The story for پنجی نمبر دی سیر (Ride on Number 25), came from a ride on a bus, coming back from near Bhatti Gate, by Data Darbar in Lahore, Pakistan. The bus is an interesting place to see how the majority of people live. Out from the luxuries of chauffeur driven cars or even rickshaws, crammed in with the sweat of daily work, shuttling through a web of traffic. I have met many people, who share a moment of indignation, or a word of humility that knocks me to my senses as I slip into this life that I have the privilege of slipping out of at will.
I’ve met people, apologetic at being crammed up to close to you, or grateful for the favor of a little understanding and a willingness to make room where there is none. It’s not a comfortable ride on the bus. The jolts knock your bones, and the people are battered and weary, but within it, I have seen all kinds of people. One night, I was riding back, and a bundled up man was shoved in the door. I sat across from him. He was a mess, of pain and suffering. It was hard to tell if he was even just barely alive. Unlike the story, I didn’t think the people around me were callous or unkind as they looked away, but I could not. Not because I was more caring, but that this was not my every day existence. I sat transfixed in that moment between a desire to do something, guilt and just plain not knowing what to do.
I thought of his life, as the bus moved on, and then stepped off when it was time to leave, letting the thought go and my easing my conscience by telling myself that there was nothing I could do.
Enjoy sketches and layouts from the comic above. You can also view videos of each page being drawing by going to the page and watching the making of video.