The Open Window

(1)

The road to my office went through this wonderful colony of flower-clad trees. These flowers were the first beautiful thing I saw out of the Open Window of the bus that carries me to the office everyday. This place, though not so far from my house, certainly took some extra energy and enthusiasm to visit it on a Sunday. I compulsorily took Sundays off from the heap of work that always awaited me at the office.

The extra energy and enthusiasm, however, was not altogether rare; and I found myself walking to this place on many Sundays.

The Sunday which I'll draw your attention to, was one overflowing with energy - it was my birthday!

The day broke bright and sunny. After a heavy breakfast, I started walking towards the garden. It was peak of spring and of the blossom as well.

I came to this particular crossroad and as I did everyday, I looked up to the Open Window of a bungalow at the right. I was dead bored to see the same face looking out of the Open Window - everyday, without fail I used to see this face when our office-bus stopped at the red at the crossroad. The expression on that broad face never changed - the face would never be blank, but anxiety and curiosity always filled it. I had always thought much about this mysterious face, always looking out of the Open Window-- had even thought of visiting that bungalow to quench my curiosity, but never had actually done it. Should I do it today? I wondered and again looked back to the Open Window - to my surprise, the face was not there! I almost let out a cry, and---

(2)

This had been my favourite pastime of all. To stand at the Open Window, and look outside. I saw the life moving at its pace, the weather changing when it's time for it to change. I could see everything. The life outside amused me the most. I enjoyed looking out of the Open Window. But the particular Sunday, to which I'll draw your attention to, was not altogether cheerful.

I had always observed my company bus traveling to the office - I always took the next bus, about half an hour later. And I always was surprised to find a broad face looking to me through the Open Window of the bus - the same seat, everyday! The expression never changed - it was filled with so much of curiosity and maybe, a trace of anxiety. About the work lying ahead in the office? Maybe. Then I started seeing this face even on Sundays, not regular on Sundays, though. I was curious enough to go down and ask this fellow what he found so amazing in my face, that he should always take a look at me the first thing in the morning? But I actually never did so. This Sunday I thought I should go down and ask him. I may even make a new friend, I thought. But it was not to be. I looked back to him again, with a smile on my face, and---

(3)

---and before I could realise, the big reckless truck was upon me. I glanced at the Open Window, the face was back. He smiled - and I remember - I returned the smile, and as far as I remember, it was the end of the world for me at that instant.

(4)

I should have taken care before the truck ran over me -the very instant when I remembered this experience of mine. But how could I, for I had actually seen the accident take place when I was standing at the Open Window. I wish if only I had known better not to look towards the Open Window...

(5)

Or I should have shouted a desparate warning to him, so that I could have avoided the mishap...