Packed
like Sardines
By
Sadia Wali
Its 8.00 am. I hurriedly collect my “luggage"
and wait for my minivan to pick me up for the office. As it stops near my
house, I am astounded when I open the door. Six girls are already crowded, and
I am the seventh one among them who is struggling to fit in any place available
in the van. There is no room to breathe.
During traffic jam, the driver puts frequent brakes
and with sudden jerks begins to drive again at full speed. It seems that he was
once a roller coaster driver! Many times, my head gets bumped against the
windows and roof of the van. I look around the van and see all the girls
rubbing their heads and elbows. The dead reckoning drive compels us to hold our
breaths, as we make effort to regain our consciousness.
During the
drive, I try to remain hydrated and vigilant while my other colleagues pass
time in engaging in different activities. Three girls sit beside me. One is a
broker; she continuously talks on her cell phone regarding her sales work. The other one yawns and would go into deep
sleep dreaming as if she is travelling in a lavish car with great protocol. The
pretty girl opposite me is always busy with her make up kit either making her
hair style or applying various creams to look extra ordinary beautiful. The other
one is an architect she draws sketches all the time. The last one is a
passionate singer, she sings to herself and when she gets bored, she asks the
van driver to play fast beat songs. The driver eagerly pays heeds to her plea.
Suddenly the power speakers at the back of my head blew so fast that I felt my
ear hole has got ruptured. If there would have been anyone else in my place, she
would have thrown that disastrous thing out of the window. Alas! I had to bear
this too.
As the destination towards our offices comes near,
the seven of us begin to collect our bags which were spread underneath our
seats. We have different locations so I am the last one to be dropped at my
office. My clothes are badly wrinkled and it seems as if I took them out
directly from the washing machine. I begin to feel I should also keep a small
handy iron to press my clothes as I reach office.
At last I reach my dear office after a
one-and-a-half-hour journey with shaking and trembling legs. It takes ten to
twenty minutes to refresh myself and start my day’s tasks.
When the day ends, I begin to have a horror of
experiencing this tormenting journey again as we all hope to reach our home
safely. It is always a risk travelling in evening rush hour traffic. I hope
today the minivan does not hit a rickshaw or a truck, like it often does, and
we dreadfully fall on one another inside the van. One frightful incident was
when the driver hit the footpath and the steering wheel came out!
While on my way to work and home, I feel as if we
are packed like sardines in a can. The
irony here is that we are not fish, we are human beings that are packed in a
tin.
The van is terribly crowded but this alarming
journey makes us laugh and enjoy and share our grief. Singing songs, enjoying,
eating samosas and golgappas, celebrating birthdays and taking selfie are some
cherished moments which we have enjoyed the most. It might be the reason that
we have become used to this terrible journey and might continue with it!
"....I feel as if we are packed like sardines in a can." like the comparison
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