the same excitement - until she saw a young cow lying dead by the roadside, struck by some fast-moving vehicle. 'Isn't that the same cow that ran in front of the bus?' she asked. The conductor nodded. The lovable creature now looked horrible. The memory haunted her, dampening her enthusiasm. She no longer wanted to look out the window.

Valli jumped down, ran home, and found her mother awake, chatting with a talkative aunt. When the aunt asked where she had been, Valli only smiled. Her mother spoke about how many things happen without our knowledge; Valli agreed quietly, keeping her adventure secret.

At three forty the bus reached her village. Valli said to the conductor, 'Well, sir, I hope to see you again,' laughed, and ran straight home. Her mother was awake, talking to an aunt from South Street. 'Where have you been?' the aunt asked casually. Valli just smiled. Her mother said, 'So many things happen without our knowledge... even when we do know, we often can't understand completely.' Valli breathed, 'Oh, yes!' but did not explain. She smiled to herself - there wasn't much chance the adults would understand.