Whom you travel with matters a lot

Saurabh Malik

THE rickety bus groaned as it climbed higher into the mountains, winding its way through clouds that clung to the hillsides like a misty veil. The journey from Chandigarh to Shoghi had only just begun. Inside, the air was damp but cool — a welcome relief from the city heat.

As the bus continued its ascent, I settled into my seat, the soothing coolness inside contrasting with the warm haze of the city. Gazing out at the cloud-covered peaks, the road ahead curled like a ribbon through the mist. Verdant trees and rocky cliffs emerged and disappeared in the fog, while droplets of rain traced delicate patterns on the glass.

The bus came to a halt near Jabli, a small stop almost hidden by the dense fog and foliage. Outside, a young couple hesitated, caught between the shelter of an old tea stall and the bus door. The youngster with a closely trimmed beard and the belle — her brown eyes bright against her rain-kissed face — exchanged glances before deciding to board.

The conductor, a man with a face etched by years of mountain weather, leaned out of the open door. For what felt like an eternity — a minute and three seconds to be precise — he coaxed them aboard with tales of the best place to stop for chai.

About an hour earlier, the same man had signalled the bus to slow down for me in Sector 26, Chandigarh, his voice cutting through the noise as he urged me to hurry. The gruff exterior had softened into something else entirely — a mix of charm and local pride as he turned tour guide.

The pretty woman found the last available seat next to me, while her partner stood nearby, holding onto a metal bar as the bus resumed its climb. The conductor’s voice dropped to a softer tone as he explained something to her, words I couldn’t quite catch over the engine hum.

As the bus weaved along the winding road, the landscape shifted with every turn. Streams cascaded down moss-covered rocks, and the smell of wet earth mingled with the scent of fresh pine. Finally, the conductor’s coarse voice reminded me to prepare for my stop.

With a final jolt, the bus came to a stop and I stepped out onto the wet road cutting through the Shoghi bazaar. Glancing inside, I saw the conductor’s courtesy resurface as he gently pushed the woman’s partner into the seat. Standing there, I realised it is neither about travelling nor arriving. It is whom you travel with that makes the journey worthwhile.