There are several underpasses in the Canal Bank Road. I know only nine, and for some unfathomable reason, I seem to have memorised all their names. But that is beside the point.
If you take the bus every morning, and find yourself on that road at half six, you will be forced to observe every little detail every single morning. It doesn’t matter wethar or not you want to, but the fact remains: it is impossible to sleep on that bus, hence you rely on your observations to keep you amused and, well, awake.
However, it is a completely different experience in a car. A smooth ride, noiseless, peaceful, no sudden jolts attempting to disintegrate your vertebrae. You could sleep if you want. When you pass through an underpass, there isn’t much of a spectacle. Just another bend in the road, though downwards.
On a bus, though, it is quite an event. Keep in mind, the windows of the bus are always open, unless there is a particularly difficult passenger who insists to torture all those other people who were not fortunate enough to get a window seat. Along with the
not-so fresh air and dirt and toxic fumes that come in, there is, also, a whole lot of NOISE. Not just the traffic outside: motorbikes, tractors, trucks, cars, rickshaws, vans, wagons(yes in the early mornings all these vehicles are allowed too). But also the constant sound of the bus itself, its engine roaring consistently, never letting you forget you are in a bus. However, on the road, these noises are an open environment. Spreading out in all directions. Nothing specified, no collectivity.However, passing through an underpass is a quite different story. The sounds, now confined for a moment of time within the walls, reflect back and provide you with a collective impact. Bouncing back, they combine at the epicentre: that instant in which your bus passes through the centre of the underpass. For a brief second, (that is, if you are awake), you experience a strange sensation. A sensation that I could never truly justify with mere words. A combination of frequencies that were never meant to be combined. And if you overthink it like I do, you shall experience a weird sort of contentment. As if the universe revealed some of its secrets to you.You want to stop right there. Stop time itself to live an eternity in what is a split second. Perhaps because you dread the monotony of “routine”. Perhaps. But you know. You know.That you must venture into the journey beyond.
This would’ve been better suited had the prompt been “overthinking about petty things” rather than The Journey Beyond. But oh well. Heh.