THE WITCH NEXT DOOR

EPISODE 31

Previously :-

In the beginning, I was afraid suspecting any danger that might be caused by the horrible speed at which the bus was running. But after some time I was accustomed to it. Not only that, I must frankly say that the speed was giving me some amount of intoxication. I got a seat by the window. So I could easily see things on one side of the road. On each side of the road there were thousands of trees of various kinds so close to one another that their shadows covered the entire road. It seemed to me that all those trees, houses, fences and other things that stood on each side of the road were all moving backward. I could not look at anything for long. But that was no regret of mine . Taking a mere birds eye view of many things at a time, especially of natural scenery, gives much pleasure.

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All the way I enjoyed my time. There was natural scenery; there was music as well as songs. All seemed very interesting to me because seldom had I taken such a journey before.

We reached our destination at 2 p.m. On reaching Bagerhat, I though I would find a seat by the window of the other side during our return journey. Many vehicles are the invention of modern science. The bus is one of the gifts of science. Nowadays, a bus journey is an enjoyable and comfortable experience. It is always a pleasure for human beings.

We live in the port city of Chittagong. Nowadays we feel bored in the noisy atmosphere of the town. We want to enjoy the pleasures for a while and we have decided to spend a weekend in a pleasant surrounding for a change. One of my friends proposed to us to go to Cox’s Bazar for the pleasure trip.

We four friends, with the permission of our guardians, booked ourselves for the trip. On the fixed day, we reached the bus terminal at 7 a.m. The bus would start there at 7.30 a.m. The passengers were limited. We got comfortable seats. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The time was the summer vacation. The weather of the day was suitable for our journey. The bus started punctually. We crossed the Shankha Bridge’. Then our bus began to run through rural areas. We enjoyed the charming scenery of the paddy fields in the country-side. The bus ran at a stretch without stopping for about two hours. Then it stopped at Amirabad. There was a restaurant by the wayside. We took some light tiffin and all the passengers also took their tiffin. Then the bus started again at full speed. Sometimes we had pleasant talks with our fellow passengers. There were several passengers of our age. They sat beside us. Some of the passengers were sleeping and some of them were busy reading newspapers or magazines. But the natural beauty was so attractive and charming that I could not turn (take) my eyes away from it.

At about 11.30 a.m. we reached our destination, Cox’s Bazar. The bus finally stopped. We got down from the bus. The Bay of Bengal and the beautiful sea-beach came into view.

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Thus our journey by bus came to an end. To me, that journey is an unforgettable experience in my life. In fact, it was a pleasant and enjoyable journey for me. It will remain ever fresh in my memory. Bus is a wonderful invention of science and technology. On many an occasion, I made a journey by bus. The journey I am going to describe is an exceptional oneWith the signal, the bus started slowly, I kept casting my eyes at the things through the window. The zigzag road runs through the villages up to Isapura, my destination, and the bus ran along it at a speed of not less than 30 km per hour. The trees, houses, fields, markets and all seemed to be running backward . .

When the bus was on the bridge, the houses below it looked little. Many land vehicles were running along the rugged road from the opposite direction. The bus, where was loaded with mostly unknown passengers. The hawkers in the bus attracted the passengers’ attention towards their hawking goods. Some passengers bought goods from them. With a very dramatic art, each hawker appeared before the passengers. I could not help buying two pieces of chocolates.

When the bus stopped at the stoppages, a few hawkers were hawking goods. They flattered many lady passengers with a dramatic shouting. I saw many things outside the bus. I saw men and women working together in the field. Children and young boys were seen bathing, swimming and playing hide and trick in the water. Cowboys were tending cattle. The day was sunny. The whole field was full of green grains. I saw a brick-field beside the road through which the bus was goingunning. So far as I could collect data that all passenger

Suddenly the bus stopped and the driver got down. To our surprise, we looked through the window. There was a small gathering of the crowd a little far ahead. I went there with some other passengers. I saw a capsized truck beside the road and à dead body lying mashed on the heap of blood. He was a van puller. The scene was very heart-rending.

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When our driver found a scope he drove the bus. The bus went on running towards its destination. The bus took a turn to the left. We saw a vast potato field around us. The green leaves of potatoes looked greener. It charmed us very much. The bus crossed the potato field and there was our destination journey by bus is both interesting and pleasing. It is not so costly. It is the speedy vehicle on the land. People can go to their goals so easily by bus. It is a blessing of science. However, the impact of the journey will remain ever fresh in my mind. I sat beside a window and was looking outside. The sun was rising with all its splendid beauty. Within an hour our bus began running leaving the urban areas at a high speed along the road with green fields on both sides. I was looking at the houses, trees, and meadows through the window with a cheerful mind. Things came to my vision and vanished in the twinkling of an eye. Everything on either side seemed running swiftly to the opposite direction. When the bus was running through the forest of 'Modular gear', the tall trees with green leaves gave a nice view.

I was really charmed at the green beauties of Nature. It filled my heart with great Joy. The bus ran continuously for three hours. It then stopped at a place named Plash. There was a restaurant by the roadside. We got down from the bus and had light refreshments there. One of the most memorable bus experiences in my life happened when I was in fifth grade. The final bell at school had rung, so I sprinted out to the bus with a few of my friends to save seats since our bus was always crowded. After we flung our backpacks into the four back seats, we ran back inside the school to buy some Mountain Dew from the pop machine in the cafeteria. After jamming our quarters into the machine and snatching the cans out of the bin, we sprinted back outside to make sure we did not miss the bus. It was still there, in all its yellow glory, so we hurried through the doors and onto the bus.

It had been wet and cloudy since that morning--a typical Oregon day--and as I made my way to the back of the bus, the faint smell of rain mingled with the rubbery-plastic smell of hundreds of little rain boots. When I finally got to my seat, I was rather unnerved to find that not only was someone sitting in my seat, but that that someone was none other than Nathaniel Larson, the most obnoxious kid in the 5th grade. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .