Missing the bus

When a short bus ride feels like nostalgic homecoming after years and ends with a promise.

September 02, 2015 05:18 pm | Updated March 28, 2016 02:58 pm IST - MADURAI:

Illustration: S. Belmann

Illustration: S. Belmann

Many of us have got so used to the comfort of zipping around in our two-and four-wheelers that it is almost like writing an epitaph for the city bus. So when an opportunity fell on me to go on a bus ride after years, the delight was palpable.

After waiting at the bus-stop, the joy of sighting a bus that will take you home is often left undefined. The emotion is understated too. So when I waited at the Simmakkal bus stop the other day after giving my scooter for servicing and deciding on-the-spot to try a bus back home instead of an autorickshaw, the exercise brought back memories of yesteryears. The waiting time had me in the company of an elderly woman, probably in her seventies. I watched her intently. The wrinkles on her face talked about her tiring work as a vendor even at that age. But beyond the wrinkles, there was this divine smile and the confidence of standing on her legs and being independent.

The bus arrived after 15-odd minutes. It did not have many passengers and I occupied one of the twin seaters. The old woman also followed me into the same bus and was happy to find a seat for herself.

The conductor came asking for tickets soon. I was impressed that in this part of Tamil Nadu they still continue to be kind enough moving along the seats issuing tickets. Something that is not seen in metro city buses where the conductor remains transfixed to his seat and passengers have to walk up to him or pass on the money through the hands of other commuters and the ticket comes back the same way.

With some apprehension, I gave the conductor a ten rupee coin wondering whether he will have the balance. But he did instantly return me four rupees and the ticket. The moment I held the ticket in my hand, it took me back by decades. When in the Seventies and the Eighties, the public transport was my only affordable mode of travel in Chennai. And I suddenly felt some things never change as I watched the old lady again pulling out her manjalpai and carefully counting the coins to be given to the conductor.

This ticket I held in my hand gave me a sense of ownership on the bus I was travelling in. At that moment, the piece of paper appeared to me more precious than my driving licence. I began to enjoy the ride even more. The gentle bump of the bus on speed breakers, the cautious brakes applied on the traffic-ridden roads, the whistles blown by the conductor to bring the bus to a halt and ensure safe alighting or boarding of commuters or to signal the driver to blip the throttle. As the bus started filling up, his continuous reminders to the travellers to stay away from the footboard of the bus for their safety, the noise and din from all around sounded like music to the ears. I was lost in a new world. Strangely, I could relax watching the real India move on the roads. The honks of various vehicles, people shouting, the sound of revving engines in that rush hour did not matter any more. I was at peace watching the world go by as the bus rolled on.

When it was my turn to alight, believe you me, I did so with a heavy heart. I realised how much of this experience I have missed in the years gone by. From the bus stand that afternoon as I walked back home, I made a promise to myself – that from now on I will take a bus ride at least once a month and relive many of my cherished memories. And, the next time it is going to be on a longer route!

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