When I travel

I like window seat. No matter wheather its a bus or a train, the window seat really fascinates me. It gives the picture of the world outside. Its not that easy to peep into every village and feel their inherent beauty. Being a window seater gives you the opportunity to have a glimpse on country side. The flora and fauna, and most importantly the people you see from the window of your bus carry lot of untold stories behind them.
I am a frequent traveller and I always used to take window seats during my journeys. As the vapours of the steaming filter coffee block my vision as I type these words, I am thinking of how I got into the habit of sitting by the window and what had made me to give up that.
Though my native is salem, I was born and brought up in temple-town of palani till i was ten years old. During those times, I used to travel with my parents to salem atleast twice a month. Its a 150 mile journey spanning for five hours. We used to start on friday evenings around 5pm. I was still a half-ticket then and so I was forbidden a seat in the bus. So I used to be in my mom`s lap. She is also a window lover. As the bus traverses through the country side, I used to ask innumerable questions.
Who lives in this hut .? Why are people washing clothes in the river side? Why some roads are left unattended? and some real tuffy like Why are some people begging?
My mom used to be patient. Many of her answers would be "Its like that".
I used to ask back "Why it is like that?".
Through the world shown by her, I picturised a portrait based on what i saw through the window.
Later when we moved to salem, I missed those window journeys. But it was not so long as i landed up in college in one another city of coimbatore. Again window journeys.. Hippie!!
Most of college friends who travelled with me those used to sleep as soon as the bus starts. Many ways it helped in creating a solitary space around me. I started loving the world which i saw through the window. The portrait was more colourful.
In the faces of people whom I see through the window i interpret untold stories. In the sunset which bathes the green fields with its golden rays I see unwritten classics. In the breeze that only window sitter can get i hear unheard melodies.
But all this was till my last journey...
Two days back I was travelling in a 1970 model tata bus (the one which had benz engine inside) from Bangalore to Hosur. The KSRTC driver was pressing the accelerator pedal upto the floor tapping out the maximum power that he can get from the age old vehicle. Having crossed the limits of bangalore, the bus was screaming ahead at a tearing pace. It was like a rolling juggrernaut. He handled the corners with the precision of an F1 driver. Sitting in the first seat I enjoyed that joy ride. Its as though playing a computer game.
Ya.. I have decided to give up my window seat for the front seat. If the window seat was a calm portrait of transendence the front seat is the transendence itself. The roaring engine, The clumsy instrument panel, An age old gear knob, uncleaned windsheild with scratches left behind by the wiper. The cars and truck that play the sport with you in the highway. Its the real thing. I am seriously thinking of taking up a job as bus driver.:)
As i finish posting this i would be taking my Maruti 800 and test its horses. Vrooom...

Auf wiedersehen.