Laila is waiting at the counter for the bus. Finally, she has mastered the courage to go on a solo trip. No, she is not going to any fancy place. She is not going for a vacation on the beach or in a tea garden. She is about to ride on the bus to a village, a place where her grandmas sister lives.
Lailas phone starts ringing. It is her mom.
- Laila, are you sure you want to go all alone?
- Oh Mom, please do not start it all over again. I have told you thousands of times that I can manage myself.
- But, baby...
- I will call you later, Mom.
Laila hangs up the call. These days, she does not feel like talking to anybody. Something is always wrong with her. She does not feel like doing anything. All the books she managed to ship from London to Dhaka were lying down in one corner of her room. She did not even bother to open the box to check the condition of the books. Her notebook, filled with half-done writings, did not even bother to finish the poems. Every single moment of the day, she only feels the urge to cry. She wants to cry her heart out. As if crying can solve all the problems she is going through.
Am I going through any problem? Laila asks herself. And there is nothing particular that comes to her mind. Laila is done with her academic life. She has a job that she has always dreamt about. She is doing better than before. But there is something that is bothering her all the time. Sometimes she is angry, sometimes she is way too emotional, sometimes she is happy without any reason. All the time, she is deeply thinking about something, her mind is fighting against something she does not even know.
- Maam, are you waiting for the bus to Dinajpur?
Someone asks Laila.
- Yes, I am.
Laila answers.
- The bus is about to leave, maam. Please, get on the bus.
Laila drags her bag to the bus. She takes her seat by the side of the window. The bus starts. She calls her mother and informs her about it as the journey starts.
Soon the bus leaves the jam-packed roads of Dhaka. The fresh air of the countryside hits her face, the wind blowing through her untidy hair. She takes a deep breath. She feels a bit at ease after a long time.
Laila looks inside the bus. So many people are heading to the same place! Lailas eyes catch a grumpy managed around 45, wearing a blue shirt and black trousers. He has a malicious expression on his face.
The man is talking to the man next to him. Laila, without any reason, follows the conversation. They are talking about an intern at their office who is not good at work.
- How can someone be so dumb? He needs help to get a single instruction. I have to repeat almost everything twice to him-such a disgrace at the office.
- Not eligible for a professional place, not at all.
Laila shivers with panic as the man finishes his sentence. Ever since she was a little child, she has always suffered from communication issues. It is not like that she cannot speak or listen clearly. Laila is someone who cannot understand things easily. And most of the people cannot understand what she is trying to say. It always takes some extra time to understand the things others can understand in the blink of an eye. And Laila knows that she was having the same problem at her workplace.
Not only at the workplace, there are hardly any people around her who understand her in the way she wants to be understood. Tears drop from her eyes as she starts thinking about everything she is going through.
The bus driver suddenly pulls the brake and the bus stops. The bus helper screams at the top of his voice, saying, "Everyone please get off the bus. The bus has caught a fire."
Laila watches everyone getting off the bus. But she does not move. The smoke fills the air around her. Her phone rings. She picks up the call and says, "Mom, I am on the bus."
