Standing beneath a huge banyan tree, I waited at a bus stop in the evening at the Andhra village where I was working. Exhausted by the day’s busy work, I longed to reach my home at an early hour before sundown. But to my utter dismay, my bus did not arrive. Left with no option, I stood there, watching the scenario on the road and imbibed the hustle and bustle. Then to my amazement, he emerged from nowhere. He paced calmly in the middle of the busy road, not caring for the shoppers and unafraid of the vehicles plying fast.
His body was huge and sturdy. With a height so impressive, he looked dignified. Ambling on the road, he posed like a prince. While people scurried to the rim the moment they heard the honking of the vehicles, he stood there unperturbed and undaunted. Now seated comfortably in the middle of the road, he sat there—Mr Adamant—not heeding the ceaseless honking of vehicles and the hullabaloo of folks, but shaking his huge head rather aggressively. An auto-rickshaw came zooming so close to Mr Adamant and halted abruptly before him, honking continually to no avail. The driver, annoyed and indignant, got off the vehicle and screamed, “How stupid is he? He is in the middle of the busy road obstructing the traffic.”
Undisturbed and heedless, he blinked his eyes, gazing fiercely at the driver and shook his head violently. “Oh God, he is very wild and adamant,” the auto driver cried, then jumped into his vehicle and drove off. A fruit vendor threw a couple of bananas at Mr Adamant and in no time, he lapped them up with relish. But he continued to sit on the road. Even the traffic cop who came whistling and wielding his baton vigorously failed to drive him away. It was a unique scene where Mr Adamant was ruling the road with people just helpless spectators.
Then she came, walking so gracefully. Her body was pretty, her eyes so shiny and beautiful. She beheld Mr Adamant seated on the road, but she moved on quietly, not caring for him who was commanding all on the road. Miss Grace was hardly scared of him. Chewing something, she passed him by. All of a sudden, to my utter surprise, Mr Adamant stood up and began walking slowly behind her, abandoning his obduracy. No vehicle scared him off the road. “But this gentle cow exercised her feminine grace on the adamant bull,” said a shopkeeper. That’s the power of feminine grace, the wonderful magic of romance, I mused and smiled to myself. After a long wait, my bus arrived.
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