My father had purchased a piece of land in Jiribam, when he was posted there during 1968-69. Afterwards since he opted for the
central services, he was posted to various places and ultimately he called it his day and purchased a plot with his retirement
benefits at Guwahti and settled there. So this plot of land remained unattended for a long time. When I moved in to Imphal owing to
my Job, my mom asked me to go over to Jiribam and look up the plot.
It was in the August of the year 1993, that I planned a visit to Jiribam. Since leaves were hard to come by I decided to take
two days casual leave on Friday and Saturday, so that I can come back on the Sunday. It happened that one of my friend's dad was
a retired SDO of Jiribam. So I invited my friend (Indra) along with me as he would be of some help.
Me along with Indra and a close friend of mine (Jitkishore) who also worked with me in the same organization booked
our tickets for Jiribam on the 13th. We managed to get a row of seat numbered 12, 13 and 14.
The journey to Jiribam was uneventful. Our work finished we returned on the Sunday, the 15th of August (Although it happened to be
a bandh). The journey till Barak was quite uneventful, the trouble started, one or two kilometers to Nungbah. Suddenly, there were
a loud clanking sound and the bus stopped. The axle of the bus had broken.
So the 30 odd passengers of the ill fated bus had to walk about a kilometer or so to Nungbah. Nungbah being the
stopover place, it caters to the refreshment needs of the passengers. However since the few buses, which plied that day had already
stopped over for refreshments and departed for Imphal already, all the foods in the few hotels had already been consumed. So
there we were stranded at Nungbah, and there was no way we could reach Imphal the same day, since the only vehicles and buses
that would be available, would be only the next day around noon time.
To top it all there was no food. The hoteliers were kind
enough to cook up a meal for 30 hungry passengers in a hurry.
Although, the rice was uncooked, no one complained, as by the
time the meals were finished serving, most of the passengers
were nursing a grumbling stomach.
As the evening passed and growing dusk gathered, another worry
crept up, that of finding a place to sleep, as it would be unthinkable
to pass the night in the bus. Everyone were selfish enough in
trying to find a place in the small hamlet of few houses for
themselves and their family, no one cared to give a helping hand
to three or four teenaged girls, who were traveling in a group.
It took ultimately some persuasion to dissuade the girls from
spending the night in the bus and accommodate them in our hut
with two beds and already shared by 12 or 13 of us, man, women
and children.
The night passed off with the weary souls falling off to sleep
one after another, packed like a sack of potato. Morning came
and came the desperate fight over the few toilets. Suddenly Jitkishore
shouted, 'Hey JP! Hurry up there is a bus from Mizoram and we
will not find any place unless you hurry up' clutching our airbags,
my toilet needs forgotten I dashed off for the highway and made
another desperate attempt in wresting control of the door handle
from my fellow co-passengers.
There was a bus on the highway with the bold words “GODS GIFT” emblazoned on the mast. Jitkishore
had managed to wrest a seat over the pile of gunny bags. There were no seats available. By the time Indra who was in the toilet,
finished up his task and rushed over to us, the bus was already moving. We were congratulating ourselves in being lucky, since
many of our co-passengers were unlucky or they thought wise to wait for the nest Imphal bound bus rather than tumble over the
back of the seat filled with sacks of rice, potatoes and bananas.
All the same we thanked the almighty, and reflected on the strange
coincidence, as the bus was indeed a 'God's Gift'. The uncomfort
of sitting atop the sacks of rice, potatoes and bananas was another
thing, compared to sigh of relief we heaved, on reflecting that
we were finally reaching Imphal.
The next day in the office Jitkishore and me had some explanation
to do. While relating the incident, I lamented 'what do you expect
when you have as coincidence', 'seat number 13, date 13 and day
the Friday!' (August 13th 1993 happened to be a Friday, considered
as menacing and unlucky by many). All the same, I added 'we are
here without any harm as god saved us by sending a bus from Mizoram
with the name of 'Gods Gift' on it.
J.P. Sinha, a proud Manipuri, writes for the second time to e-pao.net
You can contact him at [email protected]
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