We have learnt to live with terror everyday. Warnings posted about unidentified bags and looking under our seats for lurking danger do not send a shiver up our spines anymore.
They used to once upon a time. Especially when we were small town girls visiting the big bad city Delhi.
Somewhere in the late 80s, on a mild winter afternoon, my friend Poonam and I landed in Jaipur bus station on her scooty to buy tickets to Delhi. The announcements were everywhere. On the walls, through the loudspeakers, we were urged to look at all with suspicion for our own safety.
Tickets bought, we returned to board our vehicle. Just in time to see a suspicious character lurking around it. With our bravest 'dont mess with us' looks we walked towards the scooty. To our horror, we saw attached to it- a dirty cloth bag. We looked around trying to obey the instructions we heard earlier but the policemen were absent and those were not the cell phone days. Moreover, Poonam had to fight the eternal battle between being a brave mom or a cowardly reporter. She had her little girl waiting for her at home and every moment was precious. So we gingerly unhooked the bag from the scooty and in one long swaying movement threw it into the bushes waiting for the bang. Nothing happened.
In the meantime, the suspicious character who had become an interested observer ( also the terrorist in our minds!) raised the alarm . Bomb! Bomb! Not wanting to be a part of this even if meant being heroes, Poonam fiddled around with the key. Then turned around in horror! Even this seems to have been fiddled with she declared.
We stepped away from the scooty expecting it to explode and in doing so bumped into an identical one behind me. I looked at Poonam and she looked at me sheepishly. We knew who the miscreants were. Us!
We scrambled on to the scooty( the right one!) and were away in no time. I have often wondered if the owner of the bag found the it and if she/he did, was Mr. Nuisance around to explain? I guess I will never know.
