Bus..
Half of the jaanta alighted at Marathali. There are just few men here and there. Each one waiting for their destination. Its a old rickety bus,the engine sound drowning every sound in its vicinity. The conductor is lurking around the front door. She had just made herself comfortable when suddenly a figure clad in yellowish salwaar kameez seats herself next to Anusha. Its a tiny seat, sharing one meant that they were tight on space. She doesn’t complain, its a bus one can sit…