Page 63 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

“Come, please.”
I turned to Bajim. “Make a call.”
Bajim talked for a few minutes. “Let’s go, Uncle.”
Buses were all packed, so we took a taxi. We arrived at Thimphu at nightfall.
Before we dispersed, I said, “Keep this money with you, but don’t spend it.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, putting my five hundred ngultrum note inside his wallet. “I swear I won’t touch it.”
“See you tomorrow at booking,” I said. “At 9:00 am.”
“Be there on time,” he said.
Three days later, we began the eastbound journey on the LAMA TRANSPORT bus. It was a huge bus with the
new-looking exterior, but the interior parts were all rusted. The emotional roller-coaster thrilled me as romantic
music flowed across the seats. Soon everyone snored. The bus jolted and stopped. I opened my eyes. Everybody
jostled out.
“Get out, Uncle,” shouted Bajim.
But the old man beside me snored, sprawling his legs.
“Up, Agay,” I said, nudging his shoulder. “Out.”
He looked around with wide eyes. “What just happened?”
“Out,” I said and jumped over him to the door. “What happened, Bajim?”
“No idea,” he said. “The bus jolted.”
I turned to the driver. “What is going on?”
“The steering is jammed,” he said. “Don’t worry, I will fix it.” He ducked under the bus.
“Hell no,” I said, looking around the dense woods. “Now what?”
“I don’t know,” said Bajim.
“Oh, no!” said the driver. “The bearing is broken.”
“Now what?” I blurted.
“We’ll continue.”
“How?”
“It will work, but I need your help.”
“Our help?”
“I need two robust men to help me steer the wheel.”
Bajim nodded. “Shall we?”
I shook my head.
Drained face, the passengers exchanged glances but didn’t refuse.
“Hurry,” said the driver. “It’s getting late.”
Everybody got on the bus.
“You all are nuts,” I muttered as I followed them. “Lord, this isn’t happening.”
Two robust men steered the wheel on the driver’s instruction.
“Right… left… left,” he said as the bus cranked on every twist. “Now steady.”
At sharp bends, they gritted teeth. Passengers cringed and said rosaries. And sitting in the front seat was a man
limping on crutches. A survivor of a bus accident. His left leg was still plastered. Mouth agape, he leaned back to his
seat. “Stop, I won’t travel on this bus any further.”
The driver instructed his fellow helpers, eyes blinking rapidly. “Okay… steady.”
Adrenaline pulsed through me. So, I stood at the door and watched every inch the bus moved. “Is this really
happening?”
At 11:30 pm, we arrived at Trongsa.
“Attention, everybody,” said the driver. “A mechanic would mend the bus on the first morning. Report at 8:00
am.”
Bajim and I checked in at NIN-DA-KA lodge for two hundred ngultrums. We spent one hundred ngultrums for
dinner.
“How much left, Bajim?” I asked.
“All spent,” he replied.
I gaped. “How come? Where’s my money?”
“We bought tickets, remember?”
“What would we eat tomorrow?” I said, biting my bottom lip.
“We must scrimp on meals. By the next evening, we would be home.”
“What if the bus doesn’t move?”
“Pray we travel without hindrances.”
The next day, the mechanic fixed the bearing later in the evening. At 5:00 pm, we hit the road again.

63