Freedom to Ride....!

Public buses in India are a rather entertaining affair. That is assuming you can tolerate the nauseating stench emanating from the armpits of the pudgy passenger trying to wrestle you into making more room; or the incessant yowling of the kid next to you.

A public bus is the perfect place to observe mankind in its many shades. It is the place where a person predicts that he will never see his fellow passengers again, and so he is free to display his most primal instincts. He ignores the irritated ‘tisk’s that are directed at him. He pretends not to notice the glowering looks that gradually bore a hole into the back of his head. He does what his heart wills him to. He is at his most selfish—he has no inhibitions. A public bus is where he is truly a free man of a free country!

That is why he doesn’t think twice before elbowing all the contenders to secure that recently vacated seat, originally meant for the fairer sex. Then he promptly whisks out his cell-phone and starts speaking at a decibel which should be made illegal at a public place. His neighbours are forced to dig for their earphones and retreat into their happy place—the auditory oblivion that is brought on by the familiarity of their playlists. While in another corner of the bus, a lecher tries to discreetly fondle a young, defenseless girl too frightened and astonished to speak up.

During this summer vacation in my hometown, I was fortunate enough to spot a bus which was half empty. Five minutes in the bus and I realized that I had made a mistake. The bus was excruciatingly slow. While I wasn’t in a major hurry, the same couldn’t be said for a few others. One impatient bloke tried to motivate the driver by repeatedly telling him to speed up. In response, the driver slowed down even further to turn in his throne and release a couple of innovative expletives aimed at the poor chap. This shut him up quite effectively. At the next stop, a man got on. He was spraying into his phone about some very forgettable achievement. Judging by his enthusiasm, there was a very deaf person on the receiving end. This extravagant display led to another passenger, a lady, dialing an acquaintance. Thus began the battle of the century—who can talk the loudest and the longest! Can you really blame me for my relief when I could finally escape from this lavish display of uncouth behavior?

Another recent and painfully memorable bus ride ended in thoroughly embarrassing me in front of an overloaded bus of strangers. It was the last day of vacations, and I had planned to make good on the promise I had made to my sister before the vacations started. I was taking her to Mani Square. The bus gradually filled up. By the time our stop approached we had to squeeze past passengers in order to reach the door. When we tried to get off of the bus, I realized that by bag’s zipper had somehow managed to get stuck to a neighboring passenger’s belt straps. No matter how much I pulled, it just won’t get free. Amazingly, the driver gave in to the others’ protests and drove on, with me still furiously yanking at the uncharacteristically calm gentleman’s belt! My sister, instead of helping me, dissolved into peals of laughter. Finally one stop later, the conductor decided to tear my bag free and let us off!    

Another strange incident comes to mind. Last year, in Bangalore, I was out one evening, with my friends. On the ride to one of the many malls, we came across a bizarre scene. A group of wasted boys had boarded the bus. By their mannerisms, they were clearly from the Northern States. Even though we have never had the Civil Wars, for some unfathomable reasons, the North and the South Indian states have always been sworn enemies. The boys got into some tiff with the conductor of the bus. From what I could gather, the differences between ‘North Indians’ and ‘South Indians’ were being thrown around rather rampantly. Finally the boys were asked to leave the bus. What stumped me was the event that followed. After the boys got off, a man who had absolutely nothing to do with the exchange walked to the door and spat at their retreating figures. He returned to his seat while mumbling some disgruntled remarks. We were left staring at each other trying to make sense of this.

Bus rides in Hyderabad are unique in their own way. The bus conductors, who can be very feisty at times, do not believe in returning change. They take the advice “Pay the EXACT fare” quite literally. Or maybe, they hope that the passengers are generous do-gooders on a mission involving heavy tips. The passengers have probably never been told that staring at strangers is rude. They don’t even look away when you catch them at it. So, it culminates in an uncomfortable staring contest.  

So far, my rare yet thought-provoking bus rides have taught me one thing. It is best to just sit tight and ignore the world if you want anything that can pass for a pleasant time. Otherwise, the myriad of sensations can be overwhelming!