Bundi.

I arrived in Bundi, the sun setting, everything washed in golden light. Every time the bus came to a halt I would ask people if we had arrived in Bundi; one person would say yes and then another would say no. We eventually did though and I was glad that it had happened before night fall.

As the bus pulled to a halt I got up from my seat walked to the front of bus and was told by one of the stewards that he would get my luggage from the drivers sleeping compartment while I signaled for a rickshaw. Thinking nothing of it I got off the bus and started looking for a rickshaw. It was not hard, but as the rickshaw pulled up next to me, my bus drove past me, racing towards the distance, my luggage still in the drivers sleeping compartment.

Frantically I told the rickshaw driver what happened and then we were off. Chasing the bus, zig zagging past slow tractors and cows eating grass on the street. It was surreal. A scene from a movie. I lit a cigarette. We finally caught up with the bus, signaled for it to pull over and it eventually did.

I got my luggage from the sleeping compartment and as I got off the bus, (relieved and pissed off and tired), I told the steward how unappreciative I was at him for having told the driver to take off. He stared at my blankly/nonchalantly and then got back onto the bus and telling the driver to take off again. I watched as it disappeared into the distance.