By Chandani Kirinde
It had been quite a while since I last travelled by bus. Having mastered the art of driving nearly a decade ago, I had altogether given up the idea of boarding a bus again. On the occasions when my four wheels were not available, I would hop into a three wheeler rather than take a bus - the sight of people spilling out of them made me never want to get near one.
But all that changed recently. I crashed my car onto a roadside railing leaving the vehicle with enough damages to require a month in the garage. Once in, with several new ailments being diagnosed by the mechanic, the stay inevitably got extended to nearly two months and I was forced to revert to my long abandoned mode of transport - the bus.
I realized how out of touch I had been when I told some of my rather amused colleagues that I would buy a two rupee ticket to Borella and then take another bus home. They informed me that two rupee tickets did not exist any more; the lowest fare being three rupees.
The tip did help save me some embarrassment but the experience of bus travel was surprisingly a rather interesting one. It also made me consider the good and bad sides of the two modes of transport - public and private.
For a start, using the bus meant I had to walk to the bus stop, which was about ten minutes on foot. That was a bit of a hassle for lazy me considering I had got used to getting into the driver's seat from the garage itself. But the walk did make me feel good and made me notice quite a few things down the road that I usually whizzed past. I also got the chance to make small talk with some of the people I pass by daily during the walk to the bus stand.
Well, the pleasure of the walk somewhat vanished once it was time to board the bus. There was usually a stampede when a bus arrived with mainly the males bulldozing themselves onto the bus pushing the weaker ones to a side. Once inside, it was another gruelling experience with passengers stepping on your toes and the conductors screaming for everyone to move forward when there was hardly any room for one to stand on even one foot.
Finding a handle to hold onto to when the bus is flying at a terrific speed was another problem, especially when you are not tall enough to reach the top handle in the big buses. But the bigger buses were a boon compared to the smaller ones. Standing crouched for long distances meant a double dose of aspirin for me in the evenings to relieve myself of back and shoulder pains.
But once I managed to edge myself into a comfortable place to stand in or was lucky enough to get a seat especially a window one, it made me never want to drive again. Here I was paying a few rupees and having myself driven to my destination with my feet having a rest from alternating between the brake and clutch and a little acceleration as it happens at most times in heavy traffic.
Also other drivers weren't glaring at me for going too slow and annoying me by blaring their horns. Moreover, I wasn't losing my nerve and wanting to strangle the errant drivers I meet everyday, especially the private bus and three wheelers drivers who think they have exclusive rights to public roads. I am no perfect driver myself but on a scale of 1 - 10, I'd give myself at least a 7. On the same scale, I'd give 90 per cent of other drivers minus points.
The disturbances one faces in bus travel are somewhat different. Like for example, the introduction of radios in buses means that when you pay for your ticket, you are also paying for very loud music. Whether you are in a mood to listen or not is not important. Then there are the ones providing live entertainment; the street musicians who board buses singing one of their masterpieces, usually a lament about their empty stomachs and collecting a few rupees from the passengers. That bother I realized, could be avoided if you pretended you couldn't reach into your handbag while clinging on for dear life to avoid falling over when the driver suddenly braked.
There are also the other interesting little things that happen. Once a Buddhist priest was occupying the seat reserved for members of the clergy and of course, no woman could sit next to him as is customary, even though quite a few woman were standing near the seat. A few miles down a road, a foreign lady got in and hastily sat next to the priest, much to the displeasure of some of the passengers who were soon seen whispering among themselves. Of course no one said anything and the lady got off a few stops later, quite unaware of the little episode she had created.
These were the little things I would notice and smile to myself about and keep registered in my mind-the luxury which I wouldn't have while driving myself. A few times I did drift off into my dream world for a few minutes while waiting for the traffic lights to change, only to be rudely brought down to the real world by the angrily blaring sound of horns from the drivers behind me.
Although getting off the bus itself is quite another adventure, once out of it, I could coolly walk away without having to drive around in circles looking for a place to park the vehicle - a problem I encountered quite frequently. Of course my clothes could do with another round of ironing and my hair would need some brushing but bus travel did give me a sense of freedom which I had lost during those years of driving.
I got the chance to look down on those travelling in the smaller, much fancier vehicles feeling little envy for them - although while driving my old car, I'd keep wishing I was behind the wheel of one of those luxury vehicles that overtook me at every turn.
So instead of looking up at the bus passengers from my car as I normally do, especially the ones hanging from the footboard and feeling guilty that I was having a more comfortable ride, I was there among them and it felt good. Now I have my car back and I am behind the wheel once again but I look forward to making a few bus trips. And this time I won't wait till the car is in the garage.
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