Have you ever had a ride on a typical private bus in Kerala? If you haven’t, you are missing out on an adventure sport. It wouldn’t exactly give you the kicks of a mile-high roller-coaster, but would definitely hold up against some zig-zag skiing along the Alps sans the knee caps or helmets for that matter. These should pretty much be standard equipment on these buses, too.
Boarding a bus is where the joyride begins. As you wave your hand, way into the middle of road, the loaded bus, titling dangerously to the right comes to a steep halt, thank God. The conductor who mans the door — for the uninitiated, he is the equivalent of the sophisticated mechanically operated doors: we pride in employing manual labour —swings it open with a loud bang on the bus body and there is a crammed multitude streaming out, mostly two people at a time because we just cannot wait.
Rule No 1 of public bus ride: wait for the passengers to alight before you get on, looking on eagerly as you would at a shrine, the only rule we adhere to with god-fearing dedication. As we swarm at the door, our hands are already holding on to the railings and we are strategising on how to get in first and grab the only seat left. Once you finally manage to get in, you probably end up standing, as somebody raced you to the seat from the back door!
Now, standing in a bus is a sport in itself. For a person of below average height, holding on to the sky-high bars above is near-impossible and you are at the mercy of the seat scaffolding if your hands can reach it through mob.
As the cattle carriage (think Shashi Tharoor) snakes through the winding roads and the numerous bike-riders, swivelling past in a zoom, or the slow driver who refuses to let any vehicle pass, or the delightfully annoying autorickshaws which require no signal or care in the world to enter the main road from bylanes, just like that.
And there you are standing, holding on to dear life, as the acceleration sends you into an animated back pull, while the sudden brake has you flying onto the person right in front, which has a domino effect till we smash on to the front handrail ultimately. It takes a bit of practice and unnatural balancing skills to hold on through the ride while digging into your handbag for change, since the conductor refuses to take no change for an answer.
I think Metro is not doing too well here because we are too cool to let go of the rush that comes of these rides. The Metro is too balanced and steady, and tickets are taken before you board it, which takes the exhilaration and adventure out of the ride.
It’s not all that bad; if you are a regular in a bus passionately named ‘Sonya’ or ‘Srambickal’ or ‘Ave Maria’, there is the small talk with the conductor, there are familiar faces joining in from each stop and it almost feels like family!
From the perspective of the traveller, if you don't get a seat at the beginning, you are always on the lookout for a person ready to alight, constantly running algorithms in the head as to how you can scurry past to the vacant seat before the other person realises it has been cleared. The slightest movement of the bag or the person should be enough to trigger this fight or flight reaction. Then there are, of course, the schoolchildren with bag appendages almost their own size trying to squeeze into a safe spot. Backpacks are tools to nudge through the crowd and make way with comfort.
But I enjoy the courtesy of the conductor and people in general to offer seats to the invalid, or the lady with the baby. We go, ‘oh, god, another, lady with a baby’ (we all do in our heads!) but we do find it in our hearts to smile as we spare the seat.
If you happen to find a seat at the front, next to the driver, you might be able to catch a live chase on the highway as our driver would blare and tailgate the driving school car, the poor chap trying to keep the car steady for the least, in this mayhem that is breathing down his neck.
I can remember bus rides when the rush was too much but more passengers would be packed in at every stop, thus everywhere was a place to sit or perch, more appropriately. The engine bonnet next to the driver used to a popular spot too, till ‘safety’ guidelines came into place!
Wicked tactics to keeps school kids off buses, too. As they paid discounted fares and peak hours saw only a bunch of uniforms, not a pretty sight to the bus staff. The tricky drivers would either not stop, or if they have to, stop a mile away from the stop and you have to walk all the way back. And getting out of rush-hour buses, the struggle is real.
This is a scenario everyone can relate to, Bus or Metro, how you have to rise from your seat at the stop before that of yours, and push and wade through people, bags and luggage through the crowded darkness towards the heaven’s door of light, just in time for the bus to reach your destination. That’s good planning, right there!
Through all this there are monologues in my head. Where did she get hold of that stunning bag? How do the nuns sitting across keep their smocks so spotless white through the whole day?
And then we alight and walk into the boring everyday chores. It might be hard, very erratic and tiring too, but I guess finding a bit of fun and frolic in every bit of the day is what makes it complete.
