Bus journeys to remember
Every semester in Pilani began with an energy-sapping 36-hour train journey for us from Chennai to Delhi. I would get down at the Delhi train station hungry and thirsty, and wanting nothing more than to curl up in my bed with a cup of hot coffee and a good book. Ofcourse, knowing that the most taxing and nerve-jangling part of the journey is just ahead of you does little to cheer you up. We would grab a bite, take an auto to the Delhi bus stand and hope to find a bus to Loharu (which was a short jeep ride away from Pilani) with enough room to accomodate us and our luggages. We would wait there with bated breaths while the conductor searched inside for a few empty seats. Ofcourse, there would be no space for the luggages, and these would be tossed on the roof of the bus. This was one of the few moments in life I became religious, and would utter a silent prayer hoping this would ensure that my suitcase completed the journey with me.
If you thought public buses in India were dirty and in bad shape, you ain't seen nothin' yet! The buses plying along the rural parts of North India were works of art. The outside and most of the inside will be covered with red stains from all the paan spits, the seats were so tightly packed you would have to be lesser than five feet tall or thereabouts to ensure continuous blood circulation thoughout the journey, and then there were the co-passengers! These were mostly farmers and local villagers from Rajasthan. To say that they could use a good bath or three would be an understatement. Apart from the smell, you would have to put up with the beedi smoke that they would keep puffing on your face. The miserable pace of the bus and the prospects of a 5-hour journey packed inside this mass of humanity without an inch to move is enough to make anyone claustrophobic and suffer a nervous breakdown. But we were veterans after the first few trips, and found new and innovative ways of keeping ourselves occupied through the journey.
Every bus ride was a thrill, since you didn't know if you were going to get off alive. Once, about 25% of the floor of the bus was open and we could literally see the underside. The fumes were sucked in though the hole and we were covered with soot by the time we were ready to get off. Quite often, you'll encounter a villager with a load of firewood and a couple of goats get on the bus. I've always wondered if the conductor issues tickets for the goats as well, and what the SPCA would have to say about the miserable traveling conditions that these creatures had to put up with. The music would be classic Rajasthani stuff with lots of wind instruments that should be avoided, and voices similar to those of Ila Arun or Usha Uthup with a sore throat. Suffice it to say, any attempts at a siesta was bound to meet a futile and rather jarring end. And when the bus really got crowded, you will have to pretend not to notice when someone leans on you or, as it has happened to me, sits on your shoulder with their rear ends too close to your face for comfort.
I remember one such journey where a few of us decided to get adventurous and got down at Jhunjunu (yes, that's a real town! I can give you more such funny names if you want...) and decided to treat ourselves to a ride on a mini-van for the rest of the journey. We found one, got in and promptly went to sleep. After what seemed like eternity, I woke up and realized that it was way past midnight, the van was not moving and, more significantly, the driver and other passengers (except us BITSians) were gone. I got off to find a gang of local men (including the driver and his sidekick) in their huge turbans squatting around a fire, smoking beedis. Even more surprising was that one of my friends was doing the exact same thing and bargaining with them in Hindi. Turns out they did not find enough passengers to make their trip (and the associated gas expense) worthwhile, so they just decided to stop. This bit of logic was very difficult for me to comprehend, used I was to buses taking me all the way to my stop even if I were the only passenger on board. So I squatted down, borrowed a beedi and joined the haggling party. Another friend woke up after a while, lost his cool when he realized that he was stranded in the middle of nowhere and all his Hindi-speaking friends were gone, was even more shaken when he saw the bunch of locals around the fire and blurted out "Mera admi kahan hai?". That was probably one of the funniest things I've ever heard in my life. Should have added that to my Hindi bloopers post!
Well, a long story short, we always managed to reach our destination. There are a lot of things that I remember and recall with fondness about my days in BITS. The Delhi to Pilani bus journeys always seem to figure somewhere in the top ten. I cannot explain why that is. Was it the beautiful scenery along the way, with miles of golden corn fields and neatly plowed land? Was it because nothing brought us closer to rural India and its inhabitants than those 5 hours? Or was it the excitement (?!) of starting another semester and getting screwed all over again at our good old BITS? It could be all of those and a million other reasons. Years later, whenever I'm on a flight that runs into rough weather and passengers around me scream and throw a fit, I'm usually sitting there calmly reading a book. After those thrill-a-minute bus rides, nothing can come close to rattling me.
If you thought public buses in India were dirty and in bad shape, you ain't seen nothin' yet! The buses plying along the rural parts of North India were works of art. The outside and most of the inside will be covered with red stains from all the paan spits, the seats were so tightly packed you would have to be lesser than five feet tall or thereabouts to ensure continuous blood circulation thoughout the journey, and then there were the co-passengers! These were mostly farmers and local villagers from Rajasthan. To say that they could use a good bath or three would be an understatement. Apart from the smell, you would have to put up with the beedi smoke that they would keep puffing on your face. The miserable pace of the bus and the prospects of a 5-hour journey packed inside this mass of humanity without an inch to move is enough to make anyone claustrophobic and suffer a nervous breakdown. But we were veterans after the first few trips, and found new and innovative ways of keeping ourselves occupied through the journey.
Every bus ride was a thrill, since you didn't know if you were going to get off alive. Once, about 25% of the floor of the bus was open and we could literally see the underside. The fumes were sucked in though the hole and we were covered with soot by the time we were ready to get off. Quite often, you'll encounter a villager with a load of firewood and a couple of goats get on the bus. I've always wondered if the conductor issues tickets for the goats as well, and what the SPCA would have to say about the miserable traveling conditions that these creatures had to put up with. The music would be classic Rajasthani stuff with lots of wind instruments that should be avoided, and voices similar to those of Ila Arun or Usha Uthup with a sore throat. Suffice it to say, any attempts at a siesta was bound to meet a futile and rather jarring end. And when the bus really got crowded, you will have to pretend not to notice when someone leans on you or, as it has happened to me, sits on your shoulder with their rear ends too close to your face for comfort.
I remember one such journey where a few of us decided to get adventurous and got down at Jhunjunu (yes, that's a real town! I can give you more such funny names if you want...) and decided to treat ourselves to a ride on a mini-van for the rest of the journey. We found one, got in and promptly went to sleep. After what seemed like eternity, I woke up and realized that it was way past midnight, the van was not moving and, more significantly, the driver and other passengers (except us BITSians) were gone. I got off to find a gang of local men (including the driver and his sidekick) in their huge turbans squatting around a fire, smoking beedis. Even more surprising was that one of my friends was doing the exact same thing and bargaining with them in Hindi. Turns out they did not find enough passengers to make their trip (and the associated gas expense) worthwhile, so they just decided to stop. This bit of logic was very difficult for me to comprehend, used I was to buses taking me all the way to my stop even if I were the only passenger on board. So I squatted down, borrowed a beedi and joined the haggling party. Another friend woke up after a while, lost his cool when he realized that he was stranded in the middle of nowhere and all his Hindi-speaking friends were gone, was even more shaken when he saw the bunch of locals around the fire and blurted out "Mera admi kahan hai?". That was probably one of the funniest things I've ever heard in my life. Should have added that to my Hindi bloopers post!
Well, a long story short, we always managed to reach our destination. There are a lot of things that I remember and recall with fondness about my days in BITS. The Delhi to Pilani bus journeys always seem to figure somewhere in the top ten. I cannot explain why that is. Was it the beautiful scenery along the way, with miles of golden corn fields and neatly plowed land? Was it because nothing brought us closer to rural India and its inhabitants than those 5 hours? Or was it the excitement (?!) of starting another semester and getting screwed all over again at our good old BITS? It could be all of those and a million other reasons. Years later, whenever I'm on a flight that runs into rough weather and passengers around me scream and throw a fit, I'm usually sitting there calmly reading a book. After those thrill-a-minute bus rides, nothing can come close to rattling me.
posted by c2c at Tuesday, March 21, 2006
2 Comments:
Never heard these stories from you before!! Guess you saved it for the blog. Isn't "Mera admi kahan hai?" the right way to ask about your friends? ;)
Good one dude!
"mera admi kahan hai"....did paapa ask this question??....
one of my colleagues at work is from a small village in Haryana....and he usedto boast about the quality of the buses there....now i can get a rough picture of the same!!
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