Speak Out

B : When unsaid-ness imprints

The bustle of the Bazaar street never ended, like eternity—metro passenger after passenger lunged; noise after noise smoked; vehicle after vehicle roared. Bo wiped her sticky brow, tapping her shoe anxiously as she waited for the usual bus to arrive. Her eyes by their own accord checked the traipsing ticking minute hand of her watch, like every five minutes.

Almost an hour has dragged past and no sign of her good ol' bus. The dry heat in the air wasn't helping either.

Did she miss the bus while she mentally drooled over the chocolate complexioned short boy at the corner? She couldn't believe her luck when there was someone else beside her who would wear the old school Bata shoes!

Or did she miss the bus while she tried to get the ball through another loop in Bounce? Needless to say, Bounce was the only game her fold back phone allowed her to play. Remainders of the games were to be bought from online shop, and with little to no allowance from her parents, she knew it was waste of time to sulk and throw a tantrum over it.

Her phone blared out loud like a trumpet with her dad's religious favorite hymn, breaking her from the train of thoughts.

Amazing grace how sweet the sound...

Sweet? More like a nuisance! She absolutely loathed the ringtone, as it made her embarrassment for existence tenfold than before. Swiftly her hand set to scour the phone from the depths of her school bag; with all other books and sweater and pencil case and millions of plastic water bottles (gifts of her dad so she stays hydrated!) she knew she was going to take an eternity to find it. And by the time she did, the entire population of the bus station had their eyes on her.

Stop staring people.

She reminded herself for the umpteenth time to put the phone on silent mode and to switch it back to general mode when she reached home. Let's say her dad wouldn't appreciate her disrespecting with the silent mode, because ever since mum left he took up all her unwanted quirks including checking Bo's phone.

"Beeeeeep" 

The sound of her bus sounded finally. Finally time for a bit of AC she mentally sighed. The ladies folks in the front swiped their cards on the ping machine before getting down. It looked like they took their sweet time in getting out . Bo miscalled her dad twice and cut as she got herself into the queue below.

"Hey! Watch it!" A tall lanky dudette with a swagger spelled jacket called out.

"Sorry!"

Bo never like being pressed in the throng either but since she liked what ifs- scenarios too much she had this what if at the moment. What if- she also said the same to another in the back and everyone says sorry and the chain continues? She shook her head with lopsided grin.

Only to see another waiting passenger looking at her with a "is she crazy" glare. Quickly Bo steered off her eyes to her shoes. Probably she was imagining it but still, her favourite Bata shoe was so much friendly than getting intimidated by random people.

The tale of her Bata shoes is the tale of her gospel.

How it called her from the depths of debris after the flood. A couple months ago, they were mysteriously greeted with an impulsive flash flood, and as luck would have it, all her uniforms and shoes sailed by for an adventure. She didn't expect Lady Fortuna to smile upon her on her daily walks through the unused alley filled with the debris. She never expected to adopt a lone pair of Bata shoes as if they were kitties! Far from it! And yet that's how they tagged along with her everywhere.

In her dictionary there is no other perfect ebony black as seen in Bata shoes.

And then she saw another pair of Bata shoes getting down the the bus.

No way! This is the second time during the whole day how these Bata kept waving her hi's everywhere!

Which was why she had to look at the owner and lo behold—

The owner was none other than—her old time bus mate. . .Anje?

Fast backward seven years when Bo was in year six while Anje was in year five. Anje, the little pig tailled junior who asked her every day to sketch something for her. Anje, the girl who was the on the same earth house as her. Anje, the girl who carried herself with a sophisticated air of elegance which was too mature for an eleven year old.

Time seemed to still for them both. (Thank you Kronos!)

To Anje's credit, she did recognize Bo too and was as awestruck as Bo.

They had a million words to speak, they knew they very well did. They couldn't help succumbing to their shock and inability to speak. It was Bo's first time being mocked by the suddenness of the time with such a big momentum. Anje the present resembled so much to the Anje of Year five even though she had grown much taller. Way taller than Bo.

But at the end of the day Anje had a metro to catch and so did Bo. And the next moment Bo knew was she was swiping her card and sitting at the window seat, watching Anje's disappearing back through the metro station.

Bo didn't have Anje's number or anything. It's not like Bo could search her name up on Facebook either cause there'd be far too many Anje's in this world. But not the Anje of the year five.

Bo decided, Bata shoes were indeed a sign of good omen. As years pass on Bo knew she wouldn't remember Anje of the present by the bus encounter or her physical profile or her astonished face but would remember her by the good ol Bata shoes.

Perhaps some words unsaid were an uncanny treasure to remember. 

Word Count : 998