To have your private taxi broken down on the side of the road is not a fun thing. Especially when it is raining cats and dogs all day. Mom and I had such bad luck one time.
Mom and I had taken a private taxi to return to our house after attending the wedding of one of our relatives. The wedding was in another town about three hours away from our house. So taking a private taxi made sense. It was an afternoon wedding, and we left the wedding hall venue at 4 p.m. We had covered about one-third of the distance when the car's engine jerked and little smoke started coming out of the engine bay. The driver was able to drive the car off the road before it completely stalled on the road's shoulder.
The driver got down and popped the hood up in the pouring rain. He quickly came back into the car. He said that the car would need to be towed. He tried calling other private taxis for us to continue our journey, but the rainy weather conditions were having an impact on the cell service. Even when I tried it on my cellphone, the cell service was not available.
We had broken down near a small Indian village. We could see a bus stop about 50 feet from where we were stranded. Few people were waiting for the bus at the bus stop. Mom told me to check if we could get any help or hire a private car from the village. The driver and I went to the bus stop and asked the people at the bus stop. The people at the bus stop were of no help, but I came to know that a bus service was available from that bus stop to our city of Meerut. The driver and I went back to the car.
As it was getting dark, Mom and I decided to take the bus service, as we did not have any additional luggage. We paid the driver half of the fare. Mom removed all her jewelry and put it in her handbag. As only the driver had the umbrella, he took Mom and me to the bus stop in two trips.
The bus arrived after 20 minutes of us waiting at the bus stop. Because of the weather, the bus was late. We got on the bus from the back door. The bus was already full. There were no seats vacant. Many people were standing in the aisle. We couldn't go to the front of the bus as more people were crowding in the front. The back of the bus was relatively less crowded, so Mom and I decided to stand there till any seat became vacant.
We paid the bus conductor the fare. I asked the bus conductor how much time it would take for the bus to reach Meerut City. He replied it could about 2 hours.
The old bus was in a dilapidated state. There was no air conditioning on the bus. The bus had two rows of bench seats with tall headrests. One row of seats could sit two people, and the driver's-side row could sit three people. The bus had two doors, one at the very front and the other at the back of the bus. The back door was in line with the second-to-last seat. The last row of the bus had six seats, but the two seats behind the door were vacant because the seats were wet. The back door of the bus did not have an actual door. So when the bus moved, the rainwater was spraying on the two seats; therefore, the seats were empty. This was also a right-hand-drive bus, as we are living in India.
Mom and I were standing near the second-last seat. All the people in the back section of the bus were males. Mom was the only woman in the back section. I looked at them, and they were all watching us as Mom and I were wearing good-looking, expensive clothes. I was wearing a maroon sherwani and white shalwar pants. It suited my 18-year-old body.
My 41-year-old mom was wearing a pink and white chiffon saree with a pink half-sleeve blouse. She had her hair tied in a bun. She looked good, and her clothing style was conservative.
The bus reached the next bus stop, and all hell broke loose. There was a crowd of people waiting at the bus stop. The people started pushing into the bus from both doors. There was a lot of pushing on the bus. Mom was standing in front of the last seat, and I was trying to shield us from the crowd from pushing us too far back on the bus.
Mom and I were barely able to keep the balance. I was leaning on Mom. I kept one hand on the back windshield of the bus and the other on the headrest of the second-to-last seat. I was facing Mom, and she was facing me. She too had one hand on the back windshield and the other hand on my shoulder for support. I was trying to use all my strength to push back the crowd and keep it from crushing us.
Mom was almost leaning on the man who was sitting in the last row's middle seat. I looked at all the guys sitting in the last row, and these guys were looking at us. They looked like factory workers, and all four of them were wearing grey uniform shirts. The guys were talking to each other in their language and laughing. It looked to me like they were talking about us.
The bus started moving, and it was getting more difficult to maintain balance. The pushing from the crowded bus, plus the jerking from the bus when it hit a pothole or just the normal braking, made standing on the bus a difficult task. More than once, Mom bumped into and almost sat on the lap of the guy who was sitting in the fourth seat on the last row.
After Mom lost her balance for the third time and fell on the lap of the fourth guy, the guy sitting in seat #2 on the row called Mom. It looked like he was giving up his seat. Mom looked relieved. He made Mom squeeze into the row. I thought since the bus was crowded, he wanted Mom to come in the row of seats and then he would give up his seat and squeeze out.
Mom squeezed into the row of seats and waited in front of him to get up, but the man in the second seat just grabbed Mom by the hips and made her sit on his lap. Mom had a shocked look on her face. She tried to get up, but the man had wrapped his arms around her body. I tried to rescue Mom, but the fourth and third guys blocked me from entering the row by using their hands as barricades. They placed their hands on the headrests in the second-to-last row.
Mom is not the confrontational type, so mom did not yell or raise her voice. She told the man, "Please let go of me."
The man replied, "It is ok, madam, the bus is very crowded; you can sit on my lap. Anyway, you will not be able to get your place back. It has already been taken."
It was true. As soon as Mom moved into the row, I got pushed and was now standing in front of the fourth guy. Mom still tried to at least stand, but the man could not let her. He had a tight grip. Mom eventually stopped struggling and just sat on the stranger's lap.
Mom is a small person in size; she is only 5 feet, and her vital statistics are 36-32-38. She is a bit chubby, and she has a fair complexion. She has good looks for a woman her age. But I never had any sexual feelings toward her before this incident.
The first guy (the window seat passenger) and the third guy had evil smiles on their faces. It was odd to see Mom sitting on a strange man's lap, but at least she was physically comfortable. I was still getting pushed by the bus crowd and had to push onto the back windshield and the second-to-last seat to keep my balance.
It was dark now outside, and there was very little light on the bus. For the first few minutes after Mom gave up struggling, it was all quiet. But then the first guy reached over and touched Mom's right breast over her saree. Mom pushed the man's hand away. The third guy then put his hand on Mom's left breast. He put his hand under the saree's pallu, so he was grabbing her breast over her blouse. Mom pushed his hand away too.
The second guy, the one on whose lap Mom was sitting, started kissing Mom's back and neck. His hands were caressing Mom's bare midriff. Mom started to wriggle as the man kissed and groped her. I wanted to help Mom, but I was just struggling to hold my balance. I looked around at other people, but the rest of the guys around me were looking in the other direction. I did not want to shout and make a scene, as that could draw unwanted attention to Mom.
