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The passengers on the buses she traveled knew her. Not by her name or the bruises she carries. Rather by her smile, the mess that she was, the introvert who never talked and just glanced. Who gets on the other side when a child comes in her notice. She would smile harder. Always in a hurry. With adventure in her eyes. She would not be found getting all tensed when the buses would stop due to overcrowded streets. Rather, would make a call and say, "I'll get a little late today ". She loved days when she would take a rickshaw, get into unknown streets not knowing any specific location but could still figure out the destination. She loved the journey rather than the destination. But then, things change. She started falling in love with the destination. Something special, some real peace came into her way. She enjoyed the journey whatsoever, but the destination consented to her real happiness. Somethings changed, some people changed. She started missing not going there again. The loved ones are now far. In some other countries/states. But the days that went by, those months, will always remain special.
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