The Woman in a Red Dress

I had to reach Baroda by 11AM and I was waiting for the bus at Ganesh Chaukdi, Anand ['chaukadi' is a Gujarati word for road intersection]. It takes around one hour to reach Baroda from Anand. The express Gujarat State Road Transport Corporation (GSRTC) bus takes less time; around 45 minutes. The small private operated buses locally known as VITCO take more time and its last stoppage is Jakat Naka, around 4-5 Kms before the central bus station, Baroda. After getting down at the Jakat Naka stop one has to board an auto rickshaw to reach the central bus station, Baroda. Compared to GSRTC bus the private bus takes additional 30 minutes and is costlier by two times (including auto rickshaw fare). I avoid Jakat Naka buses.

An empty GSRTC bus arrived. It was going to Savli. "You can go till Vasad," said the conductor. I was not interested. Later, I was repenting. There was no bus for the next 15 minutes. Vasad is a small place but it is a junction. Buses commuting between Baroda and Kheda, Nadiad, Khambhat, Petlad do not come to Anand but all of them stop at Vasad. Express buses to Modasa, Balasinor, Rajkot do not come to Ganesh Chaukadi, Anand but stop at Vasad. In spite of a very small bus station every bus crossing Vasad stop at Vasad. Every minute there is some bus or other at Vasad. It is a busy bus station.

Suddenly, I noticed a red colored GSRTC bus turning left towards the Chikodhara Chaukadi. I read Dhaboi written on the signage board in front of the driver. I waved my hand vigorously. The bus stopped. I boarded the bus. I occupied the last but one seat on the left hand side; a two seater [GSRTC buses follow 2+3 seat pattern; two seats on the left hand side and 3 seats on the right hand side]. Getting late was on my mind. I was also preparing to read something important on my mobile. I was so much occupied that I did not notice who was sitting on the three seater on my right hand side. This three seats seat is next to the emergency door and hence there is plenty of leg space.

After some time I heard a woman's voice. She asked in Gujarati, "Is it Vasad?"

I turned right. I saw her for the first time. Only one woman was sitting on the three seater. She was sitting close to the window.She was wearing a green cotton dupatta (stole) and an abnormally long red frock that is uncommon in this area of India. She was holding a tote bag with long straps and a big plastic bag was hanging on the hook of the seat in her front.

"No, this is not Vasad but it is nearby," I responded.

I saw her closely for the first time. A woman in early sixties. She was wearing a boyish haircut. It appeared as if she applied henna in her hair. Her eyes looked different. Not the usual type but it looked light blue. She was plump. Her nose was sharp. Her color was fair. She did not look like a typical Gujarati woman and yet she spoke, the only sentence I heard, only Gujarati. She must be aware of this region else how was she able to know Vasad. Due to my own engagement I did not think much.

The bus stopped at Vasad and she got down from the bus. I looked at her repeatedly. I had a strange feeling as I always have when I come across people with schizophrenia or similar tendencies. I get an extreme sense of empathy. My maternal grandmother was schizophrenic. In 1954 on the eve of "Purna Kumbha - Full Kumbha" at Prayagraj, Uttar Pradesh she went to “Kumbha Nahaney – Kumbha Bath [Kumbha is a famous Hindu fair that is organized every 12 years on the banks of a river and taking bath during Kumbha is considered highly auspicious by the Hindus].” There was a stampede and many people died [Government reports mention 800 deaths, one of the bloodiest stampede in the history of Kumbha]. She was deeply affected by the visuals. She never recovered. Her natal home was extremely rich. In the locality, there was a rumor that her family owned so much money that they used quilts filled with rupee notes instead of cotton and they collected money with jhanga (Bhojpuri word for long broom made of pigeon pea plant. It was majorly used in the villages to collect dry leaves for fuel). Her dressing sense changed after she developed schizophrenia.

I took photos of the woman from my mobile. The bus left as quickly as it had entered the Vasad bus station.

In the hurry to reach Baroda on time and during the engagement in Baroda I completely forgot the woman. By the time my work in Baroda was completed and I reached the central bus station it was around 2 PM. I was feeling hungry and the sky was overcast. I was in a hurry to reach home. There was no bus for Anand. There was one bus for Petlad. I boarded it and requested the bus conductor, "Please give me a ticket for Vasad."

As soon as I occupied the seat the bus left. It was an express bus. The bus stopped at Jakat Naka and GSFC factory stop but it was moving at a fast speed. It crossed, Dashrath, Panoli, Nandesari and other small cities without stopping. It was drizzling outside. A very light drizzle. The bus was crossing Mahi river bridge and I recalled the woman. She must be schizophrenic, I thought. She must be still there in Vasad, I thought.

The bus with some effort of crossing huge potholes at the entrance of the Vasad bus stop entered into the bus stop and stopped suddenly with a jerk. I got down to change my bus. I saw a red bus standing on the last platform on the right hand side. I did not proceed towards the bus. I looked around. I went inside the small bus stop building. I did not see her. I thought she might have left Vasad. However, based on my past observation of the peripatetic schizophrenic people I was also confident that she might be around.

I was correct. As I came out of the bus stand building I saw the same woman in the same red dress. She was standing right in the center of the bus stopping area and was talking to herself. A person was standing nearby, aloof of her presence. In the morning she spoke only one short sentence in Gujarati and could not make out her Gujarati dialect. She was speaking in Gujarati, "The God and Allah is heaven and earth." She looked up when she said heaven and down when she mentioned earth. She also used her hands to gesticulate; pointing her index finger up when she said heaven and downwards when she mentioned earth.

I spoke in Hindi, "Which God do you pray to?"

"Just now I mentioned it," she responded in Hindi and she started speaking to herself in Gujarati and she was looking at me. I was carefully listening to her. I was trying to decipher the Gujarati dialect she was speaking. I can make out between Charotar [the region of Gujarat that includes Anand] Gujarati and Kathiawadi Gujarati dialects.

"What is your name?" I asked in Hindi.

"Akash - sky," she said and looked up.

"Where are you going?" I asked in Hindi.

"I keep moving around," she responded in Hindi making a swirl with her index finger.

Her Gujarati dialect was similar to Parsi Gujarati dialect. There was emphasis on "ta" while speaking "ketlu," which means many. She was saying that many people ask her name and are after her. She looked at me with discomfort.

I was carrying, as usual, a biscuit packet in my bag. I thought of offering the biscuit packet to her but I was scared. The phrase 'many people are after me' made me uncomfortable. I thought she might get offended. I decided to leave her alone.

A bus arrived. It was going to Tarapur through Anand. I boarded the bus. The woman was still searching for a bus for her onward journey.