Chennai Bus Stand.
This wasn’t just a random late-night scene; this exact place functions with these same faces and raw realities 24 hours a day, non-stop.
I parked my bike on its side stand and sat down on a wooden bench at a tea shop. The helmet under my feet and the heavy travel bag strapped to the back of my bike made it clear—I was leaving Chennai for good, returning to my hometown on a job transfer. At 29, while there was a sense of relief about moving to the next stage of my life, a heavy burden of guilt weighed down my heart.
As usual, I lit a cigarette. As the smoke slowly dissolved into the cool night air, my eyes began to wander across the bus stand.
A woman wearing a burqa sat nearby. Asking nothing from anyone, her eyes stared blankly into the bright bus stand lights with an unspoken, deep-seated longing. Right under the bench I was sitting on, an old woman lay curled up on the cold cement floor, fast asleep.
Watching them triggered a sudden rush of memories. The face responsible for the overwhelming guilt inside me flashed vividly before my eyes.
I had met her while working in marketing here in Chennai—a woman around 40 years old. During a vulnerable, lonely phase, we ended up sleeping together.
Sitting on that bus stand bench at 29, those memories stabbed at my conscience. Seeing these people pushed to the edges of society and left all alone, it struck me that she, too, was merely trapped in that same void of loneliness. But what pained my heart even more was my own cowardice: leaving the city permanently tonight without even having the decency to tell her a single word, just starting my bike and riding away.
Society looks at these bus stand dwellers from a distance, labeling them as beggars, drunkards, or sex workers. But looking at them closely in the dead of night, I realized something beautiful—though cast aside by society, they had formed a tight-knit family of their own within this bus stand. Compared to their isolation, the self-serving loneliness I chose for myself felt like a much bigger mistake.
With a heavy heart, I kicked my bike to life and crossed the Chennai border. But out on the deserted highway in the middle of the night, the engine suddenly sputtered and died. The tank was completely dry—I had run out of petrol.
Pitch darkness all around. No signal on my phone. I was stranded alone at a point in the middle of nowhere between Chennai and my hometown.
As time ticked away, my desperation grew. I waved my hands at passing vehicles for help, but not a single one stopped. People just glanced at me like I was some weird object on the road and sped away.
Standing on that dark roadside holding my bike, a realization dawned on me. Right now, I was no different from those people at the bus stand—abandoned by society with no one to lean on. The darkness taught me a brutal truth: no matter how big or successful you think you are in this world, it only takes a single second to turn you into an absolute orphan.
At that exact moment, my parents' faces came to mind. Standing in that vulnerable spot, I realized what a blessing it was to have parents who loved me and a home waiting for my return. I had just seen so many people at the fringes of society starving for a drop of affection. Compared to them, God had blessed me with a wonderful life. What more could a person ask for?
Holding onto past mistakes and failing to live the good life in front of us is the biggest stupidity of all. As that hit me, the heavy burden of guilt pressing on my chest slowly started to melt away, leaving me feeling lighter.
Just then, a local share auto chugged along slowly from a distance. "Hop in, brother! There’s a petrol bunk up ahead, let’s go get some fuel," the driver offered warmly.
By the time I returned to my bike with a can of petrol, the old version of me had died.
I poured the petrol into the tank and kicked the engine to life.
As I shifted into gear and accelerated toward my hometown, there was no heaviness left in my heart—only a newfound clarity about my parents' love and a deep sense of gratitude for the life God had given me.
The End.